Monthly Archives: March 2009

In All Times: March 28 1:44 p.m.

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As regular readers of this blog know –there are nearly 1,000 of you – I will pass my father in time in this world this Saturday at 1:44 p.m., the first minute he wouldn’t reach when he died at 1:43 p.m. on August 16, 1969. I was 15.

If you count the number of days from his birthday on February 20 to August 16 and then count the same number of days from my birthday on October 2, you arrive on March 28. My father was 55 when he died. I am 55.

March 28 will not a horrible moment for me. Emotional, yes. But I am not afraid of emotion. If I was, I would not be alive today. Emotion is proof of the human spirit.

I do see 1:44 p.m. as a new beginning. I will be at my father’s grave site when that minute arrives and when I leave his side that day I will stride back into the world knowing that now, more than ever, I will live life for the both of us. I live it to the best of my ability and with all the honesty and integrity and courage I have.

Lately I have been quietly reassessing all my involvements in life and identifying relationships and connections I have that, I believe, preclude me, or seek to preclude me, from being who I am. I have disengaged from some all ready and there may be more, I’m not sure Life is too precious and there is too much to do to get bogged down in wasted time. Too much beauty and wonder in the world to breathe and experience. Too much joy and love I don’t want to miss. Too many people I would like to help discover or rediscover their extraordinary value in the world.

My father was, is and forever will be the greatest gift life has ever given me. I believe he would be proud of me these days. I still do my best to stand up for those who are not always given a fair chance of standing up for themselves. I am not always well received or well liked for this, but let me tell you, if you are looking to be well liked, fighting for equal rights may not be your calling.

The 28th of this month belongs to me and my father. When I leave his side that day I will drive to Michael’s house in Brooklyn. There is no person in the world I love more and trust more than Michael. It is really that simple. We are proof that you don’t need to be blood related to be brothers, just like my father and I are proof that you don’t have to be related to be father and son. I can think of no better place to be on the 28th.

Let me leave you with this. A day or two after my father died I sat down and wrote this poem for him. It is the only thing I’ve written in all my years that I can recite.


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In all times
And in all lives
There are moments
Filled with the sincerest
Intimacy
You and I have shared
Such moments and
I thank you
And love you
For those times
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Waitin’ For the Bully

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The doctor says we need to rule out cancer. I cock one eyebrow and say, No shit. He looks up, smiles and says, I think we’ll be okay here but I’m a little worried so best we’re careful. I say, I’m all for careful, bro.

I am surprised I am not surprised and not scared – just pissed. The day is beautiful and I am still in a good mood and the music that pumps pulsing from my car speakers on the ride home fills the air and as always my body moves to the rhythm. Need to rule out cancer, I think, and in a way I am glad because finally I can punch something straight in the mouth. I know the chance of cancer is not huge but knowing the possibility is on me for some curious reason makes me itch for a fight. Almost like I’ve learned a bully may be coming over and I’m thinking good because it’s been a long time since I’ve kicked somebody’s ass and this bully will do me just fine.

I am not worried about the possibility of this fight and realize this truth is a gift of sobriety. I know too there are people walking around these days who can thank my sobriety for the fact their legs have never been broken. The world of politics and advocacy can make you angry sometimes and sometimes, like I told Michael today, I miss the days when you can just challenge someone and throw hands.

Yes yes, I am glad those techniques of problem solving are many years behind me. But still… there are times when I see Dick Cheney – the man gives mens’ genitalia a bad name! – and realize I’d have no problem kicking his wimpy war criminal ass. And then there are others not so famous. One is this silk suited sugary sweet specious simp and, of course, others.

But you know what? I’m gonna go work on my garden today, plant some seeds indoors, listen to music, smile, and wait for the bully if he chooses to come to my door and, if he does – I’ll kick his ass.
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Memo to Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich

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Lord knows I like columnists Maureen Dowd and Frank Rich very much. But humble up for God sakes and get over yourselves. Obama isn’t in office three months yet and already you two are taking prepubescent runs at him. Please note, I write about these two columnists because I really do respect them. Believe me, I’m not going to write anything like this about the likes of Bill “Lufa” O’Reilly, Sean “Brylcream” Hannity or that skeevy little twit, Glenn Beck, because those three were apparently put on earth to drool poison, dribble dishonesty and sweat hatred.



Dowd and Rich are without question class acts who despite being so, could use a dose of humility, and a nudge once in awhile to get themselves right sized, as it were.



In today’s NY Times Dowd is whining that we “less smooth jazz and more martial brass,” comparing Obama’s extraordinary calm to smooth jazz. Maureen, if you want martial brass, start a band. Most Americans are grateful for a calm non-panicking president. Relax. And, by the way, we could all use a little more jazz in life.



Rich writes, “A charming visit with Jay Leno won’t fix it”, it being the economy. Thanks for the heads up, Frank. I’m sure the president and the rest of us really were thinking: Wow, he’s on Leno, our economy is saved. Relax, Frank. Maybe many Americans were happy to see him (20 million watched, bro) and maybe just maybe his going on Leno reminds all of us that it is okay to keep on living and enjoying life. That’s a pretty nice message to get when we so many of us are struggling don’t you think? And an even nicer message when it is coming from – wait for it – our president!



Sometimes I wonder if some columnists fear they would go into some kind of inner churning withdrawal if they were to say go a couple of days without criticizing someone and, perish the thought, try on the possibility that maybe they don’t know all the answers themselves.



Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself, folks, it is thinking less about yourself. So relax, breathe, turn on Leno and watch like the rest of us. You might actually have a nice time. We did.

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Word Sketch: Cormac

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I like the name Cormac. Me too. It has the sound of bark to it, tree bark. Tree bark. Yes like oak I think. There’s power in it. Color too. Sometimes color, but not always, sometime the color of void. Voids have color, don’t you think? I do actually think that yes. You mean nothing right saying void? Yes. Nothing. Total absence which is itself is a fullness. And fullness has color? Yes. Like the name Cormac.

Agreed.
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All In One

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My hands in the earth and of the earth. Dark moist dampness hosting rocks large and small roots I understand and roots I don’t but I know we are
all in one.

I am entirely reachable and entirely unreachable
all in one.

I am of the earth world weary of the more than one too many near me who dip their wings invitingly with feigned loving hearts of pallid stone I know now they are nothing
all in one.

It is the words for me it is in the words. On this page and others. Their stark landscape sometimes with mountains cresting in the distance casting darkness falling over the nape of their neck the travelers drifting into the darkness there in the cold of it and in the warmth of it
all in one.

My hands and words now back in the earth shifting and churning seeds planted in the hope of growth luscious seedling moments burst the surface in orchestrated unison all in one.

There now the warm hands holding the soft brush of human cheek to human cheek, my lips gentle on the breast over a heart beating warm light the cresting new day brings the healing sweep of sun and skin to skin embrace
all in one.
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