Browse Category: Stories

As Graceful as a Gorilla

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

So, yesterday I got slapped up side the head by a migraine. I suspected one would be coming any day now. I’ve been pushing myself and not getting much rest lately. So I wasn’t surprised when this one came along just after 1 in the afternoon, just after lunch and just before I spit in the face of the girl who sits next to me at work.

What?

What happened was this…

I got a typical migraine that started off with blind spots. No big deal. It’s only half of my field of vision that gets wiped out. I stood up to get my migraine medicine out of my drawer. Big old pretty green and white capsules. The girl who sits next to me at work happened to be standing up in her cube, looked at me over the wall and said, “Man! You look bad!” I said that I just got a migraine, popped a capsule in my mouth and took a big mouthful of Arizona peach iced tea. I second later, while still looking at the girl who sits next to me at work just a few feet away from me, I gagged on the pill and sprayed her in the face with the iced tea. Oops! The look on her face was classic! But I felt like a moron! I couldn’t apologize enough for the rest of the day and all day today.

So now I am the target of tasteless spit remarks at work.

“Hey! You’re the spitting image of…”

“If you don’t do as I, the team leader, say, I’ll spit in your eye.”

“Maybe we need to build the walls of his cube higher or put a plexiglass spit shield all the way around the top of his cube.”

Ha ha. Very funny. No one seems to care that once I nearly died in the office while choking on one of my migraine pills. Go read about it here.

* * * * *
We had a department Christmas party at a nearby firehouse yesterday afternoon. It was a good time. The food was great. The wine was great. The desserts were great. The wine was great. The dancing was great. The wine was great. The dancing got even better because the wine was great.

I was feeling pretty wiped out by the time I got to the party. The girl who sits next to me at work and I had to park about five towns away by the time we got there. Well, it felt like that far away when we walked through the cold air. But we figured that was our punishment for not running at lunch lately. It was good to hang out and talk with some people. Eventually, after the proper amount of wine, I did get out on the dance floor for a little bit. But I was about as graceful as a gorilla with two wooden legs and faulty equilibrium. It was fun to be out there with some of the crazies and to have a certain fine young lady dance around me. “I’m just gonna stand here and look sexy while you dance around me, baby.” Right on.

* * * * *
It is a well known maxim of the ages…

“One’s perception of his own sexiness increases in exponential proportion to one’s intake of alcohol.”

The same can be said of a man’s perception of the women around him invariably in nearly every social setting known to science.

* * * * *
It is another well known maxim of the ages…

“With increased intake of alcohol many ideas suddenly make complete sense.”

However, writing and sending an email to a girl after imbibing wine in a profuse and lengthy fashion may not be the best of ideas. Even if your intentions were sincere and free of all creepiness, she may yet be “freaked out” by the event. (And no, it won’t be due to your slurred typing alone.)

But I wouldn’t know by experience myself…

Posted at 9:00 PM (EST)

Was That About God?

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

Sometimes, when I write an article like this or like this, people want to know who it is about. For people who know me a little more personally, there may be enough clues in the article to cause them to think that they know who it is about. I admit that I do it on purpose to make people wonder. Very rarely do I tell very many people who these articles are about. Once I had an ex-girlfriend email me and ask who an article was about. (One day I’ll have to write an article about ex-girlfriends getting all weird when reading my stuff. Maybe I will even write about one who used a different email address and had me fooled for a short time.)

Well, today someone called me and asked about my recent entry “Sometimes, When It Snows.”

Before I go on, let me say that if you have not read that entry, go read it now before you read the rest of this passage. If you read the rest of this, it might spoil the entry for you. So go on! Scoot on over there and read. I’ll be right here waiting…

So, this friend calls me on the phone at work this afternoon and says, “Hey! That article you wrote about missing someone when it snows… Was that about God?”

Oh man! I nearly choked from laughing so hard! Check out some of the lines from the article and just imagine me saying these things to or about GOD…

“You held my arm so that you would not fall on the steps, then waited for me to open the door for you.” – What? Is God a shriveled up little old lady now?

“Not knowing where to begin or which important thing would mean the most to you, I asked if you were warm enough and comfortable. Maybe that meant the most to you after all.” – Yup! That is exactly what God is waiting to hear from all of us. Forgot about, “Praise You, Lord, for you are so awesome and holy!” Nevermind, “Father, I thank You for all of Your many blessings.” Don’t even bother praying, “Lord, lead us not into temptation.” Just ask Him if He is warm and comfortable.

“I remember periods of time when it was difficult for you to smile and days when you didn’t smile at all. For a time, it was my mission to make you smile.” – Poor God! So sad! If it wasn’t for me, He wouldn’t have smiled at all.

“I guess it was that foolish assumption that you would always be there that left me wide open to the harsh certainty of reality… Even you, you who made it feel like the world had stopped and I could rest for ever when you were near, have gone. Is life designed for love or for sorrow primarily?” – You know… sadly… I think some people really do say such things about God. Or maybe they don’t actually say them, but they feel them. They feel abandoned and alone. Facing the stark, cold realities of life… just like being stranded out there in the snow. Well, I understand that too. I know what that feels like.

But none of these lines were written to God. They were simply written to another person who I was close to for some time. I am disappointed that this person didn’t stay in touch like I thought they would. I feel somewhat hurt. I still miss her.

Posted at 11:45 PM (EST)

SOMETIMES, WHEN IT SNOWS

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

(for a friend who is missed)

SOMETIMES, when it snows, I miss you.

The last time that I saw you, it snowed. Remember? You waited at the door while I ran through the slippery parking lot to get the car. I knew it would be warm for you if I let it run while I cleared off the windows. You held my arm so that you would not fall on the steps, then waited for me to open the door for you, as I always did gladly.

As I drove you to your destination just a few miles away, so many things that I wanted to say raced through my mind. I knew you were going away. Not knowing where to begin or which important thing would mean the most to you, I asked if you were warm enough and comfortable. Maybe that meant the most to you after all. You knew me well enough to know the things I wanted to say.

We said a lot to each other during those days, those days that we thought would never end. Remember? Was there anything we did not feel comfortable telling each other? I know, I did most of the talking half of the time. Thank you for never minding and for never asking me to be quiet. Maybe it needed to be that way so that you would not forget me when you left.

Your smile always made my day. I remember periods of time when it was difficult for you to smile and days when you didn’t smile at all. For a time, it was my mission to make you smile. I was happy when those days passed and smiles and laughter marked our times. Even if I live to be 120, I hope I never lose the memory of your smiling face.

I would travel to wherever you are right now just to see you smile, and to ask why you did not stay in touch. You called a few times. Mostly, it was I calling you though. When you left you said we would always be close despite the miles. You told me you never wanted to lose that closeness. I don’t understand.

It was hard to say good-bye. It felt normal to have you in my life. I guess it was that foolish assumption that you would always be there that left me wide open to the harsh certainty of reality. The fact is that things change. People live. People die. They arrive. They leave. To be comfortable and feel that we can finally settle down and unpack is the folly of our existence. Even you, you who made it feel like the world had stopped and I could rest forever when you were near, have gone. Is life designed for love or for sorrow primarily? Once I thought I knew.

Truth be told, I miss you nearly every day. The snowy days only make that feeling more intense. Most likely, you will never read these words. But I had to tell someone that I miss you.

(For a follow-up to this article, read THIS ARTICLE.)

NO MATTER WHAT… COME IN RUNNING

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

I STARTED running again.

Go ahead. Get all the Forrest Gump jokes out of your system right now.

I’ll wait…

This is the hundredth-millionth time I’ve started running. I run for a period of time and then quit, for one reason or another. Maybe the reason has been lack of time. Maybe it has been an injury. Once I hurt both of my knees so badly that I could hardly walk for almost two weeks. Another time I got sharp shooting pains up the back of my head every time I ran. I know. They are not very good reasons for not continuing to run, or at least continuing to exercise in one manner or another. They are excuses. I have no great expectations of Olympic style success this time either. What I do have is a desire to enjoy running and lose some weight in the process.

WEIGHT LOSS is definitely a necessity at this point. Right now I tip the scale at a gargantuan 220 pounds. “Tip” the scale? It’s more like “buckle” the poor thing. I look fat. I feel fat. (“Do these jeans make my butt look big?”) Some physical activities are getting rather strenuous. Such as climbing a few flights of stairs from the parking garage to my cubicle at work. I went to speak to someone as soon as I got into the office this morning and she asked, “Are you okay? Why are you so out of breath?” Because I’m a big greasy lard-belly.

In some manner of fairness to myself, the truth is that I do not look tremendously bad. Being over six feet tall, there is more area for the lard to cover, giving the impression that I cannot possibly weigh 220 pounds. But the scale does not lie! (It doesn’t do anything after I got on it two days ago.)

BESIDES, the main issue is that I want to feel better. Better about my appearance and better about my physical stamina and abilities. I want to be able to get to my cube in the morning and be breathing at a level that allows me to say, “Hi,” to someone without it sounding like a wheeze. I want to regain the physical endurance that I had before, especially now that I am playing drums in a band again. (I know, I haven’t written about that yet. It may be news to some readers.) What does the average drummer look like? Skinny and tattooed, right? Sure, I’d like to feel comfortable enough about my looks to play with my shirt off and not have people wonder if that is the Michelin Man on drums. More importantly, I would like to build up the strength to play and play and play. This applies to other physical activities that I enjoy.

SO, why did I choose one of the coldest days of the year, below freezing, to start running again?

I’m glad you asked.

The girl who sits next to me at work runs nearly every day at lunchtime. She has often encouraged me to start running again. I always used one of my “reasons” why I couldn’t. After enough guilt from seeing her run consistently, and enough disgust at my own apathy in the matter, I told her I was going to start again. She recently had foot surgery. So, I told her that when her doctor tells her she can run again, I will start then. On Tuesday she said, “That’s it! Tomorrow is the day!”

I was ready. I even bought new sweatpants for the occasion. I was psyched!

She didn’t run. “Oh, I forgot my running clothes at home.”

Uh-huh.

I ran anyway.

RUNNING is 99% psychological and only 1% physical. It is a battle for mastery over your own mind and will. Both positive and negative thoughts enter your mind while you are running.

While I was running, my thoughts were all over. At first I felt so motivated to be running again. I was ready to conquer the world. A half mile down the road and I hated myself and wished a truck would come by and run me over. I imagined people saying things like, “Excuse me. What is that swooshie looking logo on your pullover jacket just above your jiggly belly? Is that a tusk icon for your clan, The Royal Order of the Pale Walrus?” Or someone else muttering, “Gee… Now I know where the inspiration came from for those song lyrics, ‘I feel the earth move under my feet.’”

My goal was to run two miles: one mile to the end of the road by the old grist mill and one mile back. In spite of the nonsense going on in my head, I made it to the mill and felt great at that point. On the return mile I was faced with some uphill sections. I was doing my best to play the psychological game with myself to keep going. About halfway back, for some mysterious reason, I stopped running and walked all of a sudden. My brain was saying, “You can do it! You can make it!” My legs were saying, “Stick it in your ear!” I walked about 20 yards and started running again. I was within a few hundred yards of our office building when I stopped again, walked another 20 yards.

At that point, my brain said to my legs, “Look… At least come in running. Don’t walk us in plain view of the building, especially on this side where all those people in the cafeteria will see us. Please don’t make us look like a chubby old quitter now. No matter what… come in running.”

I ran the rest of the way like a champ! Down the road and into the parking garage right beneath the big cafeteria windows. (Is that the theme song from “Rocky” playing in the background?) I did it! In the last section of the run, my focus was on the words, “come in running.” I said it to myself with each step. It worked. I won a small victory in the psychological game. The first run was complete. I was satisfied because I came in running. That is what runners do.

THE SECRET IS IN THE SEUSS

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

The elephant laughed.
“Why, of all silly things!
I haven’t feathers and I haven’t wings.
ME on your egg? Why, that doesn’t make sense…
Your egg is so small, ma’am, and I’m so immense!”

HOW TIME FLIES when you are having fun! It took forever for Tuesday and H and M to arrive. Now it is already the day after they left and I am sitting here writing about it. It is already a memory. It’s a good memory. We had a good time. We did some special things that will anchor the memory of this Thanksgiving holiday into our minds.

For H and M, there is always the excitement of seeing their older sister. They spend most of their time here with her. The poor girl can hardly go to the bathroom without the two little ones following her. She takes care of them like a pro and has the utmost patience with them.

I am happy that the bond of love between us has remained strong. When families are separated it is easy for their members to drift apart in their emotions. Hell, even families that live under the same roof are often living in separate and distant universes. Right from the start in our ordeal of family disintegration, I determined that the bond between all of my children would be strong. All the long miles of driving, the phone calls, the piling into the little car together, the making due with what we had, the equality of treatment between all of us, has paid off. S is the big sister who is greeted by the overwhelming love and desire of two younger sisters. T and J are the older brothers who are the coolest brothers anyone could have. I have the privilege of being the man of whom a seven-year-old can say, “You are the best daddy that I ever had!”

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But at that very instant, the egg burst apart!
And out of the pieces of red and white shell,
From the egg that he’d sat on so long and so well,
Horton the elephant saw something whizz!
IT HAD EARS
AND A TAIL
AND A TRUNK JUST LIKE HIS!

ANOTHER THING the girls look forward to when they come to visit is seeing two other girls that live on our street. The four of them became such good friends over the summer. The original plan was to let the girls play together the day after H and M arrived. But the bonds of friendship are too strong to be patient after enduring separation for four months. Soon there was a knock at the door and the four months were gone as a dream. Such as friendship should be: do not wait when you know your friend is close at hand. Knock!

Do not be as casual as a slug!
Knock on the door, give your friend a hug!
Life is too short for you to ever waste,
Embrace your friend, put a smile on his face!

THANKSGIVING DAY was nice here, weather and company. I took some photos in the morning while the sky was clear and the sun was low enough to produce great colors and contrasting shadows. My brother and sisters came over for dinner. There were nieces and nephews, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers. The food was outstanding. The wine was nice. It was a good day.

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On the fifteenth of May, in the Jungle of Nool,
In the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool,
From the egg that he’d sat on so long and so well,
He was splashing… enjoying the jungle’s great joys…
When Horton the elephant heard a small noise.

A HIGHLIGHT of the girls’ visit was the time we spent reading Dr. Seuss stories. We read “Horton Hatches the Egg” and “Horton Hears a Who.” Of course, Snyders don’t simply read Dr. Seuss. They make up all the voices too! You have to have character to read a Seuss story out loud! You have to become characters. You must feel their passion, their distress, their joy! You must become one with the Seuss! Use the Seuss, Luke! (Huh?) All the little Whos listen up that way. They pay attention. They follow along and learn to read better.

They snuggle and wuggle and cuddle up tight.
They laugh and they giggle. It’s the bestest of sights!

NOT ONLY did we read Seuss, we saw Seuss. “The Cat in the Hat” movie that is. The day after Thanksgiving Day, the girls begged me to go see it. I was very hesitant to see it. There are certain things that you do not do to a Dr. Seuss story. One of them is Jim Carey. The other is Mike Myers.

Oh dear! Oh Dear! I have bad news!
Look what they’ve done to Dr. Seuss!
First, they stole the dear old Grinch!
Now with the Cat they’ve made me cringe!

However, the kids liked the movie. I just liked being with them.

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Well, Thanksgiving came and went. The girls were here. The girls are gone. We have to adjust to being apart again.

But Christmas is coming. The girls will be back. At the top of our list of things to do at that time is: Read “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” by none other than Dr. Seuss.

But the sound wasn’t sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn’t be so!
But it was merry! VERY!
He stared down at Who-ville!
The Grinch popped his eyes!
Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Who down in Who-ville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any presents at all!
He HADN’T stopped Christmas from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!

The girls will be back. The bond will be strengthened. More memories will be made. Seeing each other will be the best Christmas gift of all.