Love Unrequited

 Ever woke up in the morning angry? I mean not tired, just angry? I have had a few of those mornings lately. The problem is: I am confused by the origin of this anger.

According to various experts,"anger is what people experience when they fail to get what they think they need or must have.  It is an emotional response to a frustrated demand". Am I frustrated?  Aren't we all frustrated to some extent in our life? The nature of frustration is disappointment, being disgruntled, obstruction, non-fulfillment, etc. Growing up, I always wanted to be a cowboy . Where's the horse, the boots, the spurs, the riding on the trail, and the chasing down of outlaws? There is no beer for my horses and whiskey for my men! So frustration can play a part, but to quote the Rolling Stones, You don't always get what you want, but sometimes you get what you need. Maybe frustration is what I needed!

  Other "experts" say: anger results from how people view what has happened to them. Oh, I see, this is a perception issue!  So if I perceive that the housing market collapse, stock market swindling, pyramid retirement schemes, corporate greed, starving children, abused animals, profit driven health care, lack of care for the homeless and having my head kicked by "the man" whenever possible as good, then I would be happy! Well, how ignorant of me, this anger that I feel is just because I am looking at all these dirty deeds in the wrong way! 

So I want to thank you, Bernie Madoff for stealing millions from hard working Americans, thank you Lehman Brothers, thank you Bank of America, thank you loan specialists for your sub-prime mortgages. Thank you Version, AT&T, American Express, Discover, and Visa for all your hidden fees and charges! A very special thank you goes out to my wonderful student loan companies and governmental organizations for all the thoughtful and considerate regard you have given me while I have tried to attain, through a college education, a small, but important piece of the American Dream. I am so sorry that I saw all of you as greedy, amoral, corrupt individuals and institutions. My bad! I am so sorry that I thought if I paid my taxes, was a faithful husband, a loving father, a hard worker, a defender of the Constitution and the laws that govern this great nation, all while treating others as best that I could, I would somehow be appreciated and given respect. A special, on my knees , I am not worthy sorry, goes out to all these aforementioned companies for my blatantly foolish and absolute disgrace to man decision to try and give back to society by forgoing my own interests and becoming a public school teacher. I mean what was I thinking! I promise to make it up to you on a salary so low, I have to decide between medication and food. I will forever long to look into your eyes and show you that I will become a better person, I will become a true American and start putting my own interests first above others, I can change! Please take me back, I need you so much! I can't live with out you!

Your always and forever,

The Idea Man

P.S.- Please call! I miss hearing your voice!

Moments in Time

The house is dark and quiet, almost tomb-like. The rest of the family slumbers in the deep, darkness of night. I lie awake, unable to quiet my mind. The red glow of my bedside clock informs me that 3.am. is not the time to rise for my day's activities. I ease back into a hypnopompic state. That range of anomalous experiences which surround periods of sleep and are conducive to extraordinary, subjective phenomena.

I see it all so clear, March, 2004. I stumbled out of the hospital into the world that I know, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The smoke slowly mingled in the wind, almost tauntingly, and while glancing across the chilly, early morning sky, a flock of brown, speckled birds flew overhead, majestic and free. The sun was rising gracefully and the glare of the light caused me to wince and recoil. Normally, I love sunrise, the beginning of a new day, hopes and dreams awaiting to be harnessed. Yet, this wasn't any normal day,  I had woke abruptly a few minutes earlier from a hospital lounge chair, as if I knew, and stumbled into his hospital room. I got there just in time to watch him breathe his last breath. I stood there, helpless and numb, his lifeless body looking pale, yet peaceful. A thought shrieked through my mind "I have just watched my father die".

I just knew he would live forever. "He can't really be gone, this is just a dream" I deduced. One of us will wake up soon and we will be arguing over my faults and shortcomings anytime now, just like normal. I feel small. The world seems bigger, harsher, and more confusing. His death wasn't a surprise, he had fought lymphoma with the steely perseverance that he used to survive an impoverished upbringing, actually lasted years longer than the "experts" predicted. It is so like him to "have to have it HIS way"! He was a fighter, but in the end we all lose, no matter how strong. Flashes of memories, bursting with clarity flood my consciousness. I remember mundane and innocuous moments of life he and I shared together that are no more composed in time than leaves in the wind. I take another deep drag off my cigarette and let the nicotine and memories permeate my body. I remember our fishing trips, our fights over useless dissimilarity, taking him to chemotherapy, fixing up an old car, changing his clothes when he was too feeble, and drowning in the desire for him to love me. These feelings are overwhelming, uncontrollable, and necessary. 

The hypnopompic state violently shifts my consciousness to an earlier time period in my life. This memory is less clear, yet just as intense.

Four years ago, almost to the day, I stood in this very same hospital and watched the glorious birth of my son. He was a joyous present from God that transformed my life into something meaningful. I now had a beautiful daughter and an heir to my name! How could such a degenerate, selfish, vulgarian like myself be the recipient of all these blessings. I still don't know the answer to that question. I never knew how transforming the birth of children could be to your soul, if you choose to let the power of life in. I was on cloud nine. I ran out of the birthing room, smiling with fear, and hugged my father, knowing now what he felt some 33 years ago. We were kindred spirits, my father and I, at that moment in time. The son had become a father to a son. I could see in his eyes, the joy, the fear, and the responsibilities that I would now face. He saw into me, letting me know that he hoped I could become a better man, maybe, a better father.

As I drift back to sleep, I come to know that the whole of life is but a moment in time and the boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague.