Trip Around The Sun

OK, I am a Jimmy Buffett fan, you may have noticed this a time or two in these little observations before.  He makes me think, and just today, the song I used as a title fits best what is on my mind (it's a Jimmy Buffett/Martina McBride collaboration).  Just how do you put this birthday thing in perspective?

Sure, the first thought is I'm glad to be here.  What follows is a question--why?  Well, aren't we all glad to be surviving?  Isn't that the evolutionary thing?  We are driven to survive, and making another year is worth celebrating, no matter what.  As my sister says, I wake up and I'm glad to have another day.  But Jimmy's song tackles something more:  

Hear 'em singing Happy Birthday 
Better think about the wish I made.

Do you remember making a specific wish?  Not me, my thought is I probably wished for another year, that's all.  Does that birthday wish focus on anything long-term?  Usually, it arises out of a short-term thought you have.  "I want this, or I hope that..."  The longer term look at things to me is about the people  you manage to keep around you in your life.  Some of them are family, people who are patient and stay around whether you have paid your dues or not. They put up with your inconsistency, your divided attention and your wandering (both literally and figuratively), but in the end, here they remain.  Thanks to all of you.

This year gone by ain't been a piece of cake 
Every day's a revolution 
Pull it together and it comes undone 
Just one more candle and a trip around the sun

Did you wish for an easy year, something you'd easily manage? Pulling it together just never seems to work out as you planned. Mostly, I have tried to roll along and keep the right people (friends) around me if I can.  We run across fine people, and if we are lucky, we can keep them around, but we're just hanging on as things work out--we aren't in control.  The world spins and we aren't in charge. As Jimmy sees it, it's just the same.    

I'm just hanging on while this old world keeps spinning 
And it's good to know it's out of my control 
If there's one thing that I've learned from all this living 
Is that it wouldn't change a thing if I let go

But Jimmy adds something, he notes that all his effort to control things doesn't change a thing.  He can change very little, so letting go makes sense.  

Did I do the right things?  Did I spend my time well?  Heck, I don't know.  I know there are some great things that happened to me at just the right time.  Did I spend my time well?  I think so, but you know what?  I just know it flew by.  You don't have time to second-guess.  What you did you did, what you spent your time on you spent.  I may have a bruise or two and a scar or two, but all in all, I have enjoyed and I look forward to another.  Jimmy adds a thought or two--

No, you never see it coming  
Always wind up wondering where it went  
Only time will tell if it was time well spent  
It's another revelation  
Celebrating what I should have done  
With these souvenirs of my trip around the sun.

What I should have done--is that something I can celebrate?  Only time will tell.  

So, should I make a wish or resolution this year?  I wonder...  I'd mostly like to keep on going and see what's around the next bend. Here's Jimmy's take--

  

Yes, I'll make a resolution 
That I'll never make another one 
Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun  
Just enjoy this ride ...  
Until it's done

Yes, make a resolution--not to make another one.  At this point in my life, I can agree, but I wonder if things would have worked out as they have if I had never made a resolution or decided to pursue something I saw in front of me, even if it was beyond my grasp.

This Little Light of Mine

I bought a rug tonight.   It's a made of wool, made in America, machine woven "oriental" rug.  I will probably never be allowed to walk on it with shoes on.  You may think this is a restrictive, limiting rule being imposed on me by someone in authority in my living room (ok, it's my wife--c'mon guys, how many of you seriously believe you have the primary authority in your living room?).  The fact is walking barefoot over this little piece of wool is far better than treading on it in your shoes.  

Why do i talk about this rug when the title is the "This Little Light of Mine?"  Well, we bought this rug at a benefit auction.  My wife quickly points out the purchase price was well below its retail value.  She was bidding against a very nice woman she had just met--apparently trying to outbid each other at an auction is a way of strengthening the newly-formed bond between women.  I would say right now that I'll never understand women, but guys compete as a way of bonding all the time--on any golf course or basketball court or squash court you see, you will see the very same thing.  Add to that the fact that this woman was the wife of a retired NFL player and coach, and--well you get the picture.  

Moments before we walked into the site of the benefit, we thought about just turning around and leaving.  After all, we had made a donation by buying the tickets, and we didn't know more than a handful of people who would be attending, and they would all be working on various aspects of the benefit's silent and live auctions and raffles.  We decided to go ahead and I wound up with this rug.  

The event had a keynote speaker, who was the niece of a well-known person, and I had no real idea of her connection to the cause the dinner was to benefit and low expectations--my sense was this was a relative of a famous person who wouldn't be speaking to us unless she was born into this famous family--a little like watching TV news magazines featuring Bill and Hilary Clinton's daughter.  I was wrong (OK, are you really surprised?), she turned out to be an engaging speaker with a positive message that fit perfectly with the purpose of the evening's benefit.  She wrapped up her presentation leading us all in a rendition of "This Little Light of Mine" with a couple of new lines.  Here they are

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.  

If your light don't shine, please don't put out mine.  

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.  

If your light don't shine, please share some of mine.

I kinda like them.  How about you?

More of Murphy's Move

And the grand finale, the furniture doesn't fit.  Oh, that comes after the roof repair crew arrives and begins removing the ceramic tile roof on moving day, with their scaffold edging into the only entrance to the villa, not quite blocking it, but....  And that was after hearing about the standard $30 fuel surcharge charged for the four mile trip from the self-storage facility to our villa.

But the day began with rebooting the modem and router on the cable internet service for the sixth time in the three days it has been installed.  Which took place the day after we contacted the phone company to ask why our voice mail wasn't working, along with caller ID and call waiting, which were said to be included in our service.  At that point, I was informed that they needed to add them to my account, no explanation was offered as to why it hadn't been there as promised when I signed up.

All of this followed the discovery that one of our bedrooms was damaged by water seeping in from an issue with the roof.  This we reported to the property manager, who declined to respond, since "on their records" we were not yet the owners.  To preclude any repeat, I had contacted the paralegal who handled the transaction and asked for her help in establishing that the check indeed had been provided to the property manager along with the deed.  Two days later, I learned the check had been mailed to a PO Box used by the property manager--used until they had cancelled it several weeks previously.  So the documents and check had been returned and was subsequently mailed to the property manager.  Several days later that was sorted out and they responded.

This followed a week of waiting for our beds to arrive, both had been ordered immediately before and after the closing of the real estate transaction, but delivery was delayed, and the beds finally showed six days after we closed.  Ahh, we could lay our heads on our own beds.  Having spent the night there, we soon became dissatisfied with sitting only on beach or card table chairs inside our new place.  You see, our couches were not due for delivery from storage until a week from the next Friday; also, we had given away our dining room table and chairs when we sold the house, since we expected to move into a furnished place.  So we had to find a set that would fit into our new place.  That took several days, while we waited for new tables to arrive at the furniture store that we had come closest with.  The chairs and a table arrived on a Friday, and we went to look.  We found what we wanted, bought it and scheduled delivery as soon as we could, three days later.  Today, we added our own furniture and it is complete.  We have moved into our new home, completely.

That is eighty-six days after we moved out of our house--more than 12 weeks later.  Our original plan had us traveling to a couple of weddings in early July and moving into our new home the same day we returned, having closed using a power of attorney while we were on our trip.  Our biggest concern was how to get our new keys if we arrived after hours.  But that all fell through, and that's another story--trust me, there were plenty more turns like those described above.

In any case, that didn't work out, and Murphy's Law took us on an odyssey.  I call it Murphy's Move.

Seeing What's There Instead of What Isn't

What can you say about a day that centers around a root canal?  I succeeded in breathing through any associated pain--either a testament to my ability to avoid the suffering of suffering, or there was no nerve alive up there in the first place.

Now, it occurs to me that sometimes we focus on what's missing.  I didn't have the pain I expected, I didn't need to focus on that.  I only needed to accept what was there, a simple dental procedure, and not what was missing.  Thinking more about that, I went looking for some original thoughts on the subject. I found it--there's a book about the paranormal that addresses this very issue.  People look for explanations in what isn't there.  They try to explain unexplained things that happen with some other theory, like an unknown force that is steering or causing things that cannot be explained.  There are a host of mental leaps that people make or are encouraged to make at times like that.  In the paranormal world, it comes about when people begin seeing what they want to see.  In the face of vague pronouncements people have proven again and again that most will choose to fill in with new meaning they came looking for.

Practitioners of the art of persuading others they can predict their future resort to flattery, double-headed (or ambiguous) statements and deliberately keep things vague.  The persons being tricked--there is no better word--simply choose among the meanings offered the one they wish to believe.  In the end, it is the human ego that is fed and watered with what isn't there, allowing them to fill in the blanks.

So what about my root canal?  I could choose to believe I have a high tolerance for pain, but the realist in me says, I don't know, but it is more likely just a lucky day.  I'll take that and enjoy it more than making believe I can withstand pain more easily than others.  The latter sounds like cruisin' for a bruisin' to me.

BCC Among The Acronyms

Oh yes, this is BBC
I'm pretty sure he said to me.
And here's one, too
It's more common for you, your eyes are blue.

I'll take a chunk out of each one,
they're common in areas exposed to the sun.
The most common crab now grows here,
I thought, not in a form that many fear.

We'll send them to the lab first,
to seal off any doubt
but I am sure the next step,
will be to get them out.

Know any plastic surgeons?
"Sure my contact list just burgeons."
I didn't say it though,
just shook my head--the quiet "no."

I'll send you to a friend of mine,
He'll fix you up just fine.
Oh, take off your shirt, please.
There could be more of these.

No, these are moles, there's nothing here
You should come back--say, once a year.
I'll take a look, make sure you're clear.
Tell Sheila I said there's nothing here
To worry about, no cause for fear.

It never crosses over
It's only BCC, basal cell carcinoma.
Not the one with no initials, the one you do fret over
The one known only by its full name, deadly melanoma.
.  

Teaching Grandchildren How To Putt

It was bound to happen by now,
The tiniest course will be theirs.
He knew that he must teach them how
To know how it feels to win, if anybody cares

These are skills to remember
A lifetime to use but yet,
How hard it seems to keep their focus
And their rapt attention get.

The place had a pirate theme,
Eye patches, red bandanas, flintlocks and belt buckles,
Cannons and ships, sails and slips,
Forgotten were scurvy, rum and bruised, abraded knuckles.

Grandpa’s reaching the end of his rope—
Now there’s an idea—he really wants to teach,
But always on the move,
They’re so very hard to reach.

There’s enough rope to allow
Holding them securely enough to start.
They are still and listen now
To what he teaches and still knows by heart.

‘Holding the putter—begins with the hands.
Place the lead hand—the one closest to the pin—
at the top, And the trailing hand below it.
No, your thumb goes on top, that’s it’

‘Now addressing the ball has several parts:
Nose above it, centered between the feet.
Turn the head, eye the target.
Look at your feet again to see….’

If I can just get two or three things across
In each little lesson,
They won’t be tied up for very long,
And soon the joy of winning will carry them on.

“Why can’t we just hit the ball?
I’m in a hurry—rocks to climb and see,
Bugs to chase down—and I have to win
The race, so I can go first at the next tee…”

‘No, first lay the putter down,
Touching the tip of each big toe.
The putter points the way a ball,
if you strike it well, will go.’

Now skeletons I spy
In pirates’ graves under the sea.
There’s more to see, much more
But who will know?

‘Now how to strike the ball—
The backswing—straight and smooth without a jerk,
Move the putter forward, along the ball’s intended course,
The wrists don’t bend, the shoulders do the work.’

I think they are getting it.
They were “bound” to, as I wished.
Teaching them is easy,
once bonds have been established.

“Grandpa, can’t we stop now?
I’m hungry, I thought you said ice cream
I think Mommy forgot to give us lunch,
I won’t see any pirates if all we do is putt.”

Grandpa continues—
‘The putter’s blade is perpendicular
To where you want to go
There are one hundred ways
To go awry for every one that’s true.’

Figures watching, with hooks for hands, and
Pegs for legs—some long-forgotten fish,
Encountered at the wrong time,
Striking at limbs not of the prey it sought.

“We know it, Grampa. We know it now.
We’ll show you what we learned,
Untie us, we can show you how,
and then we’ll have ice cream.”