Streams of Consciousness

I can already see that it is going to be difficult to stick to my intention of picking only five songs from each year.  I know I can do whatever I want, because, hey, this is my project.  But, I'm practicing staying within the rules I've set out for myself, even if it's difficult.  My therapist might call this an 'exposure.'  Still, the punk rocker inside of me wants to strike out against any notions of form and order.  This tension between form and freedom always lives within me, and manifests itself in different ways, sometimes subtle, sometimes like a screaming banshee.   So many of these songs lead to memories, and then on to different threads of analysis, regret, gratitude and joy.  I've come to think of nostalgia as a dangerous emotion in and of itself.  It's only when it can be used as a catalyst for further creativity that I see it as something positive.  But, it's so easy to get trapped in it, bogged down in memories and a hopeless longing for a

1972 was a year of war and scandal.  Vietnam.  Watergate.  The world was so fucked up that the Nobel Committee didn't even bother to award a Peace Prize.  Don't blame me.  I wasn't around until September 2, at approximately 10:30 AM.  On that fine morning (actually, I have no idea what the weather was like), I made my entrance into the world in the southwestern PA town of Washington, Pennsylvania.  Curiously, though I wouldn't meet her until 1998 in Kansas City, MO, my wife Sharon was born exactly one month later in the very same hospital.  I was fortunate to be born into a loving family.  I take my elder kin's word for it that I brought joy and happiness to them.  Then again, what else were they going to tell me? What was life like during these first four months?  Obviously, I don't remember anything specific, but certainly I was beginning to learn things that are still part of me to this day.  I was the first child for my parents, who were fairly young, but th

On September 2, 2022, I turned 50-years old.  As with most of my birthdays, but perhaps with some added urgency this year, I find myself wanting to reflect, to take stock, to consider all the blessings, tragedies and triumphs dotting the landscape of my five decades of life. Over the years, I've started and stopped memoir projects several times.  It's not that I think the stuff of my life would be of particular interest to others.  Rather, it's more of a personal endeavor: a way to take stock of my life, to give some narrative to the grainy snapshots of memory, to process tragedies and celebrate joys.  In short, it's my way of trying to bring order to the chaos of life, to give a more formal structure to the random musings that make up my journal entries, social media posts and other random scribblings in various media.  To the degree I can understand my motivations, my goal is, if not to necessarily make my own life more interesting to myself, at least to make it more

Lynae, Mark, Sharon and I, along with our entire family, would like to express our gratitude for all of you being here today and to all those who have reached out to us over the previous week.   Although we may not have directly responded to all the messages, I can assure you that every note, phone call, voice mail and comment has been deeply treasured and has provided a significant boost at this difficult time. My dad was the greatest person I have ever known.   In accordance with his humility, he would have scoffed at such a notion, but, to me, and I believe many others, he represented the best of humanity.   As most of you know, dad fought for a long time against a number of health issues and bad breaks.   It’s not my intention to be morbid, but I want to mention a few of his major challenges to demonstrate how much he was able to overcome over his 70 years.   When he was 11, not only was he diagnosed with diabetes, his own father died at the age of 51.    He overcame these ea

A snippet of ongoing mental dialog inside my cranium runs something like the following: Brain Voice One: "I am a talented (logician) (thinker)(writer) (analyst) (kisser) (etc.)" Brain Voice Two: "Wait a second.  What makes you think you are talented?" Brain Voice One: "Well, I've had people tell me that I do task 'x' well, and I've often been satisfied with things that I've produced or accomplished." Brain Voice Two: "Surely there are better talents out there than you!" Brain Voice One: "Well, sure.  But do I really need to compare myself to other people to validate my talents?" Brain Voice Two: "How do you evaluate if you are good or not unless you measure it against other people?  Isn't goodness/badness relative?  We are either better or worse than others.  Or, at least our work is better or worse than other work." Brain Voice One: "This is getting off track.  It makes me f

Sometimes it's funny, the things that stay with you after some time has passed.  I remember this day being tinged with a touch of disappointment.  Disappointment that led to my own sadness, as I was (unrealistically) trying to make the entire trip perfect.  We all slept in until around 10:30 AM, catching up on some needed sleep.  After taking our time getting up and moving around, we went into Legoland around noon.  The boys were a bit grouchy, so we decided to get them something to eat.  It took a long time for us to wait in line for food.  While in line, Ben whacked Dominic for some reason, and Sharon yelled at him, so he began to cry.  While we were eating, Sharon talked to her mom to try to figure out some problem that we were having with dog care back in Missouri.  After eating, everyone's mood improved a little bit.  We went over into the water park area of the park, where it was super crowded.  I looked into renting a Cabana, and was willing to spend whatever they cost,