Bottom of the ninth. Runner on first. One out.
You’ve got your best baserunner on first. The Kid has wheels. He’s got 41 steals this year, only thrown out four times. Virtually a lock to nab second. Your #3 batter is up, cleanup guy on deck. Both hitting over .330 this year.
You peer from the dugout. Across the diamond, two hundred feet away, the third base coach locks his eyes to yours. You take a breath. You tune out the crowd. You make the decision, and swipe your hand over the brim of your cap.
Continue reading It’s How You Play The Game…
There’s an unholy trinity, of sorts, that we all know. The three dates on the calendar we all dread: her birthday, the day she died, and Mother’s Day. The first two are yours to cope with any way you’d like; short of a phone call from family or your closest friends, the outside world doesn’t know the significance of the day. You can celebrate, grieve, or simply hide.
On Mother’s Day, though, there’s no hiding. It’s a cruel joke of a parade, amplified tenfold by Facebook and every other stream of media surrounding you—friend after friend singing the praises of their wonderful mother, smiling next to her with mimosas at brunch this morning, telling the world they “don’t know what they would do without her.”
Continue reading For The Motherless, On Mother’s Day
That’s what it cost.
Exactly one year ago yesterday, I quit my job. I had my reasons. Like every major life decision, though, the sabbatical was propelled more by what I couldn’t do any longer than what I wanted to do going forward. It’s a simpler need to satisfy, anyway; picking one path from an endless selection of paths can be overwhelming, but knowing you need to get the hell off the path you’re on is a great deal more intuitive.
Continue reading On The Virtue Of The Sabbatical
So there we were, an extended family of about one dozen scattered about the sectional couch, tentatively and collectively focused on the television across the room showing the final minutes of the movie Elf. The little ones had quieted down for a few minutes; for a scene or two we could hear the words instead of just watching the images flicker by.
Then, in the penultimate scene of the film, Zooey Deschanel gets up on a carriage and starts signing Christmas carols to… I don’t know, something about Christmas Spirit and an amount of it needed for Santa’s sleigh to take off – or an idea along those lines. On the corniness scale, this ranks somewhere past Nebraska in August. If Splenda could talk, it would tell this scene to tone down the sweetness a notch. Continue reading The True Value of Christmas
“Oh I’ve heard, that it’s good, to look before you cross…
And nobody, no one, nowhere will ever find you – if you don’t get yourself lost.” (Robinson/Robinson)
We’re all a little flawed. Some of us more than others, I guess, but we’ve all got some baggage in our respective metaphorical closets. Once we become cognizant it’s there, we’ve got exactly two choices on how we can proceed – we can avoid it, or we can address it.
The problem with addressing it, though, is that it’s hard. And sometimes scary. And it might take a while. Plus, we’ve got shit to do. The kids have practice or that report is due or the boat payment isn’t going to make itself; whatever the reason, we resign ourselves to a course of avoidance and move forward, albeit down a serpentine path. Continue reading Finding Happiness Outside Our Walls