This poem / observation was jotted down in my note app as I was on my walk. I also took this picture to reinforce the idea.
One of the reasons I like to walk everyday is the mental aspect, the way my mind can drift and be inspired by the world around me. As I continued on my walk I thought about how much a home is like a tree.
On average, most people (6 out of 10) live within 100 miles of their home town. And most of them are only 30 miles away (2022 Census).
Even wind-dispersed seeds of trees travel just over a mile, but can reach 18 miles.
I thought about how my desire to create a stable home for my own family influenced aspects of my personal life, my goals. One of the biggest aspects has been coaching, specifically football. But also my writing goals. This town is not a poetic mecca by any means.
But the thing about trees is that they are beautiful in their strength and characteristics; leaf shape, color, and their bark patterns. Trees withstand the seasons by changing with the weather.
We have been in this particular house for 15 years. My three oldest children are out in the world, two are over 100 miles away while one is in town. I have three more children at home, one of them will be a senior and ready to make the decision of which college to attend.
I do not know where the wind will take my children, but they know where home is. It is a strong blue house… sitting pretty close to heaven.
I took my walk this morning, before the day got too hot, plus we have an electrician coming this afternoon.
The day was beautiful. Sun was out, the sky was clear blue, and I was on the last stretch toward home when I saw a tiger swallowtail butterfly. It was drinking from a small puddle in the street. Its black and yellow wings slowly moving. I stood right next to it. The butterfly didn’t seem to mind.
Now, I tend to take photos on my walks, usually of flowers or funny things I see on the street (even blogged about a Sonic mint I saw on a walk, “A Sonic Mint and Holden Caulfield”). So what I did next was more of a reflex. I thought it would be cool to get a close up picture of the butterfly.
The butterfly was cool with me until I bent down with my phone to try to get the close up picture. Then it took off, even seemed to buzz my head as if to say, “You ruin the moment.” As you can see I did get a shot of the butterfly before it finally went to the flowers of a nearby house.
There is so much I could address about this moment. But that would reinforce the main idea of ruining a moment.
Even in simple moments, there are a thousand ways we can ruin them, technology, over-thinking, being distracted by any number of things, wanting moments to get over so we can get to another moment… but we miss out on the depth of our lives, of emotions (whether it is positive or negative) and of understanding life and ourselves when we are not fully engaged in these unique moments.
I was enjoying watching a tiger swallowtail butterfly drink from a puddle on the street. I got distracted by wanting to take a picture and ruined it.
I know some of you are wondering, no album from Prince? Well, the wait is over. There are two rules that made this choice so difficult. One album per artist. Prince released over 40 studio albums. Because of the rule I only get to choose one. ONE!
After hours of debating with myself I got it down to two albums. Again the rules I set for myself helped. Even as a fan, there are songs I will skip on an album. Especially if I am in a particular mood, so that rule helped a lot.
Then the last rule that allowed me to finally choose the album. No soundtracks with various artists. Now, that rule eliminated some great sound tracks. But I thought the rule was fair because there are soundtracks by single artists, like The Jazz Singer by Neil Diamond, that are powerful albums.
So, that brings me to my fifth album I can’t live without… no it is not Purple Rain. It is Parade.
Everyone knows the song “Kiss” but as a whole album Parade encompasses Prince’s personality the best at that time of his life. Meaning, artists grow as people and their art reflects that. As fans I think we forget that sometimes and want them to produce the same kind of art they did when we became fans. Anyway, back to the album.
The opening track, “Christopher Tracy’s Parade,” sets a wonderful, joyful tone, while touching on some of the themes to come in the other songs / movie.
“I Wonder U” switches things up with a slowed down musical trip. In its own way, it is a cool love song.
“Under the Cherry Moon” continues with the slower vibe. Prince ponders life and love through the lyrics. The song feels like a walk at night, under a full moon.
The sixth track never fails to make me move or lift my spirits. “Life Can Be So Nice” picks up the tempo and has lyrics that hit you with their clever examples that you can’t help but sing along with.
As Prince is known to do, the next track seems to come out of nowhere. It makes you stop and just feel. “Venus De Milo” is a wonderful instrumental piece. It is on a number of my playlists.
“Mountains” was released as a single. It reached number 23 on the charts. It is one of my favorite songs of all time by Prince. “Mountains” delves into the idea of the power of love and how it can be a force in life.
And maybe the saddest song ever, “Sometimes It Snows in April.” Of course it connects to the story line of the movie, but listeners can easily follow the plot line and get lost in the theme of the song. The song touches on our shared hurt and questioning of why bad things happen, especially when we lose someone we love.
So, here are my 5 albums I can’t live without… or is it????
I took my daily walk pretty early this morning. The air still held the smell and coolness of the rain storm last night. The streets in my neighborhood were empty except for a lawn care crew I would pass later in my walk.
As it happens on my walks I started to think about things, I was running through the appointments I needed to make on Monday. I then thought I should see when my dad was free this summer so I could coordinate a visit. That took me to thoughts of my mom (who passed away June 9, 2023). I happened to look at the house on my left. There was a wood door hanger with a summer design. I smiled as I thought my mom would have liked the front door.
In the past, when my parents would visit us, we would always take a walk together. They would comment on the front doors (and the trees, but that is for another post). My parents enjoyed looking at the designs and decorations of front doors. My mom especially liked front doors that were bold in color.
So, in her honor I paid attention to the front doors on my walk. There were doors with cool etched glass, front doors with no sidelights, one sidelight, and matching sidelights. There was a house with a lime green front door. My mom would have liked that. Other doors had summer wreaths, or had accent decorations like wooden planks with ‘Welcome’ painted on it leaning against the wall. We have a flower wooden hanger, even.
There were no two doors alike in my neighborhood. Paying attention to the doors was fun, and brought back memories of my parents. Of the walks we would take after Thanksgiving dinners, or the first time they visited a new home when we moved.
But what of a front door?
My wife has a wooden hanger for each season that we place on our front door (and take off during storms because it knocks against the door). Our front doors are a small message to the world about who we are. If we are welcoming, if we are simple or grand in our approach. Bold colors, glass etchings, other accent decorations reveal at least a little something about our home, about us to the world outside.
This morning, I paid attention to the front doors of my neighbors, and I think, understood my parents a little more. Of course looking back it is easier to see things, but they were always welcoming to people, and one of them was me. I know I was blessed to have them open their front door to a lost and troubled 16 year-old.
I would grab a cup of coffee or tea, this blog post is going to take a little time and try to connect some interesting dots… no, go ahead, I’ll wait…
OK, so the dots I am going to connect range from poetry, real life fact, and AI / technology.
First, Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall”. This is one of his most ironic poems. The depth of what is written and what is meant, or at least what a reader might even believe, is extraordinary. And that ambiguity hits the reader in classic Frost style with the ending.
If you’ve never read the poem, follow the link before reading further… really, I’ll wait.
I could (and maybe I should) write an analysis post about this poem, but I want to get to the heart of this dot I want to connect to other moments and the theme of this post. The plot of the poem is simple: Robert Frost and his neighbor meet to repair the stone fence that separates their land. This is a yearly event. One of the major themes is emphasized at the end of the poem, “He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’”
Dot two: My neighbor is building a fence.
Back to the poem and what the line “Good fences make good neighbors” might mean. The word choice is important, ‘Good fences’ and ‘good neighbors’. An important point to remember is that they are working together to mend the stone fence (also described as a wall in the poem). It is important because it highlights the balance of them living their separate lives, yet maintaining a neighborly relationship. In fact in the poem it states that Robert Frost contacts his neighbor about the day to repair the wall.
It is clear from reading the poem that they are not friends, but they are respectful, even if Robert Frost fails at getting to a deeper conversation with his neighbor. (I understand that, “Let’s Not Talk about the Weather.”) They are at least ‘good neighbors’.
Back to dot two. Our neighbors have been in the house less than a year. Most of our backyards meet. The fence will separate their yard from ours. I have never spoken to them. We have acknowledged each other while mowing or out gardening with a smile or a head nod. I do not know why they are building the fence.
Is it a good fence? Not sure.
I do recognize that I am not a good neighbor in the classical sense.
Which brings us to dot three.
Technology / AI and its effect on the idea of a good neighbor.
Part of the draw of technology, of social media, of even AI, is that it was supposed to break down the physical and personal walls of our lives. We could find community anywhere in the world. We could share ideas, our art, our hobbies, share ourselves to the world. And it can do that. I have people on X (the app formally known as Twitter) that would be good friends in real life. But I’ve never met them in person.
The ironic aspect is that the idea was no barriers, no walls, no fences… but that is not how the internet works. We have different fences, and I’m not sure they are ‘good’. We can live behind fictional handles / accounts. Now with AI, we can automate our very existence. Let it write or respond to email, let AI post on Instagram as us, or to a fictional account we create.
Sadly we are fencing ourselves in by not being ourselves, by letting ChatGPT think for us, by removing any of the work it takes to discover our talents. Even what we are not good at is an important step in becoming who we are. Technology is not a good fence. Being a good neighbor is about understanding who we are through our successes and struggles. Learning what is valuable to our souls. To understand that our neighbors are people who are trying their best to live their lives.
I do wonder why my neighbor is building a fence. Robert Frost’s poem delves into deeper themes (that I might just write more about) of this life. And I am using technology now with this blog post, but my goal is be a good neighbor for you reader, as you work on living on your side of this fence.
On Aug 17, 2025, I got a new pair of shoes for walking.
I had an idea to wear them only for walking and to record my steps after each walk. I was going to try to make it a year, but due to different circumstances, I made it to the end of this month, 8 months total.
I walked a total of 549051 steps… 245 miles.
We all know the idiom, “Walk a mile in their / my shoes” as a reference to understanding someone. I took notes sometimes after a walk. During these last 8 months, I had a colleague lose two of their grandchildren in a car accident. My oldest son got married. I walked on Halloween but didn’t get to walk with my youngest daughter on her last trick-or-treat trip, she was at a friend’s house.
I walked through hundreds of grasshoppers in August. I walked in the school on nights when my daughter had musical practice. I walked on a 65 degree day in February. I took notes for poems, some that are still notes. I walked on Christmas day, reflecting on family and how time was moving so fast.
The miles simply represent my life, as they would for you.
As I totaled the steps, I noticed something interesting. No matter what the day, or the route I took (I have a couple of routes I walk in the neighborhood), no day ever had the same number of steps. Ever.
So no matter how many times I took my ‘medium route’ in the neighborhood, the step count was different.
I understand there are a number of reasons for the differences, but that proves the point that even in the routine of our life, each day is different. Has a different step count because of the smallest changes to how we walked through the day. How we lived that day.
Maybe to understand ourselves better we should pay attention to how we walk in our own shoes.
And so my idea for this blog post comes to an end as I transfer the shoes to work shoes.
Let’s see if I can express myself well in this blog post. I know as I sit down to write this that I will be challenged in my ability to express this abstract experience with this page and the words I choose to express myself with.
Let’s start with the idea of connecting dots. Faithful readers know I use this idea a lot. But it helps make connections to ideas or moments, even when they seem random.
Dot One
Did you notice?
Did you notice I was not there on social media, especially X? It is OK if you didn’t. I’m not sure anyone really did. My screen time is averaging 2 hours and 50 minutes a day for the last couple of weeks (at the end of this week it should be about 2 hours and 40 minutes).
At the moment, X is my 8th used app. It is even behind my Clock app. I did not disappear, I reposted, shared some info, but I didn’t really engage with people or share original content. And X went on without me.
Dot Two
Why I reduced my interaction with my phone and social media.
This is one of the tricky parts I alluded to in the introduction. I was hurt because of poetry. Rejection emails, poetry battles, and the loss of community hit my spirit hard. Every creative person goes through rough spots, the last three weeks have been brutal for me, in so many different ways. Emotionally it was like standing in the middle of a downpour as a blizzard swept in while an earthquake happened.
Dot Three
What did I gain from the last two weeks?
New Poetry. Ironic isn’t it.
I also gained an appreciation for my voice, for my style. It sounds funny to say this at this stage of my writing career, but I am always reminded of something Ray Radbury said in an interview late in his career. He said it took him 10 years to finally write a short story that he felt reflected his authentic voice.
I may not be popular, but no one writes like I do.
And I will keep trying to share my work, knowing that my email folder will be filled with rejection responses because that’s what we do, we create and share with the world.
Dot Four
What I really gained from the last two weeks…
The depth and quality of our life is found in how engaged we are in our own lives.
I read the article “The Lonely Death of George Bell” from the New York Times in 2015. (It is behind a paywall now.) It haunts me to this day. The quick summary of the article is that George dies in his apartment alone, and it took weeks before anyone noticed enough to investigate. Even his drinking buddies, whom he saw only at the bar, did not do anything when he stopped showing up.
We all get 24 hours in a day. And we, for the most part, get to decide what we do with that time. I’ve talked about this idea in different blog posts for years and connected to different topics. The small shift in understanding from the last two weeks is that how we engage with that time matters.
I didn’t stop living just because I was not on X. Dadlife has been in full swing, daughters are in tennis, and my third daughter was also in the school musical. I took my walks. I wrote poetry.
Twenty-four hours can go by without us doing anything, even if we are on a screen or not. Being aware, but even more importantly, choosing what and who to engage with builds the textures of our life. Gives us the colors, the heartache, and the words to live a life we can call art.
Next year starts 2026. As we have done since 2015,each member of the family chooses one word for the next year. We each share the reason behind the word, and then design our display. This year we are using small wooden clipboards.
As you can see from the picture my word is MAGIC.
There are a number of reasons behind my choice for the word. I want to create more magical moments, which I tried to do this Christmas, actually, when Santa visited our house for everyone. There were 8 filled stockings under the tree (my six children and my new daughter-in-law and my son’s longtime girlfriend). And yes, Santa visited my wife, even if she didn’t get a stocking, she had presents under the tree.
But to have magical moments I have to be active as a father, a husband, and even as a poet. Magic doesn’t happen staring at a screen. It happens when my children laugh, my wife smiles, someone replies to a poem I wrote.
I have some really big goals this year. Accomplishing them will be magical. Jon Finch once said, “Magic is the poetry of impossibilities, each trick a stanza in the verse of wonder.” And I am a good poet.
I’m not sure what actually triggered the slight shift of my perspective. I can not pinpoint the week, the day, or the hour that I really started to consider how important it is to make sure my actions represent love.
For the last couple of months I have been conscious of what my actions are revealing about what this world is about. It is a daunting thought. My smile for a person in the grocery store will not create a viral trend. My dad joke in class only gets a few chuckles and quite a few groans. The question about Christmas gifts I ask for the barista is only for them. My insight on a poem shared on X is quick but could be so much deeper.
My actions will not change the world.
I could easily walk past the person in the cereal aisle. Get right to the lesson plan in class. Wait for my coffee silently. Just repost the poem.
The world would continue as is.
Except for the change in the moment and what the world could be like if all the moments were like the first examples. And let’s see if I can express this personal idea clearly.
In one way, Ben Rector said it well, “But now I just wanna look more like love.”
On the surface that is the idea, but the reason why is important. My actions express to everyone what the meaning of life is. But so does everyone’s actions. The person driving while busy on their phone says that the content on the screen is more important than driving safely. The fights in the stands of sporting events say that being a fan of a team is more important than being respectful of another person. There are so many examples of heartbreaking actions in this world that reveal people’s meaning of life is not love or the well being of others. Even my own parents taught me that drugs, alcohol, and other people were more important than me.
Our everyday actions reveal our meaning of life to the world. To the people around us, the people we love and the people we can’t stand. And it’s hard to not be swayed by things like money or success (which Ben Rector’s song deals with). It’s hard not to be judgmental, especially for people we don’t get along with.
But, the other day as my wife and I were having dinner at Red Lobster, a little boy across the aisle was looking at us. His mom and dad were trying to get him to eat some broccoli. His other brother was nicely eating corn and shrimp. I smiled at him. His face lit up and then he buried his head in his mom’s arm. Then he shot a look back at me. I smiled again. He smiled and then buried his face again.
I remembered when we would bring our children to Red Lobster. How my oldest daughter loved the broccoli, but my boys wanted applesauce. I smiled again at the little boy because I wanted him to know this world was filled with love.
Even though I know the little boy would learn that the world is also filled with things like hate and broken relationships, I wanted my actions to show him that this world can be a wonderful place, as I hope others would show my own children.
My actions will not change the world. But at any given moment, I can look more like love. I can show another person in that single moment that the meaning of life is love. If you put enough moments like that together, a life can be wonderful. It can be strong enough to withstand the negative waves that happen to us all.
As a birthday gift, I took my wife to the Collin Raye and Lonestar Christmas and Hits concert on Saturday. It was a fun night. Our first concert was Collin Raye at a state fair when we were dating. So, it was cool to see him again in concert after 29 years.
Collin Raye is 65 years old. His voice is the same, his personality, too. But we all grow old. Collin Raye had some fun with that truth. He shared a story about injuring his knee. He joked that he needed to catch his breath after singing “That’s My Story”.
But the energy and joy was tangible as he performed. His voice took us back in time, yet brought joy to the moment. As is my nature I thought of a few things about art, about creativity, and about life.
First was the powerful force art is. In this case music, but in my life poetry and stories and these blog posts. Overall the night was joyful and energetic, but also reflective when Collin Raye sang some of the more spiritual Christmas songs.
I hope my words have that effect on readers. To make them think, to be moved toward the emotions and reflections I try to express in my words.
Second was that AI can not match human creation and expression. Yes, I think it can help an artist reach their creative goal, but that’s the point. Art is human based. It is a reflection of our souls, or hearts, or views of this life. AI can not do that. I think we have a ways to go before we find the balance between technology and human creative importance, but I trust in the power and need for us to express the meaning of this world through our chosen art.
Lastly, this life is a moment. We get to choose the moments, the content, the meaning of it. The whole concert was a wonderful time, filled with funny moments: the keyboard player for Lonestar received a few drinks from a couple in the front row. It was a ‘had to be there’ moment. The Christmas songs reminded all of us of the upcoming holiday and what it should be about.
And seeing Collin Raye perform at age 65 without reservations was an inspiration for me.
Here is one of the songs Collin Raye performed at the first concert. This song has always stuck with me.
It is all Connected 