Standing Naked

Standing naked
With every flaw exposed
The belief is strong, the courage shown
The power of the heart
A mighty force
It guides us to a place so vulnerable
And makes us believe we are more

Standing naked
Never thinking that it’s wrong
It has to be the only way, the true path
A clear message of truth
Taking full audit
And allowing the examination so thorough
We show our true willingness to be loved

Standing naked
With a purpose unimagined
You tell the past to unleash your soul
You have found your true place
Presenting for judgment
It becomes a act of love, an exposing of a heart
And you know, deep inside, it is your one true gift

Standing naked
You feel the answer before you see it
It is hidden in what appeared to be uncertainty
When in the end it never really mattered
The message clear
The time for wonder has past, and the magic is gone
This display unwanted, blocked by the sight of an unclothed other

Sitting clothed
Time to bring it all back home
Foolishness has been the guide, a heart has been torn
And you know, it’s for the last time
Putting it all away
The experiment of life has been completed
All research gained, the conclusion has been published

Sitting clothed
We find ourselves again
Back to the place that kept us, back to home
Keeping all out, turning off the flow of emotion
Unwanted remnants become our armor
Like badges of courage for battles never fought
Meaningless really, never to be remembered

Curled up, retreated
Letting life run past
No more allowing possibility, no more hoping on love
The flaws will be hidden, true emotions put away
What once appeared mighty, now searches for a cave
To cover up the shame, like the first two in the garden
Hoping someday they stop looking, forget you had the courage to stand

The final words.

There will be nothing left to say when this is done. I have said all I had to say. And falling short has become a very long journey. One of denial. One of delaying the understanding of what was always to come. In a moment on uncertainty, I allowed the thought that my words could make a difference. Change things. I was wrong. They have only put on the record, for all to see, that I have been unable to face the truth.

When faced with a conclusion that was never really believed, I decided to fight back with the only weapon I have…my words. Some have laughed. Some have called me a fool. Hell, I have thought it on occasion. They are shocked and confused that I show it all with words. That I allow anyone to read them. Well, maybe they are right. Maybe I have done myself a disservice by allowing everyone who cares to, see inside my head…inside my heart. But, the reasons are not the ones that you may think. It’s not that I feel so important that I believe that what I have to say can be a particle of change. It’s not that I feel that I do this better than anyone else. Not even close. And it’s not because I don’t care what people think I do, more than I care to admit. It was for understanding. Not just mine, but those that may see this.

I have spent a good part of my life believing that no one saw what I saw. That no one felt what I felt. That I had some sort of corner on emotional understanding. I have to tell you, that I am truly clueless. I don’t know the right things to say. I don’t know the right things to do. I am locked inside by a fear that I have allowed to grip me since deciding that living closed down wasn’t working for me. I had to open up. I had to show who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. Mostly because I have never really been sure that it would be seen well by anyone. I have never been told one way or the other. When brief glimpses of what is really going on inside me have been shown in the past, for the most part, they have been returned to me with scorn, ridicule, and a deep desire to put me back in the box that made those around me comfortable.

There have been a small handful of people, prior to all this writing, that have seen inside. My friend, Mike, is one of them. He knows me better than anyone on the planet. And he loves me. Loves me like a brother…like a true friend. And he tells me things. He tells me what he sees, what he hears, what he feels from me. He has always been there for me. He has told me when I was wrong before I could bare to understand the possibility. Two times he told me what a mistake I was making. And both times, with foresight not hindsight, he was shown to be right. He is the greatest friend anyone can have. And I am going to miss him when the Lord decides that it’s time to end his pain and take him home, but he will live in my heart…with his love, concern, hope, and caring…for the rest of my days. I really wish you could know him. I really wish you could see what makes him so special to me. Everyone should know someone like this. Someone who makes you believe in humanity. Believe in friendship as the unwavering gift that it can be when you see past what it gives you and you realize what you can give to it.

I spent a lot of years hiding myself, even from Mike. I just couldn’t bare for anyone to see what I really was becoming. I was bitter, angry, tired, depressed, and completely unable to find joy in anything. There are a lot of reasons for that. But, mostly, I am too blame. I stepped in life’s potholes and then was shocked to find myself muddy, bruised, and completely unable to understand why. I locked myself in a cave and stayed there, content with the knowledge that by staying so sheltered within my own head, no one could ever hurt me again. There is a flaw to that plan. That by hiding away, you become invisible. You become nothing. I had become nothing.

Being nothing becomes comfortable. Like an old pair of sweats, they wrap us up in comfort and we just lay around in them, because of that. Being nothing means no expectations. Which means no disappointments and no pleasures. It means never having to say your sorry, because you never do anything to put yourself in a position to have to do it. It means pulling away from all those that care about you, because they have lost sight of you anyway. Doesn’t seem to be a point to it all, until you realize that the true person that you is missed by those that care. But, the invisibility becomes your friend. It becomes a way of avoiding life all together.

I stepped out of that cave recently. I have those who have encouraged me to show me the way. Your kind words have made this the very best time of my life. People have asked my why I decided to do this, to write from my gut and share it all. Well, to be honest, I haven’t shared it all. There are things I just can’t say. I don’t know that I will ever be able to tell anyone else. They are painful. Some have been buried so long, that I am not sure I can ever reach down inside myself enough to share them with anyone. But, they are written and saved in the electronic box. I think I will just leave those here and when I am gone, someone can find them…and maybe they will understand a little more.

For those of you who have said how foolish I have been, you have that right. I will not try to insult you by damning your opinion. It may be that you just don’t understand the power of words. It may be that you just can’t understand the nature of the gift I find in them. Or maybe, the truth is, you just can’t understand me. And that is …well, understandable. Hell, I don’t understand me. But, in me saying that…doesn’t make you understand more? Sort of a catch 22. To be understood, we have to do the misunderstood…take the risk…open up…and show that, in the end, we are all very much the same. All I have ever tried to do with this is shine a light on the places we are all very afraid to look have…admit…share. I have, up to this point, done most of it without fear, believing that the honest nature of the words would win over the doubters. That by sharing, I would find a way to show everyone that we can be ourselves and not fear rejection. My only real expectation was that of understanding. For the realization that, although from different paths, we all have our insecurities and our feelings of being different. And it’s those understandings that make us all the same. And from that realization, we grow. I know that I have grown.

Maybe I am wrong in all of this. Maybe it is foolish to believe that words can change anything. I have struggle with this lately, finding it very hard to write at all. And, I believe that I have seen that difficulty as a sign that it may be time to stop this. When you know in your heart you have so much more to say, but can’t seem to say it…it’s time to put down the pen and paper. Maybe it’s time to stop broadcasting all this. Maybe it’s just time to shut the hell up.

So, for now…to all those who see this and laugh…I say it may be time to stop. Time to just let things be. Because, sometimes words, like love, just isn’t enough. Maybe it’s time to step back a bit into the cave and keep my head down. Because, when you realize that no one is going to wake up tomorrow morning and realize that anything was lost, it starts to lose it’s meaning. When no one is going to even realize that they can’t see you anymore, the cave becomes a safe haven from the rejection.

So, for now…it’s time to do just that. For more reasons than I can count…for more reasons than I can share…I think I need to stop this public display of my thoughts. Because, in the end, it was never for the compliments. It was never for the kind thoughts. It was simply for the understanding. For the realization that I am real. That I have tried to show how similar we are by being different. But, sometimes…even with the best of intentions…the very thing we are trying to do gets lost in the judgment. And the laughter is hard to withstand. Shame is very hard to get over. And rejection…in any form…is a pain worse than any other.

So, I think I will go quietly…to the next step. And try very hard to find another way out of this cave. Until then, the quiet part of my nature has to take over. And that is all I have. I sure hope someday, it’s enough.

A Beautiful Noise

It washes over me
A tide of sound that resonates
It seems so soothing and so loud
Does anyone hear it?
Does anyone feel it?
Or is it only for me?
A beautiful noise

Simply put, it amazes me
This purpose driven calling of a heart
A song of hope and of understanding
A meeting of minds and souls
Do I show it?
Can you sense it?
A beautiful noise

It wakes me from sleep
Fills my mind, first and last
Measured against all, it overwhelms
Could it be more real?
Does it make you think?
A beautiful noise

I hear it constantly
The low roar of a distant drum
The power of emotion pulling through
Is it only for me?
Am I alone in a concert of one?
A beautiful noise

The rhythm fills with harmony
Friendship pulls it all together
It covers the holes thought to be ever present
Does she see the change?
Does she sense the truth?
A beautiful noise

Tomorrow waits with wonder
The expectations are none
But, possibility seems infinite
Do I dare to dream this dream?
Will this personnel soundtrack continue?
A beautiful noise.

Music carries a desire
To be as beautiful as what I hear
Amazing movements of sound that tells all
Will I be not afraid?
Can I handle all this sound?
A beautiful noise

Michael

For the second time in less than a year, I am faced with losing a friend to cancer. To call him just a friend is an injustice. We have been through hell and back together more than a couple of times. Both there for each other when we each decided to put down the bottle and other things. Both spending hours practicing the greatest passion that we shared. Hours spent in his basement trying to perfect a sound that would make us stand out from the crowd. We are brothers. I love this man with all my heart. And to say that it will hurt to have him leave us is another understatement.

We have known each other for over twenty years. We met at a gathering of paralegals at a symposium on techniques of legal research. He wasn’t as in love with the law as I was. He looked at it as a way to pay the bills until he signed a contract with some record company or another. We had known each other’s names through the music grapevine, but had never met until that day. He told me he was looking for another job, because the firm he was with was looking to cutback on staffing. I told him I could put a word in for him. He was hired two weeks later. We spent very few days without seeing each other for the next 12 years.

We are the typical odd couple. He, not at home in a suit and tie, always seemed rumpled and out of place. I, on the other hand, was known to be a bit of a clothes horse…a closet full of suits, tailor made shirts, and silk ties. But, there was this shared passion for music that made us tight very early on. Once we started playing together, things just became complete.

He dated the same woman for over ten years. Married her. They have a daughter that just turned two this past May. She is the spitting image of her daddy. Red hair and beautiful green eyes. I have seen her twice. Both times, she melted my heart with a smile that she got from her mother and the eyes of her daddy. I failed at marriage twice. I have no children. I think that fact hurts him just as much as it does me. He is the first person who ever really saw the good part of me. He has told me for years that I am a better person then my life was prepared for. He says that circumstances have torn holes in me, but have failed to take away the true spirit that breaths in my soul. I never understood that until recently. I have started to find that part of me and I have him and one other person to thank for that. They both have seen something that I have stared for years in a mirror trying to find. And because of them, I will continue to search for him and bring him out for as long as I walk this Earth.

At the end of my drinking career, he helped me walk a better life path, while his was still rocky. He told me daily how proud he was of me to have the strength to walk away. He wanted that strength. Just couldn’t find it until his marriage. Since that day, he has led an amazing life. And becoming a father only brightened the gold that surrounds his heart. He is a man with more care in him than anyone I have ever known. A gentleness that has comforted so many of us that have been lucky enough to call him a friend.

Talking to him today and finding out the true nature of his reasoning for me to come to him for some music and a visit, I was struck by something that rocked me more than the news of the timetable the doctors have put his life on. With all that he has on his plate, his concern today was for me. He apologized for holding on for over a year that he was sick. He didn’t want me to worry about something that I have no control over. He knows I have that as a terrible habit. He only told me today because of a discussion that we had over the weekend and the news that he received today that he will return to the hospital this Friday for a treatment that will possibly give him a little more time. His concern through most of the day was for me. For my life. And for what had been happening to it for months.

He said he could hear the change in my voice. That since early in the year, he knew that I was holding on to something that was very important to me. He said that he would hang up the phone after talking to me and sit to cry over the fact that he sensed his friend was really going to be okay, after months of worrying that I would not be. He feared for my sobriety. He feared that I had given up hope. He feared that I had decided that my life was coming to a close and that I had decided that there was no sense in trying to search for anything that made me happy. And for those things, he also cried.

What he told me today was that he realized that his friend was coming back. That I was returning to the person I was when he knew me best. When I was happy. And to be able to come to that without alcohol or music in my life anymore made it even more special to him. He knows me. He knows that for most of my life those two things were a big part of the center of me. One in a bad way, the other in a very good way. He told me that he sensed something in me had changed, but wasn’t sure what it was. He only knew that he was glad for whatever it was.

When I finally told him what it was that was effecting me, he was all questions. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to hear every detail and was a little disappointed that at the time, there really wasn’t any. What had me coming out of the cave I had been living in for so long was a dream. Just a thought of a possibility. That’s all. But, he told me back then…in March or April…that if I held on, sometimes dreams do come true.

I spoke to him this past weekend. I told him that it appeared that the dream was now over. That the things I thought I saw were not going to materialize. That I had gone as far out as I could and that I had just missed my target. I told him that I had never committed to anything in my life as I had for this dream. But, as with prayers that appear unanswered, sometimes it’s just that for all our effort…the answer is no. He cried on the phone. He told me that day that he was sorry to hear it, but that he hoped that it wouldn’t change what I was becoming…or returning to. That I had to keep walking the path I was on, with my head up, and the belief that I could make a difference. I quickly and without real commitment, told him I agreed.

Today he told me the truth about his situation. He told me that he was okay. He had no regrets. He said, initially, that he only wanted one thing from me. For me to come to Philly and do it one more time. Create some magic just one more time. It’s been a very long time since I have tried to do that. But, he has some things that he has written that he wants to put down so that his daughter can hear what made her daddy smile almost as much as she does. He has created these things for her. And he wants to make sure that she gets them someday, after he is gone. I told him that I would be honored. Time and place was all I needed.

Later in the day, he called me again. He said he had one more thing. He told me that it would not be easy, but it was important to him. He said that he had spent the better part of the afternoon thinking about this…about my situation…about my dream. The fact that faced with what he is faced with and him spending some of his last hours thinking about me tells you exactly what kind of man this is. He told me that no matter what, I wasn’t to lose sight of this dream. He asked me if the dream made me happy. I told him that it did. He asked me if there was anything on this planet that meant as much to me as the object of my dream. I told him there wasn’t. He asked me if I thought that I would ever see the likes of this dream again. I told him I did not. He was silent for a good minute. Both of us just sitting there, hours apart, with phones to our ears. And then he said, “Don’t give up!” I told him that he didn’t understand. That insurmountable circumstances had all but put this dream to bed. He said he didn’t care about all that and that I shouldn’t either. He said that he waited to long to hear the voice he hears now…a voice that reminds him of a man he used to know so well. A voice that disappeared and became someone that he still loved like a brother, but felt he didn’t know anymore. He said he didn’t know for a very long time what it was that had started to bring his friend back, but he was grateful for it. He said that he prayed to God that whatever it was, that it would continue to do it’s good work. I told him that I thought that would be the case, no matter the circumstances. He asked me how I knew that. I told him, it was because for all the people I knew, this person reminded me of him. The heart. The caring. The unselfish nature of feelings. And that, no matter the obstacle, I knew that there was a general compassion here that was responsible for a lot of what was happening to me.

We ended our talking today with text messages while I was sitting at a workstation preparing for my overnight fun at work. He told me that giving up on this dream is the only thing that would disappoint him more than me not coming to see him. I told him that I couldn’t promise anything. That for the good of all involved, I had to consider letting go. He told me that I was wrong. I wasn’t looking at the good of all. I was looking for the easy way out. To not have to fight for what I wanted was taking the cheap way out. He said the one thing he knew about me was that I wasn’t a coward. That I wasn’t afraid to face my fears or the tough parts of life. He said that it was important to him to know that I was happy. He said he knew that the next six months or so would be tough on me. That worrying about things I can’t control thing again. But, that he knew it would be a whole lot easier if I continued to chase what made me so damn happy.

In less than forty-eight hours, my very good friend will enter a hospital for unbearable treatment. There is a chance this may do more harm than good. He could lose a lot. Memories. Thoughts. Even feelings and parts of the personality that makes him one of the very best human beings I have ever met. But, on this day, he reached out his hand to encourage me. To comfort me. To push me.

And because of that, I know that after all these years…through many hells and back, the greatest gift I have in life was on the phone with me today. And I know that long after he is gone, his words will continue to echo in my heart. And for that, I am blessed beyond words.

Rest easy, Mike. We who love you will do what you ask. Because we know….just because we know.

The Power of Words and The Gift of Actions

One of the greatest lessons we can learn is the power of our words. We sometimes take for granted just how much strength lies there. More powerful than any weapon man can devise, it falls to us to give them the respect they deserve.

I have been in love with words my whole life. I spend so much time wrapping my head around the minimal ability I have in putting them together so that they make sense. I strive to say something that means something. I find, most times, that I fall short of my aim. I just can’t seem to get the string to lay out as straight as I need it to so that the desired effect is achieved. It’s frustrating. I know when I sit down to do this, what it is I want to say, but the result is always less than I intended.

On this day, for instance, my ability is falling short. I know what I want to say, what I must say…I just can’t seem to do it. But, I will try.

I woke in the deep dark of early morning. I got very little sleep. There are many reasons for this. My heart was racing over things I thought I saw. My vision was clouded by my desire to make the moments mean more than they really did. I dressed for the day with an excitement that I cannot say I have ever matched before. The reasons are mine. And there they will stay. I can only say that it was as real to me as this screen is to me now. I could see it so clearly. The tide had turned and the waves had started crashing into me and the feeling was incredible.

Another reason for all of what was happening and going to happen to me today, was the fact that just a couple days ago, the papers that signal my freedom arrived after a very long wait. This could be seen by some as something to mourn. The ending of a union is never pleasant. But, after years of ugliness, after a year of being made to feel less than, the key to the rest of my life arrived in an envelope. It signals a change that is coming for me. Freedom from fear of losing what I have gained since I was told I was no longer needed. The gains that I had made here could be made safe from the hands of another who has sworn to come after all I have. I have taken great pains to protect myself. I have lived without as not to have anything of value that can be taken from me by a court who may ignore the effort that this rebuilding has taken and just draw a line on what belongs to whom and how much.

When you add to this that I had a plan for the day. I was aware of something. A celebration was occurring today. It really had nothing to do with me. I had no obligation. But, I felt the need. I felt the want to do something to contribute to what was happening today. And, in doing so, I found a better part of myself. I found a place of self worth and the ability, with one simple act, to make a difference on a day. Don’t get me wrong, the day was special without me touching it. But, taking a moment to make a moment seemed to be my calling today. I stepped out of myself enough, took the chance to make a difference. And I have to tell you, the feeling was heart stopping. And the power of words struck me, struck me hard with two syllables.

“Thank you.”

The only thing that I can imagine that comes close to the power of words that I speak of, is the power to make another person smile. Especially when it’s a smile they never saw coming. Especially when it’s a smile they never suspected would be generated by the likes of me. I can only say that I was blessed to be in that moment, to see that smile, and to feel as if, for one day, for one moment, in one life…I made a difference. Not trying to sound self-important. On the contrary, as I have said the day would have been special without me and my gesture. But, to do something that makes it seem a little more bright, a little more golden, well…it’s humbling.

Later on, a woman came to me concerning the purchase of a printer. The item was actually for someone who was accompanying her. The second woman was obviously challenged. I was given a handwritten note with information concerning a specific printer and it’s specs were written out in a shaky hand, but more informed than any tech sheet on a web page than I have ever seen. The model number was there. The first woman explained that the young lady wanted “that printer. That model.” It was a number that we have crossed referenced with at least three other printers of the same line. The numbers are close, but not exact. We, who do what we do, are aware that this happens…products can be practically the same…differences hard to detect, but the item or model numbers are different.

“Numbers are important to her.”

I understood what the first woman was saying immediately. Although the cross reference would look, perform, and by all accounts be the same, it would always be different to the purchaser if the model numbers didn’t match her piece of paper. I remembered that the printer in question was one that was in our seasonal area, being display with our “Back to School” products. I told them to follow me and lets see if we could find what they were looking for. At first glance at the four foot section of display, I only saw the crossed referenced models, their model numbers only being different with the last two digits. I knew that wouldn’t do. She wasn’t going to buy it if it didn’t match her researched notes. Notes she obviously had taken great pains to put together, her buying decision made long before she entered my department.

I pushed aside a few of the front facing printers and on the second shelf, just behind the faced unit, was the model she was searching for. It was the only one. And it was hidden there like it was only waiting for her to come and pick it up. I pulled the box out and with excitement said: “Here, I found you one. Look, the right number and everything.”

The smile that lit up that face stunned me into silence. The first woman, obviously a caretaker of some kind, couldn’t thank me enough. I find it hard sometimes to take that kind of gratitude for doing what I am being paid to do. But, in this moment, I knew that in their eyes, I had stepped out a little further on this one. Although it wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for any other customer, get them what they want, I could tell that I had done something that they would talk about for awhile.

In a matter of a couple of hours, I had found a way to make a difference in the lives of two separate people. I did nothing particularly remarkable, just followed my gut in one instance and did my job in another, but sometimes it’s those simple things…those moments when we just do what we know is right, that change days, weeks, months…or even lives for people. Again, not getting full of myself. Both of these situations could have happened to anyone today, I was just the lucky one to be there to catch the chance.

And again, those two words came in to play.

“Thank you.”

I spent the rest of my day just floating through it. Getting a lot done. Trying to mend a fence that had taken a bit of a beating recently. Making sure my group had what they needed before I left for the day. Which was something I was finding very hard to do. Leave for the day. The day had been so good. I knew that by leaving that building, the day would be heading towards it’s end and I just wasn’t ready for that yet. I wasn’t done swimming in it.

I walked around the last hour or so just thinking about all that had occurred in front of me. I know this all may seem kind of minimal to some. All I can say, is that you weren’t there. And you are not me. What I mean by that is today was the feeding of an understanding into who I am. What makes me who I am right now. Not who I was a year ago, or a month ago, or even yesterday. Just who I am today. Who I am trying very hard everyday to be. I fall short, as all of us do. But, on this day, I was feeling as if I had done my best to hit my target place.

I walked home from work without music in my ears for the first time. I didn’t want any distraction to my journey. I was lost in my own thoughts. About the gesture. About the printer. And about what had set me off on such a good path this morning. And I needed no music. The music was already in my head. Life’s own soundtrack was playing and I needed no earbuds for that.

The house was empty and quiet moments after I got home. I got myself some food and sat down to watch some television. I posted something on my wall that let everyone know just what I was feeling at the moment. With very little sleep over the last week, the lack of energy had caught up with me and I fell asleep in the middle of my dinner, sitting up on the couch, laptop at my side. This will not surprise my friend, Nick, who has seen this happen many times before.

I woke up a little confused about whether the time on the cable box in front of me was morning or night. Took me a good thirty seconds to recognize the time of day. I had been asleep, sitting up, sandwich on my lap for almost three hours.

When I stopped drinking, the one thing the doctor said was most important in my ability to stay sober is to avoid the “Too…” problem. Never get too hungry, too tired, too happy, too sad, too focused, too lazy, too energetic, too open, too closed off“…the list goes on. What happens in the moments of “too”s is that our minds can play tricks on us. For someone that may be having a struggle with recovery, the “too”s can bring a sense of healing that never really occurs. We lose perspective on our lives, our situations, and basic things in our life. I had fallen into the “too”s. I actually think that I have been buried in them for a few days. And with that comes the possibility of making a huge mistake. Of seeing things that weren’t really there. Avoiding the truth for the simple feeling of joy.

The truth of all was represented to me not long after I awoke. I can’t say that I was shocked. I can’t say that I was surprised in the least. Avoiding the truth doesn’t mean you don’t know it. It just means that for a little while, you chose to look away from it. And for that, no one is to blame but me. I fell into the “too”s. I should have known better.

There are certain times when words, with all their power, can move mountains. They can do the impossible. They can make the unfeeling feel something. They can make the blind see. The deaf hear. And they can make the lonely seem not so alone. What they can not do is change the truth. I tried to make them change the truth. In doing so, I have discovered, that in the world of words, I am not the biggest gun on the shelf. My words do not hold the power I thought they might. Sharing ideas, thoughts, or moments with others can make someone think. That is power. It can make them feel. Again, power. But, it cannot change the sun into the moon. It cannot change the stream into an ocean. And it cannot bring what we want most to us just because we say we want it, because we say we see it, because we say anything at all.

The lesson I have learned today is that we must find our definition in more than one place. If we assume one part of us makes us all of who we are we are not seeing our full picture. And when we fail to see all of ourselves, we can fall prey to the disappointment of that one thing erasing all the other things we have done that may not be so in focus.

My power in this line is limited. Times like this one, I feel completely unarmed. And at this moment, the power escapes me.

For that, I have no excuses. I have no apologies. And I am seeing, that in my day’s actions, that I have no regrets. Disappointment only comes from the result of an attempt. The only protection from that is to fail to try. I will never stop trying. Disappointment may continue. But, even that is better than having no power at all.

Bringing on Sleep

It’s in the night when it calls.
The sun is gone, the visions come
I hear her voice, I see her face
I strain to hear, I cry to touch
This thought won’t escape
This dream won’t die
If she only knew


It takes my breath
It moves my heart
This moment passes slowly
It stabs me like a dart
It buries all my fears, puts them all away
If she only knew

Falling stars where wishes live
Isn’t the way to this soul
It would be cheating, to take that path
She needs to want this place
To come on her own
If she only knew

Having nothing left to give
I wait like a child in December
I stare at the dark, waiting for her light
I have seen it so clearly, so true, so real
I wish to be the best for her
If she only knew

I wonder if she realizes
The desire my heart can possess
Dying to show it’s face
It’s power so inclined
To be only for her to see
If she only knew

I have no delusions
I make no false claims
I only tell my half of the story
It’s all I ever gave
A promise of this moment
If she only knew

I close my eyes to bring on sleep
There is no fear, there is no shame
I sleep with dreams alive
An angel brings this peace
A blessing for this fool
If she only knew

The Well Worn Place (For You)

(This is obviously a story born of a childhood interuptation of a young man's reading of a story and how it effected him...me. The final message that the boy finds are words that came to me today. For them I am blessed. And I give all the credit to the one who inspires me. IYOK)


Applying the shaving cream, rubbing into this well worn face, I saw the spark without really looking for it. This little speck of light coming from my eyes. As the remnants of the graying beard spun down the drain, I thought of where I may have seen that in myself before. I was thinking I had. It seemed to be a memory so buried. I tried my trick of pulling the memory from my heart, but I couldn’t locate it. It seemed to be blocked.

Getting dressed, the feeling that I needed to remember wouldn’t escape me. I decided to sit in the corner of my room, lights down, and just let this kernel of thought drill it’s way into my brain for what it was that I was missing. After a few moments of solitude, the images were coming. I saw a path. Not a physical path. One in my mind. A place of safety, a place of thought, and a place of courage to believe.

And then it struck me. Could it be? No! There just wasn’t a way. It was gone. I know it was. I had been there and saw that it had gone the way of so many things in my life. To a place out of reach. To the outer reaches of my imagination. There just was no way.

I paced the room in deep concentration. I was so out of practice. It had been so long since the trip had been made. I wasn’t sure I knew the way anymore. What if I got lost? What if I dared to venture there again only to find that my hope had been for nothing. That it was still a place I could not go to anymore. It was the place of hiding for me as a child. The safe place created from the reading of a story that showed me a way to escape my pain. A place where all thoughts were turned into possibilities. A place where the concept of impossible did not exist as long as you allowed yourself to believe in what your mind could see.

I remember the beauty of seeing it for the first time. I am not sure the age I was at the time. I only know that I had read the story and thought, if it were possible, I would surely love to go there. Reality had stolen my heart. Real life had taken my childhood from me and ripped huge parts of trust from my soul. I had lost faith in those that should have loved me more than anything, because that was what I felt for them. Their idea that the selfish pursuit of their own happiness was more important than the hearts and emotional well being of their children had taken more from all of us than I could begin to understand at such a young age. I wanted peace. I wanted a place where I always felt welcomed. And I found it in my creation of the idea stolen from a children’s story.

I would go there often. When things were too loud. When things were too ugly to see. I went there. In my mind’s eye, I traveled that path to the one place where I felt secure. Happy. Alive. And it saved me. It kept me whole. It kept the child inside of me alive and loved. It gave me back a feeling of being an innocent in a desperate sea of those swimming in guilty pleasures with no thought for others. And, I loved it there.

I am not sure why it happened. I am not sure what caused it. But, I do remember the day that I sat down in the middle of my room and couldn’t find the place. I remember mentally walking the path, through the field of flowers…colors of nature all around me. Up over the bridge that ran over and provide safe passage over a creek that fed the growth around. The water tossing below creating a smell like no other. It could fill your nostrils, clean the mind and the senses. Preparing me for the place I would spend so much time being just what I was. A child.

But, on that day, as I crossed the top of the hill, I realized no shadow had fallen on me. Nothing to block the low hanging sun that warmed my heart while I would sit and conjure up my fantasies. A cloud blocked the sun. As if the very heavens I had created in my mind were to afraid to look at what I was about to see.

It was gone.

I went to the spot. I could see the worn place in the grass where my backside had rubbed away the growth. My safe haven was gone. On the ground in it’s place, a small note, written in a shaky hand that looked so much like my own:

“Time to put away those childish things.”

My father’s words. In my hand. A reciting of what I had been taught outside of my safe haven. He was trying to teach me. He wanted me to face my life and understand that only open eyes can deal with what the world will present each of us. To be lost in it was not an option. To be aware was to be prepared. And being aware did not live in your fantasies. It did not live in my writings. It only lived in the places that he could understand.

I remember, that morning, preparing for school and seeing in the mirror. Something was missing.

I saw it again today. I saw the sparkle. And my searching of my soul showed me what had brought it to me so long ago. Was it telling me something? Am I supposed to try again? Search that field?
Cross that bridge to wonders and climb the hill?

I sat long, eyes open and thought about all the outcomes. Thought of the disappointment of finding nothing. But, the thought occurred to me that without the effort, the risk…nothing comes to us. So, I closed my eyes. And I traveled once again. A child’s adventure, in the heart of a man.

I came around the corner of the outer fence, the paint was chipping, but it was still there. I walked the path my mind had provided again. Although it had been so many years, I easily found my way. I came to the expanse of flowers, all new blooms as if they sprang from the ground only to welcome me home. It was if, like searching for the warming sun, they turned to me and opened their blooms. The wondrous perfume filling my nostrils, my head spinning, my imagination turning full force.

I came to the bridge. The creek below, current weaker, showed amazing signs of rebuilding what my absence had destroyed. Feeding the nature, feeding the hill, feeding my soul. Like wine from the table of the final meal, it spilled out and re-energized what had long been in limbo. And I felt a sense of self that I can’t describe.

I cautiously started up the hill. Not looking up. Afraid that I would find out too soon that this trip would only prove to me that it was all done. That it was gone for good. The more I had ventured in, the less I could believe that I would handle that ending well.

Halfway up, a shadow fell on me. I sensed the cloud again. Is it possible? The heavens, the stars, the very sun that my imagination had created still could not face a loss? Tears began to well. Throat stuck closed as I started to raise my head. To look. To see.

Shadows of leaves patterned my shirt. Ghosts of branches stretched around me on the ground.

My heart rose.

As did my eyes.

To explain the vision in words would be impossible. There standing before me was the one thing in my life, as a child, that I always counted on. Never to abandon me. Never to leave me without it’s safety. Never to deny me the place of imagination. Of wonder. Of hope.

The Dreaming Tree.

I slowly crested the hill and walked up to the trunk. I touched the bark as if to see that my mental image was real. My creation was solid and reborn. I stood in amazement and looked up into it’s branches, reaching high and outwards, like a giant hug from the Creator Himself. I had found my place.
I stood there for a long moment. Soaking in all that this meant. But, trying to figure out, why…why now had it returned to me. I saw my place, the worn place on the ground a half turn around the tree. And I started for it. As I arrived at the spot. And looked up.

There, carved into the bark of this miracle tree was the words that brought it all home for me. That made me realize just what had brought this blessing back to me. Just what I had done in my life to allow my heart and mind to open up again…to remember…to allow myself the childish things stole from me so very long ago.

“The Dreaming Tree lives.

Not for her, but because of her”

And finally, all in my life…for the very first time…made sense.

Just stuff

(My Apologies for any errors that may be here when I am done. Freestyling on about8 hours of sleep in two days. But, mind is full...just need to say something, I guess)

It has been a pretty amazing couple of overnight days for me. Okay, setting mods and doing clearance markdowns in toys are not exactly life changing events. But, those things that have come with them have been learning experiences, attitude changing, and lessons of what is important to me.

It all started with trying to see past myself on any given day. I work very hard at doing as many unselfish acts a day as possible. I don't actually count them, but I do take notice when I do them...especially without thinking about them first. The natural ones..the ones that just seem to come with little effort and cause me to pause at the power of creating ripples in our daily lives. I have been blessed recently to have many ripples come my way. Not all have been as pleasant as others. I admit that some just flat out confuse the hell out of me...cause me to stop and try to figure out what place my footing is riding on. But,even those moments...as mindbending as they may seem to be, always make me pause...smile...and remember that I am alive, aware, and able to feel. And there is never anything wrong with that.

I upset a very good friend in the last couple of days. It was not something that I did intentionally and I sure as heck didn't mean for it to happen. If I could go back and change the actions that I performed to make it all go away, I would. The thing that I wish that I could explain is that I am sorry that I took something so important to this person and made a mockery of it because I was trying to teach a third person a lesson in passing the buck on responsibility. I was part of a decision that would not have been made if the responsibility had not fallen to me. But, because it did...I treated it with a lighter fair than I should have and in so doing, I hurt the feelings of my friend. I hope she will forgive me. Because, it was the very last thing I ever wanted to do.

I think I may have also done something similar to another person. I am not so sure about this one. Again, it is something that I feel terrible about and I wish I could change it. I wish that I would have been more aware of the possibility of doing something so callus. I would never do anything to hurt this person...and I hope she knows that. Sometimes I don't think before I act. I don't see the specialness of something and I can spoil it without even trying. I beg forgiveness.

Something quite unsuspected happened to me last night while working. A moment passed, and a jolt was passed between two. It was a simple thing. Probably something you would laugh at, if you knew what it was and that I was making it so important. It lasted the briefest of seconds, in the moment, but has carried on to this very one and probably beyond...at least for me. I can't explain it much better than that except to say that I won't soon forget it or the feeling of breaking away from the safety of being careful. A moment. The briefest of time periods, can take our breath away. And for that, if only for that...we continue to believe in the unbelieveable, no matter just how far away it may be.

I have spent some time going back and rereading some of what I have posted here on this blog. To the unaware or unknowing eye, it may seem as if I am trying to project a small "victim" ideology of my life. I assure you that if that is what is projected, I have not led that kind of life. I have two...count them..two failed marriages. Although the actions of the other may have brought the endings in both situations, understand that my actions leading up to those moments were never very good. I have made mistakes. Many. And not the, Oppps, an accident kind of mistakes either. But, straight up, "How can I hurt this person today?" kind of mistakes. I am trying very hard to learn from those mistakes as to never repeat them. I don't want to be that selfish again. I never want to be that cold again. I have only just started to realize who I am. Who I could be. My taking a risk and exposing a part of me that I have held in check for a very long time is partially responsible. The friendships that I have made here in Shippensburg have also done a lot to help me, too. I just know that I am tired of fighting windmills with anger. I am tired of feeling I have to prove to the world I am worthy. What I am finding is that by just being who I am, who I want to be...my worthiness grows in the eyes of others. And for that I am blessed. For that I am lucky to have learned it before I left this life. Some are not so lucky. I feel for them. Because, being on this side of the looking glass is so much better than being outside looking in.

Also, over the course of the last two days I have gotten to know someone a little better. I am kind of surprised by just how much this person has taught me about appreciating what we have in our lives and how the ability to stop and show what even a virtual stranger can feel for us can make a person smile. The biggest lesson I have relearned in this set of moments is just how much we share in the appreciation of these kinds of acts. I have been lucky enough to have a lot of people provide me with them lately. I have stated before, I have an amazing (oh, that word) ability to find the best of them and call them my friends. And they never fail, everyday, to remind me, with their acts, just how damn lucky I am to know them. And, I think that what I have also learned, is that providing those moments back to those we care about is very important, but also much easier than doing it for someone we don't know as well. Giving of ourselves, in the simplest of ways, can be difficult at times. We fear trust issues...fear that we will be seen in a bad light for just taking a moment to show a little heart. What I am discovering in recent weeks, is that for all of those moments when our fears may be justified, there are dozens of opportunities that prove that we are doing the right thing. Call it a spiritual thing, a human thing, or just a natural act of someone trying to repay his debt to the selfish life he has led for so long...it has shown itself to me to be as deeply felt on the receiving end as it is by the giver. Attention. Just noticing that another person lives...and just may need someone to step up or step with them is a powerful thing. It changes lives...attitudes...and makes the world a better place, if only for a moment.

If we can see each day as our platform to create ripples in this world, we would be taking full advantage of our our capabilities to make a difference in this life. Water and sand are two of my favorite subjects for analogy. I find them fasinating to say the very least. Especially when the are used together. Allow me a moment for example:

The digging out of a mountain causes dirt to fill the skys. Clouds of dust clog air condtioners, fans, and even the breathing system for cars, causing them to choke. The wind blows this dark cloud hundreds of miles, under rain clouds that do their job by washing the sky of all the things we send into it with our technology based society. The dirt and dust return to the Earth in our rivers, streams, and oceans mixing with the water to become silt which gathers near the bottom and is rolled around by the waves, current, stages of the moon, movements of the Earth it self, and wind direction. Eventually, it can roll in on a wave at high tide, ony to be left on the beach at low tide to dry in the afternoon sun becoming sand. The sand, almost as light as air itself, is blown around the beach landing in various spots. It has the chance of becoming the tower of a child's sand castle the next day. From destruction to a child's delight. Ripples. Reactions to actions that change everything and make things whole.

These ripples, which can start by a simple hello, can travel over oceans and land mass to cause a change in a moment somewhere far away. These changes may be things we will never know that our actions had a hand in. Maybe it's best that we don't know, being the ego based beings we are, we would want to claim credit where little is due. But, the initial action that causes the ripple is on us. We are responsible for the type of ripple and the strength. The thought that overwhelms me is the possibility for a hundred, a thousand, or ten's of thousands of ripples to arrive in the same spot at the same time. If all sent with the best of intentions, the difference that could make to the world we live in. I just hope I can be in that spot. If only for a moment. What a moment that would be.

I am thankful for all that I have learned. Even the manner in the way I have learned them, the scars visible if you look. But, I didn't enjoy what occurred for me to learn these lessons. But, going through them has made me who I am...as your have made you who you are. We are the sum of the lessons we have learned. And it's those lessons that help me to see the miracles that I have before me everyday. And for that...because of that...I am a better man.

Hidden Treasures

It seemed that Justin and Marko had been friends forever. Marko the quiet one, good in school and seemingly a very good boy. Unless he was hanging with Justin. Justin didn’t have to look for trouble, it just found him naturally. And he was a born leader. He could convince Marko that anything he wanted to do made sense. So, this odd couple became close friends, practically never seen apart.

It was a hot August day and the boys were bored. They were walking the old back roads just south of town when over the rise, they spotted an old man walking towards a small field. He seemed to be very focused on his direction and didn’t seem to notice the boys at all. Just for something to do, the boys followed him.

The old man walked to the edge of field where a giant weeping willow tree stood. He walked around it in circles, looking off into the horizon on all sides as if he was scanning to see if he had been seen. He must have circled a half dozen times before he sat down at the base of the tree.

“What do you think that was about?”; asked Justin.

“I saw something like that in a movie once. Military guys,…you know…Army guys. They scan the horizon looking for movement that they can’t see if they look directly at something. They move their eyes across the horizon to try and pick up a image of someone that may be following them…like a sniper.”

Justin sat there for a minute and watched the old man. He just sat there. As if he were waiting for a train or something. Justin looked at his friend again with that smile that told Marko that there was trouble coming.

“Lets go rob him.”

“Of what? He is just sitting by the tree. He’s an old man, what could he possibly have that we want?’

“Sometimes you don’t know until you take it from them. Surprises come from all places, dude. What, are you a chicken?”

Marko hated when his friend would get like this. He knew he was being manipulated, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from getting angry and finally agreeing to anything Justin suggested in moments like this. But, something was different this time. He sensed it. This would be a very bad thing. He had to convince Justin that it wasn’t worth the effort. He had to show him that it wasn’t worth the risk. Something about that man and that tree told the good part that was still inside of him that this would be a terrible mistake.

And then the old man sealed his fate.

The boys watched as the man stood and paced off a half a dozen steps away from the trunk of the tree. He knelt down and began pushing at the dirt with his hands. He was digging. He pulled at the ground and wiped away branches and leaves. Finally stopping, he reached into the small hole and pulled out something wrapped in a large canvas cover. He wiped away the dirt and twigs from the cover and slowly opened it.

“Lets get out of here, dude. Seriously, this is wrong. We shouldn’t be here.”; Marko pleaded.

Justin couldn’t take his eyes off the old man. What was so important that he had to bury it to hide it? He had to know.

“Listen, you are going to sit there and shut the hell up. He is going to hear us if you keep this up. Now just relax and watch him. Hey, what the hell is he looking at?”

Marko looked down to see the old man sitting back in his spot at the base of the tree. He had the package on his lap and was staring, again, out at the horizon. From this distance it was hard to tell, but there seemed to be a smile across his face. A soft look had come over him, as if he had been kissed by an angel. He seemed to be staring at nothing and at everything at the same time.

Finally, the old man looked back down into his lap. He removed the canvas cover and exposed a wooden box, about the size of a loaf of bread. The boys couldn’t tell from where they were perched, but it appeared to be very old. They could see where the stain had faded on the wood in areas that had been rubbed over and over again by hands clutching the box. They had never seen anything like it. The old man stared at the top of the box without moving for a very long time.

“Dude, really…we need to go. Lets leave this old man and his stupid box. What could be so valuable that he would bury it in a field, under a tree?” ; said Marko.

“I don’t know, but I am going to find out.”

“No, man. Leave this alone. This feels wrong.”

The old man lifted the latch and raised the lid on the box. He pulled things from the box and one at a time he looked at them and then back to the horizon. It was if he was searching the heavens for something…a vision. Something. And then, just before he would move to the next item, he would clinch his right hand in front of his chest ever so lightly tap his chest above his heart, lowering his head at the same time for just a moment.

“What the hell is he doing? What does he have in there? Dude, I got to know. We have to find out.”

Marko looked at his friend with disgust. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew that his friend was taking him down a horrible path. Something that was going to change his life. They had robbed people before. The drunks at night on their way home that would barely remember that they were mugged, much less who had done it. Old ladies for the hand bags on the street, the boy’s feet being faster than anyone who thought of trying to catch them. But, this…something told Marko that this wasn’t going to be a bag snatch. There was something strange going on here. And it shouldn’t be disturbed.

“Justin, look…lets just go. We will go back into town and wait for the someone to leave a window open or something. We could get something more valuable than what could possibly be in that box. Lets just get out of here, man. The dude is giving me the creeps.”

“Shut the hell up, you chicken shit. We are going to get that box. Mark my words.”

“But, why? What the hell could you possibly think you are going to find?”

Justin wasn’t listening anymore. He was just watching. Watching the old man gently remove items from the box. Treating each thing like it was precious. He got to a few items that he just looked at and then raised to his lips and kissed as he stared back to the horizon.

After about an hour, the man quickly put the things back in the box. After placing everything carefully back in it’s place, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled something from it. He looked through each thing, gently kissed it, and put them in the box. New items being added.

Justin about jumped from his skin.

“Did you see that, man? He is putting more treasure in there. It’s got to be jewels or money or something really cool. Do you see him kissing it? He’s so greedy that he kisses his money? He deserves to get ripped off. We have to see where he is getting this from. “

“What do you mean? I thought you just wanted the box? We just wait until he puts it back in the ground and leaves it and then we go and take it and get out of here.”

“No, man….we are going to follow him. We are going to find out where all this stuff is coming from. And when he isn’t looking, take it all. Man, the box is small. He could have a hundred boxes laid out around here. We have to follow him.”

The old man rewrapped the box in it’s canvas cocoon and paced off the steps back to the hole. He carefully placed the box back where it came from, covered it with earth, twigs, and leaves. Rising, he stood again to face the horizon and his lips moved. No sound made it to the boys perch.

“Dude, he is crazy. He’s friggin’ talking to himself. This is going to be so easy.”

Marko had his doubts.

The old man retraced his steps from the willow tree back to the road and started heading back from where he came. The boys followed at a safe distance and kept quiet. No more stops were made. No more trees to visit. No more holes to dig. The old man just slowly walked up a path leading to a tree line off the side of the road and entered a small clearing. There, hidden from view from the world on the road, was a small house…no more than two rooms total. It was well kept, pride was shown in this little abode. The yard was filled with late summer blooms and the grass trimmed and neat.

The boys made there way up to the house, to a window to peer in and get a look. The sun was going down behind them and they could just see as a lamp came on inside. The old man sat in his chair. There was a small couch, a table with one chair. A stove and refrigerator. They could just see into the doorway of what appeared to be a bedroom. No paintings. No television. No radio. In front of the chair was a stand, like a music stand, with a huge book upon it. The old man put on his reading glasses and pulled the stand closer to his chair and began to read.

The boys lowered themselves from the window and sat on the ground.

“Justin, what do you want to do? The man doesn’t have anything we want. You can see that, can’t you?”

“Dude, it’s what I don’t see that I want. He is burying things under that tree that he is bringing from here. Don’t you think he would hide it here, too? We just have to look. Here’s what we are going to do. We are going to spend the next couple of days following him. We will see what other buried treasures he has out there. And when we discover them all, we will wait for him to leave one morning, ransack the house and then take each treasure from each tree. We will get it all?”

“All what, man? All what?”

“That’s what we are going to find out.”

They did as they said. The followed the old man for four straight days. Always keeping out of sight. Staying out of his field of vision. But, he never varied. Always back to the same tree. His steps always the same. Always staring at the horizon. There wasn’t always new things to add, but always with the fist to the chest. For the life of them they couldn’t figure that out. Looked like he was pounding away indigestion or something. But, it didn’t appear he hit himself with any more force than a tap. And always the kissing of some of the treasures.

With each passing day of no new developments, Justin became angrier and angrier. His frustration fueled his intent. And he mumbled to himself what he planned. How he would get that box. And he would get what the old man was hiding in the house, too.

On the fifth day, they set their plan in motion. As always, the old man left the house just after lunch. They watched as he want down the path in front of his house and out to the road. Only this time, they didn’t follow him. They went to the back door and found it unlocked. They entered the house through the kitchen and found it just as sparse as their initial view through the window had suggested. Simple utensils, no expensive silver that they could pawn. They started tearing through cupboards and drawers looking for anything that had some value. They kept telling themselves that it had to be there.

They entered the living room and found it a barren as the kitchen seemed to be. There was a fireplace and the chair the man had sat in. On the stand in front of the chair was a bible. One of the big old ones, the kind passed down from generation to generation with all the ancestor information in it.

Marko lifted the cover of the Bible and turned it over. The family tree information was spread out in front of him. He used his finger to follow the names, the dates, the relative titles, and the timelines. He turned to the next page and stopped cold.

There was a line coming around the edge of the page, a continuation mark to tell the reader where to go for the next bit of information. The next limb on the family tree.

There was one name there.

Just one.

He turned back to the previous page and double checked what he thought he saw. Yes, all the names on this side of the page had birth dates and death dates. Turning the page again. The single name, it had only a birth date.

“Oh, man. Oh, man. This is so wrong.”

“What, dude? What’s the problem?”

“Man, he’s the last one. There isn’t going to be anymore like him. He’s too old to have his own kids. There is no one left but him. We have to stop this now, man. Don’t you see, he doesn’t have anything. He is just a poor, lonely old man. Please, man, lets just go home.”

Justin wasn’t moved. His anger and frustration had been building for days. So, he was the only one…the last of his family. That just meant he had it all. He never had to share with anyone. Well, he will share now.

“Listen, we are going to finish this. We are going out to that tree and we are going to take what he has there. And we will make him tell us where he hides all the other stuff he has.”

They left the house, trashed, with nothing they didn’t enter with. On the way, Justin found a small piece of tree trunk. He stuck it in his back pocket of his jeans. Just something to scare him with. To make sure he gives it up.

Approaching the tree from the backside, they saw the old man rising from his seated place near the tree. The box was wrapped up and was being readied to be placed back into it’s hiding place. As he took his first step away from the tree, he heard a twig snap and he froze. Slowly he turned around and came face to face with his pursuers.

“I was wondering when you were going to show yourselves.”

“You saw us? When?”; asked Justin. Marko was frozen. He couldn’t take his eyes off the old man. His face showing no signs of fear. He had to know why they were there, yet he didn’t seem afraid.

“Well, I think the first time was just over that hill there, behind that rock. You sat there and watched for a long time. Followed me home, that day, you did. Peeked in my windows, too. “

“You didn’t call the cops?”

“No phone, boy.”

“Who doesn’t have a phone? “

“Someone with no one to call.”

Those words hit Marko like a brick to the head. No fear. And unashamed of his life. A serious complication for what was about to happen here. He knew that his friend was itching for a fight. That he hoped the man would put one up. Marko had hoped that just the sight of them would leave the old man with such fear, he would drop his box and run. It wasn’t going to go that way.

“What is it I can do for you boys? I mean, you must have better things to do with your time than to follow an old man around from his house to his drea…ahhh, his tree.”

“What was that? What kind of tree did you say, old man?”

“Ahh, it’s just a weeping willow. Just an old willow tree.”

“No, I think you were going to call it something else. What was that? And why ‘weeping willow‘, what‘s that about?”

The old man sensed the ugliness. He knew that he was in trouble, but he thought that if he could just talk to these boys, they would let him be on his way.

“No, nothing else. Slip of the tongue. I believe the name comes from the arc in the branches representing a tear drop effect. But, I have my own ideas.”

“And what would they be, old man?”

“Well, because of the physical nature of the tree, it creates a tent effect underneath when sitting against the trunk. Like a cocoon from the outside world, a safe haven for dreamers and such. I believe the branches form a filter for the dreams, regrets, desires, and prayers of those that choose to sit beneath it and share with the tree. The tree and it’s branches weep for those things with rain drops slowly sliding down and rinsing away the weight that holds them down. Upon their cleansing, the dreams, regrets, desires, and prayers are lifted up to the heavens for the angels to care for. The tree is the delivery system. The mailman to what goes above. Do you understand?”

Marko felt his heart sink. This was bad. He knew from day one that this was going to be awful and he was right. He also knew, by the look on his friend’s face, there was no turning back.

Anger showed on Justin’s face.

“Understand? No, I don’t understand. You fill my head full of this prayer stuff to try and distract me. I want that box, old man. And you are going to give it to me. And you are going to tell me where you hide all your other treasures. Or so help me, you are going to wish you had.”

The old man never flinched. He raised the box to his chest and pulled it tight.

“No, now son…I am afraid I can’t do that. Nope. And I have no other treasures. All of what I am is in this box. For better or worse, it‘s what sustains me. And I will not let it go over threat or bribe.”

“Can’t? Did I sound like I was giving you a choice? And I got to know something else. What’s with the fist pump to your chest? What the hell was that about?”

The old man just stared at the boy. Not understanding at first what he meant. Justin tried to recreate it for him, clumsily trying to recreate the gentle gesture of the old man. Suddenly recognition filled his face.

“Oh, that. A carry over from my boyhood that I don’t even realize I do. I am grabbing memories.”

“Grabbing what?”

“Memories. Out of the air. And putting them back, close to my heart so I can carry them there. I don’t even realize I do it anymore. Must have seen me remembering. It’s when I do that. Just so I can hold on. I try to do it with new experiences, to put them there. And when I pull them out to look through, I have to make sure to put them back or I will loose them.”

Justin just stared. The answers, coming so calmly and with such feeling, angered him so much. He just wanted the box. No more talking. No more dream and prayer crap.

“Mister, I want that box. I need you to give my friend and I that box.”

The old man looked at Marko for a few seconds and replied; “I don’t think your friend here wants anything that I have. I think all he wants is to be miles away from here. It’s you that has your heart set on this. But, I tell you, I can’t allow that.”

Justin pulled the piece of trunk, a thick branch piece out of his back pocket and held it above his head.

“Mister, I don’t want to do this. I really don’t. But, I will. Put the box on the ground and walk away with your life.”

A single tear raised in the old man’s eyes. It streamed down his right cheek and he turned just for a moment to seek out his horizon…his vision place. He felt the warmth of the sun streaming through the hanging vine type branches of the tree strike his face. And a peace lowered onto him.

“No, son. I won’t do that. What I think is that it is exactly what you want to do. What is in here means nothing to anyone but me. I will not let it go to the likes of you. Do what you must, but I will never let it go.”

Justin stared. Marko looked at him with eyes pleading for him to put the club down and walk away. They needed to go. They needed to get far away from this man.

Justin stepped quickly to the old man and struck him twice in the head. He went to one knee, the box still in his hands, still clutched to his chest. He struck him twice more, driving him to the ground. The old man rolled on to his side and through his dying eyes looked one last time at his horizon. He smiled a brief smile. And as the last breath passed his lips, the leaves and branches of the willow twisted and turned, creating a sound like a cry. A soft cry…and then the rain started.

Marko stood frozen, in shock. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen. Sure, they had robbed before. But, they never hurt anyone. Sure as hell never killed anyone.

“What did you do, man? What the hell did you do? I can’t believe it went this far. I can’t believe you brought me here. I told you this was going to go bad. I told you that it felt wrong. But, you just had to have the box. Just had to know the secret. Well, there it is. Go get it.”

The box was still in the old man’s hands. He never dropped it. He never let it go.

Justin couldn’t seem to move. He couldn’t find the courage to reach down and take his prize.

“Oh, man. Don’t this beat all. You got the balls big enough to take a man’s life, but not his possessions? You have balls big enough to put me in this jackpot, but you don’t have them to finish this. What a bitch. How could I listen to you? What was I thinking? No, man…you are going to see. You are going to know why it was this man had to die.”

Marko reached down and pulled at the box. It wouldn’t budge. His anger at his friend…his murdering friend…was overtaking him. He stomped on the hands and wrists with his boots, hearing the bones breaking under his heal. It took many stomps, but the death grip loosened. As Marko reached down and pulled the box away, the leaves and branches shook again in the shower of rain.

And something escaped, a vacuum of air sucked from under the tree. And then the rain stopped and the leaves and branches stilled. And a ray of sun shone down through the limps onto the box.

Marko lifted the box to his chest and sat down on the wet ground. He stared at is friend while he opened the lid and then lowered his eyes to look inside. He was confused at first. A strange look came over his face. He reached in and pulled things from the box. There was a picture of a man and a woman…the man a younger version of the old man lying dead on the ground. He was in a uniform. She was beautiful. Both smiling, holding on to each other. He flipped the picture over and found the word “Her” on the back. He laid the picture down and found an envelope. Addressed to a woman, postmarked some Fifty years ago. He pulled the one sheet letter from the envelope and read;

“Dear Gretchen:

I, with God’s blessing, have lived through this God awful war. Oh, how I have missed you. My love for you has grown each and every day that I have been away from you. Your smile guided me through and is bringing me home to you. I will search forever to find you.

All my love,
…”

He put the letter back in the envelope and flipped it over. On the back of the envelope was the word “dream”.

The next item was a news paper article. Again, dated some fifty years ago, a wedding announcement. The bride, Gretchen, had married a man shown in the picture, not the man that lay before him. He turned the article over, and written on the side edge, next to an add for Chesterfield Cigarettes was the word “reality”.

Tears were streaming down Marko’s cheeks now. It was starting to sink in. He started to realize. But, he knew, out of respect for this man’s life, he needed to see it all.

Below the article were cards. Hundreds of small blue cards. All with a cross on them. All with notes on them.

Prayer cards.

All with the same name on it. Gretchen. Different prayer requests. Some for happiness. Some for health. Some for peace. Some for hope. And some just for her immortal soul. The treasures that were kissed, were just small blue messages to God.

The tears were really coming from Marko now. He looked on last time in the box and found a small black box. Inside, a ring. The sticker on the bottom of the case was in French. A ring brought back from a war, meant to seal a bond that had carried this man to safety through hell. And it sits in this box unused. Carried thousands of miles to be buried under a tree.

Marko stood, holding the small black jewelry box. He held it out to his friend, his future co-defendant, his partner in murder.

“Take it dude. It’s what you came for. It’s all that you can pawn. The only thing that ‘s worth money.”

Justin stared in shock. There had to be more.

“There is no way that this old man made me kill him for some stupid piece of jewelry. There has to be something else of value in there. Something we can sell. Or money. Something.”

“No man, this is it. There is still very valuable things in here. But, not what you are looking for. Not what you want. Nothing you would understand.”

“Valuable things? Man, I don’t get it, man. And what’s with the tears? Uh, what can be important but not valuable? What did he die for?”

“What did he die for? What did he die for, really? No, man…what did you kill him for? That is the question. He fought a war and lived. Was willing to die, but something said no…he was needed else where. He lost the one person that he cared about more than anything. And he lived. He spent his life caring about her, praying for her, and thinking of her every day. Saving his memories to his heart so they would never escape him. He was staring at that horizon looking for his dreams under the tree that knew how to send them where they needed to go. Don’t you understand you are asking the wrong question?”

Tears filled Marko’s eyes, sobbed caused his chest to heave.

“What was he protecting, dude? His life. Not the one you took, the one he carried with him everywhere he went. Dude, the question is what did you kill him for? You killed him for his love. It’s all he ever had. And he wasn’t going to give that to us. His love, man. That’s it.”

Marko hit his knees, looked up through the limbs swaying in the light summer breeze, and looked towards the horizon. His eyes pouring, his heart pounding. He said the only words that came to mind.

“Please forgive me.”

And, the rain returned, and the branches swayed, a sigh from the tree, and a release of a prayer…where it always needed to go.

Her Name Was Michelle

Her name was Michelle.

It was two weeks before Thanksgiving in 1987. How am I so sure? Well, read on…you will see.

It was a cold early winter day in Philadelphia. I was sitting in a small bar across the street from work that was a favorite hang out for a group of us before heading home a couple nights a week. This night, I was alone. It had been a rough day and I just wanted to relax before heading on that train back to Jersey.

I had been there about an hour when I heard the door open and turned to see if I recognized a face. The first person through the door was this beautiful redheaded woman. Hair curly and shiny down to the middle of her back. A face that would cause angels to blush and eyes that could hurt you from a hundred miles away. I lost my breath.

Behind her came a person I knew. The office manager from the firm I worked for and two secretaries from admin…all of whom I considered friends. They saw me, waved and came over. I was introduced.

Michelle.

I bought drinks for all, just so they would sit. They told me that they were headed to a small piano bar not far from here and that I was welcome to join them. I hesitated. I didn’t want to break up what to appeared to be a “Girls Night Out” kind of thing. They assured me that wasn’t the case, that there were others that would be meeting them, and that if I didn’t have any other plans, please come. I didn’t commit right away. I will be honest, I was nervous. And that was not something I was used to being.

I was 27 years old. I was a paralegal. I was a part of the local music scene in Philly and South Jersey. Had been for a couple of years. I wasn’t by no means famous. But, I knew people. And I had no trouble with company. My trouble, if that is what you would call it, would be commitment. Not just to a relationship. Hell, to a date. To a moment. I just never took anything…any situation what so ever having to do with the opposite sex very seriously. I wasn’t like some who saw it as a game. They would lie and say anything to have someone’s attention for a short time and then just discard them. No, I didn’t go that far. I was honest. Told the women I knew at that time there was no chance for relationship. There was no marriage in my future. There may not be another date. I lived in the moment and I liked it. So, I never made plans further than a day or so. I rarely kept phone numbers for any length of time. I just didn’t care enough. I just didn’t want the responsibility.

Michelle.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. And I am pretty sure she noticed right away. I am pretty good at wearing a mask during the “I don’t give a shit” moments of my life. But, when something reaches in a pulls me out a bit, I wear all that on my sleeve. I have a very difficult time hiding it. And I was having a huge problem here. I remember going to the piano bar. We ended up sitting next to each other. I remember going to the men’s room and throwing water on my face. Doing all I could to shake this weird feeling that I was having. I will be honest, it was foreign to me. I seemed to have vague recollections of it in high school. But, that was so long ago. I just couldn’t seem to recall the reason for it then to determine the reason for it now.

We talked all night. It was a table of 10, but it was party of two. We both had been born in Pittsburgh. Her parents had also been divorced since she was young. She also had moved around a lot. She loved her Steelers. We liked the same music. We had read many of the same books.

All this discovered sitting in a noisy piano bar.

We all got up to leave and made our way to the street. We stood there deciding which way each of us was going and who would travel with whom. I stated that I need to catch the train to Jersey to pick up my car. Michelle said she had driven and asked which train station I was heading to.

“Collingswood is where my car is.”

“I live in Collingswood. Don’t take the train, I will get you to your car. It will be quicker.”

I remember the look from my friend the office manager. A look that said:

“I know you, asshole. This is my friend. Don’t you do anything to hurt her. I will hunt you down like a dog if you do. Asshole.”

I agreed to the ride. I was pleased to have some extra time, time alone with this person. I can honestly say that those thoughts had not entered my mind about any woman that I had been close to (in my narrow definition of close), ever. As I said, I never cared enough about the next minute to concern myself about who would be in it. I just floated.

The ride was full of music talk and stories about mutual friends. It seemed that we knew a lot of the same people. When I asked how I hadn’t met her before, she said that she had been sort of away. And she left it at that. We got to the train station way to fast. She pulled up next to my car and parked. We sat there for over an hour. Neither one of us wanted to stop talking. We decided that parking lot sitting was just stupid and made our way over to the nearby diner. We each had tea (she didn’t drink coffee either) and we split a bowl of ice cream.

The conversation turned to relationships. I stated that I wasn’t in one and hadn’t really been in one in a very long time. She asked how long and I told her there was a girl here in Jersey that I was serious about when I was in the service, seven years before. I know that seven years to me now doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you are in your late twenties, that is forever.

She told me that she has just gotten out of an engagement. She said that was what she meant by “away”. She said that he had been a very controlling person who did his best to separate her from her friends. He was older than her, in his early forties. He had been divorced once already and had blamed the entire thing on his first wife. Said that she didn’t understand him, etc. What she realized is that it wasn’t exactly how it happened. The ex-wife had contacted her and told her there was some violence in the marriage. That when he didn’t get his way, his fists would fly. She said she hadn’t seen that side of him up to that point, but said that some of his actions made it easy for her to believe. They lasted a few short weeks after that and then she broke it off. He didn’t take it well and she quit her job and moved out of town for awhile. She had only been back in the area for about two months on this night.

I could see the hurt in her face as she told me all this. I also remember the look of surprise when she realized that she had said all this to someone she hadn’t known existed just 6 hours before.

She told me I was sweet. She told me that I must be special to someone, the way I could just listen, know just when and what to say. That I must be in someone’s heart.

I assured her that none of that was the case. She argued over the “sweet” part, and I reluctantly gave in…I wasn’t sure I knew what sweet was, so how could I argue?

I walked her to her car. She handed me her business card. Asked me to call her sometime, that maybe we could talk again. I was shocked. Truly shocked. I gave her my card and told her that she would hear from me….soon.

I went home that night and couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get the sight of her out of my eyes. I couldn’t get the smell of her out of my head. I remember getting up and pacing my apartment. I just couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening to me. What was going on? I fought this kind of thing for years. Ever since the beautiful Patty had left me for my best friend just weeks after the ship I was on left for a Med. Cruise. That was one long cruise after that. Nine months of long letters and longer nights thinking about those two together. It was hell. And I swore I would never allow any female to wrap me up like that ever again. Never.

Until Michelle.

See, you can make a promise to yourself like that, but you will learn that you have very little control over what happens to you when it comes to love. It will leave you alone for a while. Let you fumble around and play the little games you play thinking that you are staying ahead of the emotional system. Never getting too close. Never promise anything. Never commit. And for God’s sake, never tell a woman that you feel anything.

Until Michelle.

The very next day, there was a message waiting for me at the front desk. Pam, the receptionist, smiled at me and asked; “Who’s Michelle? She must be special if you actually told her where you work.” I ignored her, desperate to read the words on the little pink note pad.

“Thank you for last night. It’s the most interesting and fun evening I have had in a long time. Hoping “soon” is soon. Michelle.”

I lost my breath again.

I called her immediately and set up a date for lunch. Okay, not a date…we both agreed not to call it that. We were just two new friends meeting for lunch. That’s all. I went to my friend, the office manager, and told her the situation. I explained to her that I found her friend very interesting and that we had a great time doing nothing but talking and that I just wanted a chance to get to know her better. I told her that I would do everything in my power not to do anything at all to hurt her. She just stared at me for a few seconds.

“Holy Shit, Chuck. Finally, I see it. I have known you for four years and I have never seen this look in your eyes. She got to you, didn’t she. After the dozens of little girls you have been wasting your life with, she actually got to you. Ha, I didn’t think any of us would live to see this. Well, good for you…just be careful with her. She is fragile. And she is an amazing person. She deserves better than what she has had and better than you have given anyone in the past. So tread lightly, or I will hurt you myself.”

Message received.

We had an amazing lunch. We had gotten pasta bowls from a little place on 15th street and then walked over to the “Love” fountain across from city hall to stretch our legs. I walked her back to her building. And, standing at the elevator banks, alone with a hundred people around, she kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for a wonderful lunch.

Michelle.

At that moment, I knew I was in serious trouble. I was done. Ready to be served. I watched her get into that elevator and each step pierced my skin. The doors closed, and I just stood there unable to move. The numbers above the door started climbing and with each floor I felt a pang in my chest as if I had suffered a great loss.

Two days later, I came into work to find another message. Pam smiled at me again; “Two messages from the same woman in a week? You? I don’t think so.”

“Loved lunch, how about dinner. I can’t cook, so how about somewhere in Jersey? I know a place. Let me know. Michelle”

I called her back right away and we made plans for that evening. We talked over steaks and wine. For the first time I noticed things like candles on the table. I noticed the music playing in the background. But, mostly I noticed just how far away she seemed on the other side of that table. We talked forever. We held hands. And as we were leaving, standing in the archway waiting for the valet to bring my car, she kissed me. Not on the cheek. She kissed me.

And I lost my knees.

We went back to her place and we watched a movie. We had popcorn and a couple of beers. She asked me about my plans for the holidays and I told her I didn’t have any. My father and his wife were going to her parents for Thanksgiving, my sisters were all doing things with their families, and I hadn’t committed to anything.

She told me that she could use my help. She said that she had talked to Jacquie (the office manager) about me. I was a little worried, to be honest. But, she said that Jacquie had nothing but nice things to say. Said my biggest problem was that I hadn’t been able to see life past myself for a long time. She also told her that I was kind of known for being a decent cook amongst my friends. Michelle had an idea. She was having friends over for the holiday, but was afraid that she would mess up the cooking. She asked if I would be willing to help her. I agreed, but I told her there may be a concern.

“You do realize, that if you and I are making Thanksgiving dinner for a group of your friends, people that I don’t know, there may be a thought that we, as a couple, are doing this and that they may think….”

“Let them think what they want. As long as you and I know what we are, I am okay.”

“And what are we, Michelle.”

“Just getting started, Chuck.”

The next 10 days or so flew by. We shopped for all the food together, all the spices, all the desserts. We planned the whole menu together and we were hardly apart during those two weeks. I was in absolute heaven. And I think she was, too.

The holiday arrived and was a great success. I don’t consider myself to be charming or even engaging most times. But, this night…things just sort of went my way. The food was terrific and Michelle knew more about the kitchen then she led on. We made a great team and set an amazing table. Everyone left full, happy, and seemingly very happy to see their friend so happy.

The next few weeks went very quickly. Christmas was spent between our two families. We had an amazing New Years and the future just seemed to look amazing.

Just a week before Valentine’s Day, my long time friend, Mike, called me and asked me if I was ever going to hang out again. I had seen my friends in the last few months, but always with Michelle with me. He was looking for a “Guys Night” and I just didn’t feel it. He came to my house that night and we had a few beers and talked. He said he was concerned for me. That he had never seen me like this…one woman?…no way. I told him that I really cared about her. He asked if I could see a long term future with her and I said yes. I told him that I thought I was in love with her. I told him that I woke up everyday thinking of reasons to have to see her. I told him that there was no one else for me, anywhere.

He laughed. He laughed a lot.

“Not you, dude. So, not you. I know you. This is crazy. You don’t go out like this. You have to snap out of it. You need a night out with the boys. You need to get some of this crap blown off you. Come on, dude…please…lets go out.”

I refused at first. Told him that night, Michelle and I were going to a friends house for a wine and cheese thing.

“Wine and Cheese? What the hell is wrong with you? Where is Chuck? I don’t know man, you have changed in a ugly way. All committed and lovey dovey bullshit. I can’t take this. It’s not you. Okay, fine…you want to prove to me it’s the real thing. Tomorrow night, you and me….a couple of clubs…some dinner…music…just hanging out like boys. And you finish that night and you tell me that you don’t miss that…that you didn’t have fun, I will let you and this Michelle run off to the romantic little hell you seem to have envisioned.”

I reluctantly agreed. The wine and cheese thing went fine. Agreed, it’s not really my kind of thing, but it was hers. And that is all that mattered. I told her that Mike and I were going to hang out the next night and that I would see her Sunday, to make plans for Valentines Day. She agreed. I went home that night feeling like something was wrong. Feeling like I had made a some huge mistake. I didn’t lie. I told her I was going out and with whom. I didn’t tell her all the Mike had said, didn’t see the point in that. I figured I would get through the evening, tell Mike that I was happy and Michelle and I were going to be together for a long time and it would be done.

Mike and I went out that next night and hit three separate clubs on South Street. I enjoyed seeing some old friends playing music and just hanging out. But, my thoughts were in a little apartment in Collingswood. I just wanted to get through this night as quickly as possible and call her to see if she was still up and see if I could come over. Mike suggested a small place over near where I lived to close out the night. It was just short of eleven. I figured, call her when I got to the place and let her know I would be there in less than an hour. Get Mike done with and still get to see her. Best of both worlds.

Mike had met a few people in the last club in Philly and told them where we were going. We split the group up between three cars and headed over. I had a guy that Mike and I knew from a the shore club scene and two girls that I didn’t know at all. All lived in Jersey and said they could find ways to their cars from the place we were going. We arrived first. I walked through the door laughing a joke my shore friend was telling on the way in, one of the girls leaned on me as we were going through the arch way, I turned and….

There, sitting at a table….Michelle and two of her friends.

I never got a chance to explain. I tried. For days I made calls. I sent flowers only to have them sent back to my office. I stopped by her apartment, but she wouldn’t answer the door.

I never really spoke to her again.

____________________________________________________________________________________

A few years ago, I had heard from an old friend that Michelle had passed. She had lost a short battle with breast cancer. I remember hanging up the phone and crying my eyes out for a woman that I hadn’t spoken to in over twenty years.

I had felt things for her that I could never duplicate. I tried. I tried so damn hard. But, you can’t create magic, it just happens. And I did a stupid thing. And I let her get away. And with her, went that part of me that could feel that way. That part of me that could really feel magic.

I thought it was gone forever.

I recently discovered I was wrong. The only thing that I was missing this time was timing. I have thought a lot of Michelle over the last couple of weeks. Not as some target in what I was seeking. I wasn’t looking to use someone to replace her. No, that wasn’t it at all.

It was the fact that for the first time since meeting that amazing woman, I felt that magic again. I believed in it again. And falling short, doesn’t change that. The outcome will be the same. But, the chance to feel that again, well that is priceless. To have the first thought of every day and the last one at night to be about someone else, is amazing. The fact that it’s not reciprocated is irrelevant. To a point.

When you notice that your feelings are starting to make the situation difficult for the other person, that is hard to take. It’s hard to admit that you have crossed a line with emotion. There would seem, in a perfect world, no lines when it comes to feelings…as long as no one gets hurt. And I assume that is correct. I was just so wrapped up in myself and what I was feeling that I stopped thinking about what I was doing to someone else. How uncomfortable I may have made things for her. And just how much she was wishing things weren’t they way they seemed to be. I think that I may have come very close to losing a friend. And that is not a price I am willing to pay. She is special to me. So was Michelle. And in that situation, I didn’t see past my own feelings…my friend’s feelings…to realize that what I was doing, innocent as it was, was wrong. And so was this situation. Innocent? Yes. But, wrong of me to think that my feelings were more important than that of someone else.

I have said it a lot recently and I will end this with the same words. I am a very lucky man. I have felt overwhelming magic twice in my life. And I fell short both times, but….I wouldn’t change a moment of it. I don’t regret a moment of it. I hope that they never did either.