so there is this lady who lives in our building. she's a bit older than me. she's about 80. and every time i see her in the hallway or the lobby or the elevator, i always say hi to her. 'cause she is a genuinely nice lady. very pleasant and accommodating. and always in the mood to chat. about anything really. and not just topics that are of interest to her. no, she will often ask me what's going on in my life at the moment. and then proceed to carry on a conversation about those subjects for the next several minutes. but here's the thing. the moment one of her "contemporaries" shuffles by, meaning one of her octogenarian pals, she immediately abandons me in favor of her generational peer. and what's more, the old dame doesn't even make an effort at tact or discretion when she makes up her mind to flee. no, basically she just stops speaking to me, sometimes in mid-sentence, before wandering off in search of her mah jong partner. harsh.
"can you feel the burn in your glutes?" - anonymous
there is a little something called decency, you know
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
in my humble opinion
it's funny how sometimes you can stumble upon great truths just by paying attention to someone. by giving someone a chance. by having faith in someone. and it doesn't really matter who that person is. or how old that person is. or why that person decided to pass along that tiny little nugget of wisdom in the first place. because if it works, if it makes things a little bit better, even if only for a little while, then so be it.
and so i decided to take that person's advice tonight. to see where it would lead me. to see where it would end up. and with g-d as my witness, the results were actually positive for a change. and for the first time in a long time, i felt good about myself. and my relationship with my kid. and i could tell that the feelings were mutual. and that made me feel even better. about myself. and about us.
and so it made me wonder how many other tiny little nuggets of wisdom were still waiting out there to be discovered. if only i could look beyond my stubbornness. and my conceit. and my pride. if only i could admit that i don't really know very much, i could probably know so much more.
and now that i sense i'm just a little bit closer to the truth, i must say that i feel this enormous sense of relief. because i realize that even at my somewhat advanced age, i still have plenty to learn. and in a way, that realization is extremely comforting to me. because it means that i don't have to pretend that i have all the answers anymore. because i don't.
and to think that all of this emanated from just a few random words staring at me on a computer screen.
"the secret to everything is so simple..." - taxi (1978)
maybe the third time i've posted this song to my blog... and still with no regrets
and so i decided to take that person's advice tonight. to see where it would lead me. to see where it would end up. and with g-d as my witness, the results were actually positive for a change. and for the first time in a long time, i felt good about myself. and my relationship with my kid. and i could tell that the feelings were mutual. and that made me feel even better. about myself. and about us.
and so it made me wonder how many other tiny little nuggets of wisdom were still waiting out there to be discovered. if only i could look beyond my stubbornness. and my conceit. and my pride. if only i could admit that i don't really know very much, i could probably know so much more.
and now that i sense i'm just a little bit closer to the truth, i must say that i feel this enormous sense of relief. because i realize that even at my somewhat advanced age, i still have plenty to learn. and in a way, that realization is extremely comforting to me. because it means that i don't have to pretend that i have all the answers anymore. because i don't.
and to think that all of this emanated from just a few random words staring at me on a computer screen.
"the secret to everything is so simple..." - taxi (1978)
maybe the third time i've posted this song to my blog... and still with no regrets
Friday, October 15, 2010
going going gone
it was early this morning. and my first clue should have been the fact that the water pressure in my own shower was almost non-existent. but stubbornly i insisted on giving the shower in the girls' bathroom a try. it was just down the hallway. big mistake.
when i first stepped into the decidedly more sanitary ladies' bathtub and turned the handle, the water pressure certainly seemed decent enough. not strong, not even steady, but adequate for the job at hand. i did notice, however, that the temperature was a little cool for my tastes but hey, i was merely a guest in another's facilities. that and the fact that i never, ever look a gift horse in the mouth.
so in i jumped in order to initiate my daily routine of lather, rinse and repeat. but about three minutes into the procedure, i couldn't help but notice the water pressure beginning to wane. at the same time, the water temperature was moving from cool to icy in a hurry. unfortunately for yours truly, i was right in the middle of a lather cycle. in other words, i was still covered in soapsuds from head to toe just as the well had begun to run dry. in a panic (lather?) i immediately summoned my wife to the bathroom in order to enlist her services as a makeshift personal assistant. naturally i was desperate to rid my frame of irish spring-inspired froth before it was too late. luckily for me, the bathroom sink was still dispensing liquid gold, if only barely. accordingly my spouse, ever the quick thinker, began filling a miniature plastic drinking cup with H2O. then she handed me the half-full container which i hurriedly poured over the still-foamy portions of my anatomy. but the pail was essentially a tiny goblet while the target was a lanky ectomorph. so it was gonna take more than a few rounds of fill up and rinse before this boy was free of aloe vera. it was a classic race against time. but just as the ladies' room sink dripped to a halt, i finally managed to rid myself of the last traces of greenish-blue bubbles coating my exterior. the battle had been waged. victory was mine. it was time to towel off.
"when things go wrong don't go with them.” - elvis presley
ok, so it's not exactly tuesday
when i first stepped into the decidedly more sanitary ladies' bathtub and turned the handle, the water pressure certainly seemed decent enough. not strong, not even steady, but adequate for the job at hand. i did notice, however, that the temperature was a little cool for my tastes but hey, i was merely a guest in another's facilities. that and the fact that i never, ever look a gift horse in the mouth.
so in i jumped in order to initiate my daily routine of lather, rinse and repeat. but about three minutes into the procedure, i couldn't help but notice the water pressure beginning to wane. at the same time, the water temperature was moving from cool to icy in a hurry. unfortunately for yours truly, i was right in the middle of a lather cycle. in other words, i was still covered in soapsuds from head to toe just as the well had begun to run dry. in a panic (lather?) i immediately summoned my wife to the bathroom in order to enlist her services as a makeshift personal assistant. naturally i was desperate to rid my frame of irish spring-inspired froth before it was too late. luckily for me, the bathroom sink was still dispensing liquid gold, if only barely. accordingly my spouse, ever the quick thinker, began filling a miniature plastic drinking cup with H2O. then she handed me the half-full container which i hurriedly poured over the still-foamy portions of my anatomy. but the pail was essentially a tiny goblet while the target was a lanky ectomorph. so it was gonna take more than a few rounds of fill up and rinse before this boy was free of aloe vera. it was a classic race against time. but just as the ladies' room sink dripped to a halt, i finally managed to rid myself of the last traces of greenish-blue bubbles coating my exterior. the battle had been waged. victory was mine. it was time to towel off.
"when things go wrong don't go with them.” - elvis presley
ok, so it's not exactly tuesday
look at me
so i'm sitting here at my computer listening to some post-ccr john fogerty and i'm fighting my latest bout of insomnia knowing full well that i genuinely need my beauty sleep but it just ain't gonna happen tonight and now i hear some yelping coming from the street just below my open window but i don't have to look outside to recognize the sounds of the local yahoos causin' a ruckus cuz i'm too tired to care and besides i'm listening to my favourite post-ccr john fogerty number and just now i checked my inbox and realized that i may have to spend the next hour or so composing an appropriate response but meanwhile the yahoos on the street remind me of those idiots in their souped-up civics with their stereos blasting techno at full volume and maybe also those loudmouths on the subway who speak at decibel levels that can only be described as exorbitant when it is so obvious that they merely wish to be overheard by their unsuspecting fellow travellers and in the end i reckon it is indeed true that volume and intelligence tend to be inversely related.
whew.
whew.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
backhand
it was the day after my introduction of the valedictorian at my school's commencement ceremonies. personally i thought i had done a fairly decent job the night before pointing out some of the chosen one's finer qualities. in my estimation the speech had gone pretty much as well as could have been expected, especially given that it had been delivered in sweltering conditions at the end of a more than two-hour extravaganza of self-congratulatory hysteria. that said, i was still a little dubious when one of my students with whom i ordinarily have very little contact stopped me in the hallway and proceeded to comment on my performance from the previous evening.
she opened the exchange with a perfunctory "good job, last night."
i responded with my patented half-smile, half-smirk. i couldn't think of anything else to say.
"you know what i really liked about your speech though," she continued. "the fact that you sounded so clear and articulate. i mean, to be honest i've never really heard you speak like that before. at one point, i even turned to (another student) and asked her if that was really you up there on stage. quite frankly, i had no idea you could speak so eloquently, sir."
huh?
"i can live for two months on a good compliment." - mark twain
from the five boroughs
she opened the exchange with a perfunctory "good job, last night."
i responded with my patented half-smile, half-smirk. i couldn't think of anything else to say.
"you know what i really liked about your speech though," she continued. "the fact that you sounded so clear and articulate. i mean, to be honest i've never really heard you speak like that before. at one point, i even turned to (another student) and asked her if that was really you up there on stage. quite frankly, i had no idea you could speak so eloquently, sir."
huh?
"i can live for two months on a good compliment." - mark twain
from the five boroughs
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
funny you should say that
"the right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.” - mark twain
so a kid i know pointed out an anomaly of the english language to me the other day. how sometimes words placed consecutively one after the other can possess one meaning but often take on an entirely unique meaning when those same words are treated as individual terms. the example she offered up was the phrase "awfully nice" which obviously holds one connotation when the terms are considered in tandem but suggests something much different when the terms are considered separate and apart.
which got me to thinking about all sorts of other odd little idiosyncrasies found within my native tongue. words and expressions and pronunciations that give me pause for thought. that make me wonder how they ever ended up as part of my local dialect in the first place.
like the never-ending debate surrounding the use of the queries "may i" and "can i" which seems to torment school-age children everywhere, especially those seeking the nod from their teachers before paying a visit to the nearest facilities.
or the fact that consonant pairs like "gh" can possess one sound at the beginning of a word ("ghost") but two entirely different sounds at the end of a word ("rough" and "though").
or the utter reliance of some folks on so-called cheat words like "um" and "uh" and "like" and "you know." words that express absolutely no meaning whatsoever and yet seem to persist as an almost indispensable component of our everyday discourse.
why, it's enough to make a linguistics ph.d. candidate cringe.
way to work that jumpsuit, jean-marc
so a kid i know pointed out an anomaly of the english language to me the other day. how sometimes words placed consecutively one after the other can possess one meaning but often take on an entirely unique meaning when those same words are treated as individual terms. the example she offered up was the phrase "awfully nice" which obviously holds one connotation when the terms are considered in tandem but suggests something much different when the terms are considered separate and apart.
which got me to thinking about all sorts of other odd little idiosyncrasies found within my native tongue. words and expressions and pronunciations that give me pause for thought. that make me wonder how they ever ended up as part of my local dialect in the first place.
like the never-ending debate surrounding the use of the queries "may i" and "can i" which seems to torment school-age children everywhere, especially those seeking the nod from their teachers before paying a visit to the nearest facilities.
or the fact that consonant pairs like "gh" can possess one sound at the beginning of a word ("ghost") but two entirely different sounds at the end of a word ("rough" and "though").
or the utter reliance of some folks on so-called cheat words like "um" and "uh" and "like" and "you know." words that express absolutely no meaning whatsoever and yet seem to persist as an almost indispensable component of our everyday discourse.
why, it's enough to make a linguistics ph.d. candidate cringe.
way to work that jumpsuit, jean-marc
Monday, October 11, 2010
way to roll with the punches, kid
sometimes i wonder if my two-year-old actually understands what she is trying to say some of the time. 'cause for the most part, no one else does. except, of course, for her immediate family - myself and her mother and sister. that became obvious this afternoon at my brother's home as two engaged in one conversation after another with various members of her extended family.
at one point, my sister-in-law asked my youngest if she wanted another bagel and cream cheese (don't ask - thanksgiving tradition). two responded by mentioning that she preferred another handful of smartfood instead. now i understood the kid's reply. my wife understood the kid's reply. even my seven-year-old understood the kid's reply. but to my sister-in-law, i guess her niece seemed to indicate that yes, she wished to have another bagel and cream cheese. 'cause that's exactly what happened next. yup, my brother's better half proceeded to grab another raisin bagel from the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. then she cut it in two holding the same knife she would use to spread the cream cheese with a few seconds later. and when she eventually handed the roll-with-a-hole to my daughter, i could tell that two was a little perplexed by the sudden turn of events. after all, the kid requested some more cheese-flavoured popcorn, not another bagel and cream cheese.
but to her credit, my daughter responded with tact and graciousness, even thanking her aunt for the unwanted treat despite her obvious disappointment. an yet the unintentional slight highlighted an even more pressing concern. two is almost three now, and i am beginning to wonder if her speech difficulties will ever resolve themselves. indeed, the therapist had all but promised us that we would see noticeable improvements by this stage of her development.
of course, leave it to my mother to shed some valuable perspective on the issue. for when i whispered to her that i was becoming increasingly worried over the state of my daughter's pronunciation troubles, the woman who gave me life reminded me, yet again, that i, myself, had scarcely uttered an intelligible word before my third birthday. besides, my mother added, as long as her family understands her, my daughter has nothing to worry about.
"you know what i'd like to be? a cartoon of some kind. you know, like when they get hit in the head with a frying pan or something, and their head looks like the frying pan, with the handle and everything? then they just go 'booiing' and their head comes back to normal? wouldn't that be great?" - breaking away (1979)
at one point, my sister-in-law asked my youngest if she wanted another bagel and cream cheese (don't ask - thanksgiving tradition). two responded by mentioning that she preferred another handful of smartfood instead. now i understood the kid's reply. my wife understood the kid's reply. even my seven-year-old understood the kid's reply. but to my sister-in-law, i guess her niece seemed to indicate that yes, she wished to have another bagel and cream cheese. 'cause that's exactly what happened next. yup, my brother's better half proceeded to grab another raisin bagel from the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. then she cut it in two holding the same knife she would use to spread the cream cheese with a few seconds later. and when she eventually handed the roll-with-a-hole to my daughter, i could tell that two was a little perplexed by the sudden turn of events. after all, the kid requested some more cheese-flavoured popcorn, not another bagel and cream cheese.
but to her credit, my daughter responded with tact and graciousness, even thanking her aunt for the unwanted treat despite her obvious disappointment. an yet the unintentional slight highlighted an even more pressing concern. two is almost three now, and i am beginning to wonder if her speech difficulties will ever resolve themselves. indeed, the therapist had all but promised us that we would see noticeable improvements by this stage of her development.
of course, leave it to my mother to shed some valuable perspective on the issue. for when i whispered to her that i was becoming increasingly worried over the state of my daughter's pronunciation troubles, the woman who gave me life reminded me, yet again, that i, myself, had scarcely uttered an intelligible word before my third birthday. besides, my mother added, as long as her family understands her, my daughter has nothing to worry about.
"you know what i'd like to be? a cartoon of some kind. you know, like when they get hit in the head with a frying pan or something, and their head looks like the frying pan, with the handle and everything? then they just go 'booiing' and their head comes back to normal? wouldn't that be great?" - breaking away (1979)
Sunday, October 10, 2010
levity, please
so i'm sitting on the subway this afternoon when suddenly this elderly gentleman seated across the aisle pulls out a tiny prescription bottle. but when the old man pops open the container, it turns out there aren't any pills inside but rather a small portion of alabaster cream. medicated cream, i presume. steroid cream. probably hydroval or topicort, used to relieve redness and irritation brought on by certain skin conditions like eczema. and i should know.
anyhow, when the old man began rolling up his right pant leg, thus revealing his pasty, bony appendage, i kinda knew what was about to unfold next. the skin inflammation was centred in his knee area, so naturally that is where gramps would direct his efforts. but what i wasn't prepared for was the sheer length of time my public transit cohort would focus his energies on the process. why, he worked that joint like a professionally-trained masseur for a good twenty minutes or so before the family and i exited at union station.
but more than anything, today's subterranean surrealism reminded me of other similar incidents from my past showcasing the carefree and nonchalant habits of some of my fellow earth dwellers.
like the internationals in my summer esl classes who think nothing of dabbing their oily t-zones with medicated skin pads right in the middle of an intense lecture on the subjunctive mood.
or the overheated, hormonally-addled adolescents at school who insist on using the third floor of the building as their own personal love hotel, never missing a beat to explore one another's teeth and tonsil regions.
or the hard-hatted, construction zone warriors in my hood who seem oblivious to their environs as they repeatedly clear their throats in a sonic show of force before launching their golden loogies a dozen feet or more into the ether.
oh well. i guess i gotta share the air sometimes.
"when you look closely, people are so strange and so complicated that they're actually... beautiful." - my so-called life (1994)
short and sweet and to the point
anyhow, when the old man began rolling up his right pant leg, thus revealing his pasty, bony appendage, i kinda knew what was about to unfold next. the skin inflammation was centred in his knee area, so naturally that is where gramps would direct his efforts. but what i wasn't prepared for was the sheer length of time my public transit cohort would focus his energies on the process. why, he worked that joint like a professionally-trained masseur for a good twenty minutes or so before the family and i exited at union station.
but more than anything, today's subterranean surrealism reminded me of other similar incidents from my past showcasing the carefree and nonchalant habits of some of my fellow earth dwellers.
like the internationals in my summer esl classes who think nothing of dabbing their oily t-zones with medicated skin pads right in the middle of an intense lecture on the subjunctive mood.
or the overheated, hormonally-addled adolescents at school who insist on using the third floor of the building as their own personal love hotel, never missing a beat to explore one another's teeth and tonsil regions.
or the hard-hatted, construction zone warriors in my hood who seem oblivious to their environs as they repeatedly clear their throats in a sonic show of force before launching their golden loogies a dozen feet or more into the ether.
oh well. i guess i gotta share the air sometimes.
"when you look closely, people are so strange and so complicated that they're actually... beautiful." - my so-called life (1994)
short and sweet and to the point
Saturday, October 9, 2010
return to sender
dear son,
i hope you are having a good time at summer camp. i bet you didn't know that it has always been my dream to send one of my children to overnight camp as i never had that opportunity when i was younger. how is the food there? how cold is the lake? have you made any friends yet?
the reason i am writing is to let you know that i have been thinking about how i have been treating you recently. and more specifically, how i have been placing so much pressure on you to do well. now you know that i have always wanted what was best for you and your brother. but sometimes, in my zeal to see you excel, i lose sight of the bigger picture.
above all, i want you to be happy. i want you to do the things that you enjoy doing. and i want you to know that i will always support you in anything you choose to do with the rest of your life.
and finally, you don't have to make me happy in order to make me proud of you.
sincerely,
i hope you are having a good time at summer camp. i bet you didn't know that it has always been my dream to send one of my children to overnight camp as i never had that opportunity when i was younger. how is the food there? how cold is the lake? have you made any friends yet?
the reason i am writing is to let you know that i have been thinking about how i have been treating you recently. and more specifically, how i have been placing so much pressure on you to do well. now you know that i have always wanted what was best for you and your brother. but sometimes, in my zeal to see you excel, i lose sight of the bigger picture.
above all, i want you to be happy. i want you to do the things that you enjoy doing. and i want you to know that i will always support you in anything you choose to do with the rest of your life.
and finally, you don't have to make me happy in order to make me proud of you.
sincerely,
Friday, October 8, 2010
wait 'til next year
when i was a teenager, i always found it incredibly difficult to achieve success. meanwhile, time and time again my best friend, a.s., seemed to stumble upon success without even breaking a sweat. i recall the time we both applied for a waitering gig at the brand new olive garden near yonge and eg. i spent hours and hours preparing for my interview - my wardrobe, my resume, my answers, the whole works. a.s., on the other hand, was merely tagging along for the ride. he didn't dress up, he didn't bring a cv, and he certainly didn't rehearse his answers for days on end like i had. but in the end, he got the job, while i didn't. and damn if he wasn't the worst bloody waiter i had ever seen. but he still got the call. and i didn't.
now i distinctly recall asking myself at the time, where is the justice in that? after all, i had worked my ass off to ensure that i would place myself near the top of the hiring chain. a.s. hadn't even bothered to put on a tie that morning. in fact, as far as i can recall, he was sporting a beaver canoe cable knit sweater during his interview, the one that everyone in our hood was sporting at the time. who knows? maybe the manager of the olive garden liked his sweater or something. but i digress.
what is it about failure that makes some folks feel like the world has come to an end? maybe they haven't experienced failure often enough to understand how to deal with it. maybe they haven't experienced success often enough to place failure in its proper context.
because after 42 years of winning and losing, the one question i ask about failure is never, why failure? no, for me the question at this stage of my existence is rather, when is failure next?
the other day i received an email from a kid in one of my clubs. she had just suffered through what must have seemed to her one of the most miserable days in her young life. earlier in the day i had not-so-politely dressed her down for falling short on a task i had assigned her. later that same day she failed to win an executive position after several elections in another one of my clubs. in short, the day had not gone very well for her. quite frankly, given how her afternoon had unfolded, she had every reason to simply crawl on home and sulk. to feel sorry for herself. to give up. but instead, later that evening, i received the aforementioned email from her containing a half-dozen solid suggestions as to how best to right the ship that had somehow gone astray. an email in which she proved to both me and herself that she was not a quitter. and i must admit that i was almost moved to tears by the spirit and determination demonstrated in her letter.
not unlike the perseverance and fortitude shown by my ballteam after our heartbreaking loss on the final play of the championship match in 2009. once again, nobody would have batted an eye had we simply gone through the motions the following season. but instead we put together another solid year in 2010, going undefeated until we suffered yet another heartbreaking loss on the final play of the championship match this past season.
and so, as i am writing this, you may be asking yourself, why failure? why me? why now? and i suppose my only response to your query would be the following: because it was your turn to fail. just as it will be my turn to fail again soon. for as long as you continue striving for success, you will inevitably come up short at least some of the time.
why, even the greatest baseball players on the planet fail seven out of every ten times they step up to the plate. and speaking of the great american pastime, today's magnificent weather has reminded me of one more thing: tryouts for my ballteam lie less than six months away. and who knows? this may finally be our year.
"never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat." - f. scott fitzgerald
who the hell is working the soundboard?
now i distinctly recall asking myself at the time, where is the justice in that? after all, i had worked my ass off to ensure that i would place myself near the top of the hiring chain. a.s. hadn't even bothered to put on a tie that morning. in fact, as far as i can recall, he was sporting a beaver canoe cable knit sweater during his interview, the one that everyone in our hood was sporting at the time. who knows? maybe the manager of the olive garden liked his sweater or something. but i digress.
what is it about failure that makes some folks feel like the world has come to an end? maybe they haven't experienced failure often enough to understand how to deal with it. maybe they haven't experienced success often enough to place failure in its proper context.
because after 42 years of winning and losing, the one question i ask about failure is never, why failure? no, for me the question at this stage of my existence is rather, when is failure next?
the other day i received an email from a kid in one of my clubs. she had just suffered through what must have seemed to her one of the most miserable days in her young life. earlier in the day i had not-so-politely dressed her down for falling short on a task i had assigned her. later that same day she failed to win an executive position after several elections in another one of my clubs. in short, the day had not gone very well for her. quite frankly, given how her afternoon had unfolded, she had every reason to simply crawl on home and sulk. to feel sorry for herself. to give up. but instead, later that evening, i received the aforementioned email from her containing a half-dozen solid suggestions as to how best to right the ship that had somehow gone astray. an email in which she proved to both me and herself that she was not a quitter. and i must admit that i was almost moved to tears by the spirit and determination demonstrated in her letter.
not unlike the perseverance and fortitude shown by my ballteam after our heartbreaking loss on the final play of the championship match in 2009. once again, nobody would have batted an eye had we simply gone through the motions the following season. but instead we put together another solid year in 2010, going undefeated until we suffered yet another heartbreaking loss on the final play of the championship match this past season.
and so, as i am writing this, you may be asking yourself, why failure? why me? why now? and i suppose my only response to your query would be the following: because it was your turn to fail. just as it will be my turn to fail again soon. for as long as you continue striving for success, you will inevitably come up short at least some of the time.
why, even the greatest baseball players on the planet fail seven out of every ten times they step up to the plate. and speaking of the great american pastime, today's magnificent weather has reminded me of one more thing: tryouts for my ballteam lie less than six months away. and who knows? this may finally be our year.
"never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat." - f. scott fitzgerald
who the hell is working the soundboard?
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
passages
the kitten had left behind assorted patches of fur throughout the brand new residence. grey hair was scattered across the carpets and rugs of the majority of rooms within the vast, empty home. the boy had repeatedly asked his father not to bring the animal home, but the old man paid no heed to his son's requests. "i'm allergic. i'm violently allergic to cats. and you know that," the boy pleaded to his father, but to no avail.
the kitten, an american shorthair, was certainly friendly enough. in fact, the feline was very affectionate, at least as far as the species is concerned. but that didn't matter. the boy had always been allergic to the majestic creatures for as far back as he could remember. and even though he still preferred cats to dogs and would never turn away a stray tabby in the streets, the reality was that the symptoms the boy suffered in the presence of the animals were just too pronounced to overlook. red, watery eyes. coughing and wheezing. sore throat. itchy skin. and most significantly, breathing difficulties. severe breathing difficulties. so much so that the boy was often left with no choice but to exit the home for a few hours whenever his symptoms began to flare up as a result of the new house guest.
the boy and his father had obviously been having their difficulties of late. they had not spoken in months, and not enjoyed a close relationship in years. resentment had been building, on both sides of the ledger, for quite some time. the old man, stung by years of silence and rejection, had finally had enough, it appeared. and certainly the boy was not blameless in this ongoing battle of the wills. for he had made little effort to mend the fences that had long been broken between he and his father. but left to his own devices, and feeling abandoned once his brother and mother had departed for greener pastures, the boy now felt defenceless. and so, in his mind, the presence of the cat in the home represented the last straw. the years of conflict and tension were finally coming to a head. and today was the day that both sides had once and for all elected to lay all of their cards on the table.
"why would you bring that animal into this home? you know that i can't be in the same environment as that cat. you, of all people, should understand that."
"you can hide in your room then. like you always do."
"i can't spend the rest of my life in my room."
"the cat is staying. my mind is made up."
"so i guess i'll have to leave home then."
"i would rather you go than the cat."
and with that, the boy had moved on.
"you don't raise heroes, you raise sons. and if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes." - walter m. schirra, sr.
the kitten, an american shorthair, was certainly friendly enough. in fact, the feline was very affectionate, at least as far as the species is concerned. but that didn't matter. the boy had always been allergic to the majestic creatures for as far back as he could remember. and even though he still preferred cats to dogs and would never turn away a stray tabby in the streets, the reality was that the symptoms the boy suffered in the presence of the animals were just too pronounced to overlook. red, watery eyes. coughing and wheezing. sore throat. itchy skin. and most significantly, breathing difficulties. severe breathing difficulties. so much so that the boy was often left with no choice but to exit the home for a few hours whenever his symptoms began to flare up as a result of the new house guest.
the boy and his father had obviously been having their difficulties of late. they had not spoken in months, and not enjoyed a close relationship in years. resentment had been building, on both sides of the ledger, for quite some time. the old man, stung by years of silence and rejection, had finally had enough, it appeared. and certainly the boy was not blameless in this ongoing battle of the wills. for he had made little effort to mend the fences that had long been broken between he and his father. but left to his own devices, and feeling abandoned once his brother and mother had departed for greener pastures, the boy now felt defenceless. and so, in his mind, the presence of the cat in the home represented the last straw. the years of conflict and tension were finally coming to a head. and today was the day that both sides had once and for all elected to lay all of their cards on the table.
"why would you bring that animal into this home? you know that i can't be in the same environment as that cat. you, of all people, should understand that."
"you can hide in your room then. like you always do."
"i can't spend the rest of my life in my room."
"the cat is staying. my mind is made up."
"so i guess i'll have to leave home then."
"i would rather you go than the cat."
and with that, the boy had moved on.
"you don't raise heroes, you raise sons. and if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes." - walter m. schirra, sr.
next
four days and counting. writer's block. can't seem to shake it. the ideas are there but not the words. fumbling for just the right thing to say. feeble efforts are my only resort at this point. giving it a shot at this late hour. nothing else to lose. hopefully it's like riding a bike. when i was six or so, a cousin tried to teach me to swim. ended up throwing me in the water. didn't have the desired effect though. never quite forgave him for that episode. hopefully this will be different. can't help but feel self-conscious at this stage. writing for the sake of writing. no rhyme, no reason. stream of consciousness ain't my thing. editing comes second nature to me. this runs counter to my instincts. the night's inspiration becomes the morning's regret. better to shield my eyes from the light of day. every so often, something i hear or see reminds me of fifteen. of thornhill. of the mall. the walk home. the tunnel. the graffiti. the echoes.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)