Tag Archives: life

June 3, 2024 · 12:27 pm

Gold Dust

I recently learned how jewelers handle the scraps and dust from the precious metals and stones they work with. How they sweep their workspace, clean their clothes, and collect as much as they can of the gold dust and diamond shards in their shops. There are a number of different ways they extract the different metals, but it is worth the effort. They can reuse some scraps, but mostly they can exchange the gold dust for money.

There is even a story of a person buying a floor mat from a jewelry workshop then made a thousand dollars by cleaning and collecting the scraps and dust from it. (Might be an urban legend. I could not verify the story, but many articles referenced the story.)

As I listened about this process (and then researched it), an idea came to mind…

Do we live our lives as if it is as valuable as gold dust?

Let’s see if I can connect these dots to highlight the importance of this question.

First, our lives are filled with big moments, like a piece of jewelry, a diamond ring, or gold necklace. We value those moments just like we value the jewelry. But what about all the small bits of our life, the small amounts of time? Time in the car, waiting for the oven to preheat, the last five minutes of class?

How valuable is that time for you? If it was gold dust you would take the time and energy to collect it, to save it. Jewelers spend a lot of energy collecting these small scraps from their work. But what do you do with yours? What do I do with mine? Do I check my phone, play some match-3 game while ignoring people around me? I have. Even with my daughters sitting next to me. So instead of talking, or having Attitude T-rex show up (dad thing… hard to explain), I waste eight minutes waiting till the oven beeps, indicating it is now 400 degrees.

Here’s the other dot, and maybe the most important aspect of my thoughts… a jeweler collects the smallest particles, saves them until there is enough to exchange the dust for money or uses the different scraps later for another piece of jewelry.

The smallest moments of our lives work the same way. What does playing a match-3 game do for me later, beside leveling up? For most of the time we spend on our phones, what do we get from it? Seriously? If we spend the small amounts of time talking, thinking, drawing, something, anything more human oriented, we build quality into our lives. We build better relationships, create depth and meaning in our lives.

What would life be like if we treated our time as if it was gold dust?

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May 30, 2024 · 3:19 pm

Meeting Death

This is an essay I wrote. It was not accepted for publication but I still wanted to share it.


“Meeting Death”

I finally met death in June of 2023. 

OK, I didn’t meet death personally, but I knew he was outside my mother’s hospital room. I could feel him standing there, like a cowboy. Leaning against the wall, one leg up, bent with his foot against the wall. Hood draped over his head, hand casually holding his scythe, just waiting.

Over the years, Death has taken some important people from my life. My grandmother when I was in high school. A beloved principal I worked with for almost a decade. Maybe the most gut wrenching was the death of a former student. She was killed by a drunk driver who had a suspended license because of seven DUIs. It was her freshman year in college.

So I knew the heartache death brings to us, but I had never met him. Until my mother was admitted to the hospital, fighting colon cancer that had taken over almost every part of her body. I rushed 500 miles to see her. A trip I knew well because I had traveled that route home since April of 2023 every couple of weeks. Yes, you counted correctly, three months.

When my wife and I arrived at the hospital, I felt the difference in the air. The hallways seemed darker on the edges. As we hugged family members in the waiting room there was a silent moment when we broke the embrace. A lingering hand on the shoulder. A simple nod. Death had removed his name from our mind, but we knew…I knew Death was there.

So did my mom. I am still haunted by the way her eyes turned back time when we said good night. I saw her as a child afraid of the dark. She gripped my sister’s hand like a child crossing the street for the first time. Of course she said she would be fine alone. But her eyes pleaded for us not to go. The hospital was quiet. Visiting hours had ended, but the nurses didn’t rush us off. My wife and I had not checked into our hotel yet. My brother had taken my dad home so he could get some rest. My sister’s family was supposed to arrive soon. The nurses would be there if she needed anything.

I was torn. And to this day I feel like I should have stayed, even though Death did not visit her that night. At the time I didn’t think he would, I didn’t feel him waiting in the hallway, and that influenced my decision to leave and get checked into our hotel.

The next morning the sun was shining bright as I walked into my mom’s room. But it only created dark shadows in the corners. I caught my breath as I thought I saw the blade of Death’s scythe catch a ray of the sun, but it was only the metal part of my mom’s IV. I spent most of the day by mom’s side. Holding her hand, talking to her when she was awake.

I am a poet. And poetry helps me understand the world. As the day turned to night, I had a refrain play in my head, “while death waits.” Which became a poem and the title of my latest collection of poetry. But at the time I was emotionally trying to keep Death in the hallway. He could lean against the wall all he wanted. I was going to be a son for as long as I could.

And Death did wait. He waited until I was back home to take my mom. Death waited until she was home.

My mom was released Sunday afternoon from the hospital. Her body had found a state of being that allowed her to go home. Hospice care was arranged, a new bed was being delivered to the house later in the week. That Wednesday she had a good report from the doctor. The chemo seemed to be working, in the sense of allowing her to have more time. Death does not believe in time.

My dad called Friday morning. I remember the sky was so blue as he shared that mom had passed away earlier that morning as he sat by her bedside. I wanted to ask if he had seen Death in the shadows, but there were too many tears between us. 

In September of 2023, my wife lost her mom. My mother-in-law was at home with her husband by her side. They live in the same town as us. That last month, my wife spent many nights with her mom and dad. I’ve never had the courage to ask my wife if she felt Death waiting in the house. 

Because I know now that Death doesn’t actually wait.

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May 11, 2024 · 8:12 pm

There are no more flowers

Yesterday I took a walk along the more residential route in my neighborhood. This route takes me by the house where the gentleman who inspired the poem “To the Old Man Gardening During a Pandemic”. Faithful readers know that his house is now owned by another family (“A Post For the Old Man and his Garden”).

I now have an answer to the question about his flowers… they are gone.

The trees still dot the backyard, but all the flowers have been replaced with grass. There is not a single flower left. 

I stood at the T junction where, in the backyard he grew a variety of flowers that ran parallel with the streets. The roses would follow you when you turned right. Then tulips. As spring turned to summer that turned to fall, new colors would appear as seasonal flowers bloomed.

Now it is a sea of green. I can appreciate the open space for the children. To run, to play catch or frisbee.  But don’t children deserve flowers, too?

But I know what reality I was truly fighting in my heart. That when we are gone, time can remove the evidence of our lives. Yes, I remember his garden… but I never knew his name. I’m sure there are neighbors who notice the change to the yard, but soon, they will forget the flowers, too.

I am sad thinking about it, but also I remember him sitting on his bucket, working the ground. Season after season. Somehow I know he was happy when he saw the colors of his garden come to life. The pride he felt everyday was expressed in the beauty of his backyard. We would always give each other a small wave hello when I walked by… maybe that is what I miss the most.

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April 29, 2024 · 9:04 pm

A Poet Travels 1550 Miles

She was maybe 5 feet 2 inches. Her hair was white and done in the classic grandmother style, short with big curls. She carried two pages, yellowed with age, with her to the front of the room. I could see that the words were written by a typewriter. I wondered how long she had been holding on to these poems. She took a breath and shared the inspiration for the first poem. With venom still in her voice she explained how her ex husband never paid child support, so as a single mom she held down three jobs. Too many nights she would be working while her young son would be sleeping. The poem was written at work as she thought about her child.

The poem used a refrain filled with dragons and castles. Her love for her child was clear. She shared her second poem about fireflies that had such a cool ending the whole room responded with a group, “Ohhhh”. As we snapped our appreciation she turned to me and smiled.

Earlier during the poetry workshop we were working on a poem, and she had written a powerful phrase, “A shadowless soul”. As she smiled I understood her line.

The open mic continued with a range of poetic styles and backstories for each poem. Stories of loss, of family pride, and even one about how hard it was to decipher a poem written down on a bar coaster.  There were tears, laughter, and for a while a sense of community. This was the power of poetry, but more importantly the day revealed the power of the human heart.

I recently finished the book Walking the Trail by Jerry Ellis. He walked the Cherokee Trail of Tears backwards to his home. Along the way he met a variety of people, some giving him objects for a burial ritual he planned when he returned home, but all shared some part of their story with him.  During the book he would share how he thought of those people, how their stories were part of his story now.  

After the three author events I have been a part of, I understand that spiritual connection. Once I shared the inspiration for my latest book of poetry, While Death Waits, many people would share their stories of loss. Tears filling their eyes and voices. A moment of remembrance, and I think of healing. For a moment our stories bonded us, gave us a chance to know we were not alone. This is the power of poetry… the strength of the human heart.

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April 16, 2024 · 8:40 pm

And Just Like That

The wind almost pushed me back as I took a step around the corner on my walk this evening. Wind gusts were close to 30 miles an hour. Other parts of my walk were nice. The clouds were a mix of puffy white dollops and angry gray streaks. I was enjoying my walk.

And just like that I was crying.

Earlier today I wrote an autobiographical poem for day 16 of the April Poem a Day challenge. It dealt with the time my biological mom moved us to Albuquerque. So, my personal history was on my mind. Then my playlist played “Walk Like a Man” by Tim McGraw (number 85 on my top 100 list).

There’s a lot to this song I connect with, but it wasn’t really about those issues.

Grief is an interesting emotion. The world suddenly shifted in color, as if a filter had been applied behind my eyes. And just like that I knew my biological father was gone. And with that realization came a wave of loss. Sadly not of him, but of what could have been. It has been four months since his passing, but everyday from here on out is a reminder that in part, our story is over. 

But I’m still here dealing with the hurt. 

And just like that the world is different… I’m not sure it is better, though.

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April 14, 2024 · 8:29 pm

My Top 5 Songs

For my regular readers you know that my best friend and I have been counting down our top 100 songs of all time. We finished last week. My best friend proposed our top 25 albums of all time, which we will start sharing in June.

 Here are my top 5 songs.

Number 5: 

“Welcome to the Boomtown” by David & David. 

A group that only produced one album.  The album is a look at the gritty truth about life. “Welcome to the Boomtown” is pretty clear about how drugs affect a town. There are two main story lines, both look at people that should be successful but drugs and money take them down. It was a song I loved as soon as I heard it, way back in high school… and it is still on lots of my playlists.

Number 4:

“I Don’t Wanna” by The Call. 

There is so much here about this song. This was an important song for me as I was trying to change everything and understand what my choice would lead to. I connected and still connect with the loneliness of feeling love. The song is complex and certain parts connect with life as I’ve grown. But at the heart is just the desire to be loved in the moment. Yet, life takes it away and you have to live without it.

Number 3:

“Alive and Kicking” by Simple Minds. 

There are some levels to this song, one level is about how love makes you feel. But there is a sad aspect with it, what if it goes away? The chorus asks those questions. The question that gets me is ‘who’s going to save you?’  I love the build up to that question (second time), the music and the lyrics. Alive and Kicking is a cool idiom to express the energy Love gives you, but also takes from you. This song lifts my spirit every time I hear it. 

Number 2:

“Up Where We Belong” by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes.

 I wanted this to be the song my wife and I danced to at our wedding reception. My sappy side is on full display in this song.  But honestly, I believe in it… in Love, real love. I don’t know how or why but that belief kept me holding on in so many different ways throughout my years. It is why I didn’t have relationships like I saw my parents have. Why I fought to make my life better. Love can change everything.

Number 1:

“I Would Die 4 U” by Prince. 

First it is a groovy song. You want to dance to it as soon as it starts. When I was young I thought it was a great love song, a little weird with the lyrics but the feeling of being in love so much you would die for them is universal and that’s why many people still see it as a love song.  But it is more spiritual than that. This is a first person perspective from Jesus. People don’t know that. If you read the lyrics as you listen you will understand the perspective.  Even with that, there is a line that gets to me personally, third verse when Prince rapid fires the “I-I-I’ really need is to know that you believe”. I guess I have always been searching for that… to know someone believes in me. 

So, they say you can learn a lot about a person by the music they listen to… this is part of who I am through by my top 5 songs.

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March 17, 2024 · 3:37 pm

Blueberry Muffins and Obedience

Today has been routine, blueberry muffins (and scrambled eggs and sausage patties) then church.

My mood was and is still a little blue after yesterday’s slam event (I Quit). But life has a way of giving me dots to connect (regular readers understand that reference). The message today was about obedience. This post is not about the sermon, it is about this life.

Obedience: noun

1 a: an act or instance of obeying

   b: the quality or state of being obedient

*from Merriam-Webster.

First topic, writing, especially poetry but also any goal someone is pursuing. We understand the work it takes to pursue any goal. The dedication, the time, and the energy it takes. Even with the talent and work ethic, success is not guaranteed. But some form of failure seems to be. I think we all understand this concept, so let’s go deeper and bring in obedience.

“The quality or state of being obedient.” How is this connected to following a dream? Might be an unpopular take but I believe that our goals and dreams are part of who we are. In all our shades of colors, we are here to live a life driven by our goals. Of course they change as we grow, as we learn, and as we fail. And yes, others have the same goals. I can’t even imagine how many people want to be a poet… but they can’t write my poems.

Being obedient to a dream is to be true to ourselves.  To give our life the authority of creating our everydayness. Yesterday (and still a little today), I felt like giving up on poetry, on writing. But I actually have a rough draft of a poem already on paper…

Poetry is not something I do

It is who I am

Do you not understand?

I understand, too well, that following a goal is not so easy, that our everyday life is filled with decisions and the welfare of other people. That we have in our hearts a collection of desires and hopes. There are moments when our dreams are in conflict with each other, and we have to make a choice. Which dream do we obey?

Obedience is not giving away our power, it is fulfilling what our life should be. We can rebel, I can quit writing. I can ignore the muse when it strikes. I did not have to write this blog post. You, reader, would have never known I was rebelling. Rebelling against who I am… but that’s not being REAL. (My word for the year.)

What about the muffins? Faithful readers know the role of making muffins on Sunday for my family. It is also an act of obedience. Obedience to my dream, my reality of having a loving home, having a tradition that brings us all together as much as possible. A dream I try to be obedient to every day.

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March 10, 2024 · 8:25 pm

Random Life

I usually use Spotify on my walks. Not 100 percent of the time, but mostly. By now you may have seen the AI DJ option. I’m sure you know that the “shuffle” option is not actually random for a playlist. Heck it is not random if you shuffle an artist. Even if you are a true fan, you usually just get the top songs…

AI is telling me what my own musical taste is… and it’s wrong.

Let’s stay with the music first. Jake Peterson in his article “The Reason Spotify Shuffles Aren’t Really Random (and How to Fix It)” says it best, “But most of us use the shuffle feature because we want random songs to play. Intentionally picking only songs that match each other means there are plenty of tracks that never see the light of day, and other songs that play much more frequently.” 

I have over a 1000 CDs, hundreds of cassettes, and my “Just Some Good Songs” playlist on Spotify is 49 hours long. 

Do I remember every song I ever heard? No.

Do I own CDs I haven’t listened to for awhile? Yes.  But I have listened to every one of them at least once.

My musical taste is mine. So, when I hit shuffle on a playlist, or an artist, like Prince. I am expecting to hear songs I haven’t heard in awhile. I want to be taken back in time, to remember moments I hadn’t thought of in awhile. I want to be reminded of how great a song is, or to appreciate a song now that I have experienced more in life and the song hits differently.

By default the algorithm is designed to play songs that match together. Joe Fedewa explains how this works in his article, “Why Spotify Shuffle is Not Truly Random”. Basically, Spotify curates the songs in a playlist, trying to keep songs by the same artist spread out and to have songs flow together. So, as Jake Peterson said, you may never hear a song you put on a playlist. A song you like.

The beauty of life is the randomness that happens.

Seeing a bird take flight on my walk.

Trying a new drink at the coffee shop, or the crazy new chip flavor Lay’s comes up with.

Or having a DMX song play after Phil Collins on my walk. That’s who I am, at least musically. AI will never understand that.

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February 11, 2024 · 9:17 pm

Blueberry Muffins and the Top 100 Songs of All-Time

My best friend and I have been sharing our top 100 favorite songs of all-time in countdown style since January 1st. We share one song each day with a quick insight on why the song was chosen. Usually we send the song info each morning. Today was no different. (Today was number 59, “A Different Corner” by George Michael for me. For my best friend it was Jane’s Addiction, “Summertime Rolls”)

I sent my text as I was waiting for the oven to preheat. The muffin pan was filled with the paper muffin cups. Coffee was about halfway done. A regular Sunday morning vibe. I smiled as I sent my song because I remembered the music video we made for my song. We filmed my reflection in a closet mirror as I sat backwards on a kitchen chair… where was TikTok when I was a teen? 

Over the last month it has been a musical journey sharing my list with my best friend. Yes, many of the songs are connected to our friendship, but others are soundtracks to other times in our lives. My best friend has songs from obscure artists that he has seen in concert. I have songs that I sing along to with my daughters. It is fun to continue to learn more about my best friend. It has also been good to remember the better moments in my life. 

Good moments like blueberry muffins on Sunday morning.

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January 23, 2024 · 7:51 pm

If this is the end…

What would I say? 

Who would I want to hear my last words? 

Would I write a poem? 

A blog post?

Would I be able to say or write anything if I knew it was the end?

I think I would want to see the stars one last time, that’s for sure.

But I’m 99.9% sure this is not the end. That I will get up tomorrow morning, get ready for work, fill my daughters’ water bottles, maybe make lunch (at the time of writing this they are going to eat hot lunch tomorrow). On the way to work my wife will get her Mocha Sea Salt Caramelicious blender. I will teach, eat lunch, teach some more, then head home. Depending on the night we might head to an activity, make dinner, or take one of the kids to a practice. I might wash dishes, or sit down to write with a cup of coffee (which I have next to me as I write). To finish off the day, I will read (reading Fairy Tale by Stephen King right now), brush my teeth, take my blood pressure pill and head off to bed.

Then repeat…

…unless…

…unless, this is the end.

I would like you, reader, to know that it has been a blessing to share my writing with you. To share my joys and heartbreaks.

I would want my family and friends to know I love them and that this life is beautiful underneath all the hate, trouble, and selfishness it seems to wrap itself in.

I would like people to remember my writing and the depth I tried to live my life. This life is the closet thing to heaven I’ve ever found.

But it is not the end… but I’m going to do a little stargazing after posting this blog. 

I’m also going to make sure to tell people I love them before I go to bed. You never know.

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