Posts in: Essay

I was in a devotional for the children and youth of New York City this evening. These things always get me inspired and bring a lot of reflection. But, unfortunately, this dwindles off quickly, and life starts to distract me again. Now here is the thing. I seldom share anything spiritual or faith-based. I fear I may offend and be ostracized by the community (any community, for that matter). I’m not talking proselytizing, but sharing thoughts, ideas, asking questions, and so on.

I received my record player yesterday. It’s just a cheap Victrola suitcase player. I bought it to listen to a record a friend of mine made for his friends as a Christmas present. Now I can see this turning into an addiction. The record player itself sounds pretty crappy in reality, but just the process of listening to music on one again was amazing. I sat at my desk and did some work with it spinning behind me, and it just felt so authentic if I could use the word in that way.

I’ve been in anticipation mode as of late for this year’s journaling. Currently, I have basically ground to a halt with much of any writing. I have a new Bullet Journal prepped and ready for 2022 and I want to write in it so badly I end up not writing in anything else. This leaves me with, well, not much. I do have other notebooks, I keep a Field Notes with whatever book I’m reading at the time to jot things down.

So it is another year, and Covid still runs rampant among us. I don’t want to dwell on it too much this Christmas morning, but some realities strike me in our Christmas activities. On Christmas eve morning, I wrapped presents for the girls at 3 am to ensure they didn’t catch me in the act. My wife is on nights in the hospital, where she is currently doing her residency. That morning, she came home telling me another story of another patient who proudly stated they didn’t get the Covid vaccine as they were just hours from being intubated.

For some odd reason, my wife and I ended up watching “Three Men and a Baby” at 7:30 in the morning. To be honest, these things happen now and again. My wife is working nights this week, so her pre-bedtime television watching ends up being in the morning. But to the point, I really think I liked the ‘80s so much more. Mind you; I was young back then, but oh, was it glorious; the ‘90s weren’t that bad either.

I wrote this in or around 1999 when I was much younger and much dumber, thought I should put it up. Before I induce any sort of confusion, I want to set some things straight. I am not a carp expert, I actually know very little about them. I’m a fly-fisherman, a fairly mediocre one at that. And most of all, I’m one of the few males in this country who has absolutely no knowledge of football.

In an earlier post, I was talking about some old postcards I had from the ‘60s that were my father’s from his time in Germany while he was in the Army. A friend shared Postcrossing with me. I thought this sounded like a fun idea! And who wouldn’t want a 60-year-old postcard, right? So I signed up for the service, chose to send a card, and the system randomly selected a recipient for me.

While digging through boxes of old photos and papers over the weekend, I found an envelope of old postcards from my father’s time in the Army around 1968 maybe. He was drafted during Vietnam and, by some miracle, spent the time in Germany. Lucky him, right? Either way, I don’t know the places on these postcards, nor do they mean anything to me personally other than they were my fathers. They were his memories.

The stone building sitting on top of the hill stood as a lone silhouette with the backdrop of blue sky. A stairway of flat white stone with intermediate patches of gravel and dirt on the not so steep parts ran up the rocky slope to it’s entrance. Along each side the plant life in browns, yellows, and greens grew sparsely around the hill in a colorful patchwork. Grey stone made up the building with it’s slate roof.

I’ve never really owned land, in the big sense. Nothing more than a backyard for me. But I do know people who have some, and they have been kind enough to let me pretend it was mine for short periods. Well, maybe they didn’t know I was pretending it was mine. But none the less they let me make use if it freely. I believe there is nothing better than being free to experience a place with no limits.