Meet Joe Community

     It’s strange for a person like me who prioritizes community; using dates on the calendar as pin points of interest for potential gatherings - friends and family sharing food, fun, and memories with stye and then some, however one is often told by invitees that there are other items on the calendar to which they must attend: laundry, housework, cleaning.  And then one fine day you wake up to be told that there’s been a death in the family.  The clock stops dead in its tracks.  They drop their familiar duties and events in lieu of this calendar-shattering news and this thing now shifts into priority.  Everyone comes running leaving behind the trivial in their wake.

     I had a volunteer youth pastor friend die several years back due to a horrible carbon-dioxide accident on a weekend camping trip with a group of young teenagers. While sitting at his wake, I was told that funerals are for the living. It did not sink in immediately,  but thinking about those words, and allowing reflection and time for them to absorb I then realized...he was absolutely right. Funerals are obviously a ceremony for those left behind to remember, commemorate, and say goodbye.  There is no being in the beautiful casket.  There is no soul in the ashes.  There is no spirit in the frame.  One might think it strange to invite a photographer to such a somber event, but those who have gone through it once or twice, and prioritize family...know just how difficult it is to reconvene once they've have been scattered throughout the countryside, and rightly so.  Sometimes, relentlessly chasing down our big dreams leads to far away places often making it incredibly difficult to reconnect.  In lieu of such distinction, we attempt to take advantage of an otherwise morbid affair and steal a few snapshots with which we might lovingly update our albums.  Later we can show them to the younger pups who might not recognize Grandpa or who never got to know their Aunt Ida.  Perhaps we don't realize or wish to acknowledge such a fate, but the next time we gather might very well be unintentionally without a few people with whom we put off meeting for far too long.

     One undeniable fact is that funerals bring people together.  Some happy and others not so much.  Some filled with people who loved and was loved by the departed while others still empty, desolate, and void of affection.  If nothing else they are without a doubt a Show-stopper and cause pause for reflection.  How have you lived your life?  Did it matter that you were here?  How did you serve others around you?  How did you love?  Whom did you love?  With whom did you share your gifts?  How did you spend your time?  We no doubt have all heard that hearses lack the ability to pull a Uhaul and that Pharaohs had their wives (living or deceased) and all their riches buried with them fully believing that they would wake on the other side of death to a continued possession.  They seem to place a great deal of emphasis on relationships...at funerals.  they might as well place mirrors all along the hallways of funeral homes to help people emulate what might truly be important as we hear during this time of reflection how essential relationships are in the human journey, and yet when we return home we also generally return to the current program already in progress.

The ceremony, things needing to be said, and the opportunity to say goodbye tends to bring them in for one last hoorah; one final toast; one last look.

     I wonder how often in our own lives have we traded an opportunity to create a memory with a parent, or visiting cousin for the trivial nonsense which could have just as easily waited until tomorrow only to blow up in our face as we lost the ability to catch up with that long lost friend whom we haven't seen in forever.  The irony is that the entire time they will sit around talking about how we all need to get together more and we should have spent more time together in the past.  So…it would most assuredly seem like relationships and time together do at some point in time take priority, but this happens most often and best in hindsight after it’s too late, and we can no longer go back, but then again…that’s just my humble opinion. 

Autumn

It’s definitely that time again.  That season for pumpkin-spice lattes with extra foam and a dash or two of cinnamon has finally returned.  It's that time for brisk evening walks with the family atop crunching leaves beneath your feet and skies peppered with kites, Friday Night Lights, and late evening bonfires with a hint of cherry wood in the air and the perfect coals for roasting a Hebrew National or two two chased with slightly toasted soft puffs of collected sugar represented gleefully in Ghostbusters by a jolly white stay-puft giant atop a melted chocolate square and as our young friend from the sandlot might say, "placed upon the graham".  We have but only a few weeks remaining to enjoy the sharply manicured lawn in the hammock with the family dog at our side and our beloved in our arms while the kiddos race through the piled leaves towering high in a heap of laughter and wonder and all the while, Grandma labors away with love the beautiful process of canning the garden salsa grown just a few feet away from the hammock;  time for Buffalo Trace and vinyl and a vintage Rocky Patel with in the study accompanied by a round table discussion of the philosophy of time travel with style and then some in a DeLorean designed by a crazy, wild-eyed scientist, while layering a mesh of threads colored in rust, brown and paisley button down wrapped with a crisp bow tie and a quarter zip underneath a chalk stripe notch lapel jacket with a contrasting pocket square and a bright lapel pin. 

It’s time to go sockless with a pair of well-worn, horse-buckle Allen Edmonds and your choice of torn denim while she steals your favorite Saturday sweater for date night to your restaurant after a another memorable day with the family to the apple orchard for a pumpkin hunt, caramel popcorn, and candy apples .  It is the perfect time of year for the feel of a leather bound book in your hand while turning the silk pages one by one while relaxing in an adriondack chair with a fresh cup of Dean & Delucca on the stand nearby atop a crisp green lawn with the Olde English Sheepdog a few paces away soaking in the mid afternoon sun and a choir of birds lift their song in ambience.

    The air circling the neighborhoods become thick with the echo of families singing campfire songs around a fiery orange glow and small stripes of smoke can be seen from the drive-in movie theater as you await the double feature accompanied by a large cooler filled with goodies and a brand new frisbee.

    This is the very time of year when you can roll the window down and feel the cool breeze against your face traveling down the highway with the warmth of the engine air on your feet and Phil Collins on the stereo.

    It is absolutely that time once again to warm up, cool down, chill out, kick back, soup up, gear up, relax, chillax, take 5, take a break, take a breather and enjoy for before too long we will ask one another in the month of December, a little more than a month away, "where has the year gone, and when will summer arrive," but then again...that's just my humble opinion.

Speeding Tickets for All

We were on our way back from a visit with Joyce's folks this past weekend. They all get together a couple of times out of the year and we are either at the pool in the summertime with fruit and fried goodies or at a hall somewhere celebrating Christmas with...fruit and fried goodies. It was a perfect day for a drive as I recall. The sun was shining overhead with a slight breeze making it a 75 degree afternoon for the ride home. She was resting her eyes while I was surveying the countryside with the moonroof open, and the windows slightly cracked, and the Boston Acoustics pumping some 80's into a positively smooth atmosphere. I am so incredibly jealous of her sound system that mere words do not do it justice. 

Those kinds of moments don't come everyday, so when they do, much like I would imagine you do...I soak them up with style and then some. I was in a slight haze of bliss when I passed by a church with a sign which read, "Summer needs a speeding ticket". It caught me off guard at first, and then it hit me. We had just begun August. Somehow we were beyond the middle of the year of 2021. Can someone please tell me where the past 7 months went? I checked the glovebox and under the seat...which I imagine is where nearly everyone looks when they lost their sunglasses, keys, wallet, cheetos, etc. Where did summer go? It was here last time I looked. 

If you missed it, Angola, IN just went through a humorous Sign War amidst retailers and restaurants which was most amusing to watch on a day-by-day basis. I did not, however, see anyone post a sign about summer, that was...until now. And by now...it was too late. Normally, by this point I had consumed my weight in watermelons, swam my age in hours at the pool, and caught a sunset or two with my bride. Where did summer go? I for one, couldn't agree more with that sign. Summer should get a speeding ticket. And for that matter so should your first date with that special someone. Those tend to go a little too fast, do they not? And your wedding day deserves a speeding ticket as well; all that planning, and scheduling, and phone calls, and meetings, and tailoring, and food, and dresses, and parties, and friends, and memories, and within a matter of hours the wedding day is over, the vows have been shared and witnessed and the marriage has begun. A speeding ticket should also be administered to the honeymoon.  All the dreaming and planning, and traveling, and selfies, but before you know it you have returned from your travels and real life begins. I’ll raise a glass to speeding tickets for vacations, And longer weekends, and late nights with friends, and early mornings with my wife sipping coffee and listening to Norah Jones while watching the sunrise. More speeding tickets and penalties for birthday breakfast with your 16-year-old, date night with your daughter, and a midnight basketball game with your son. They should certainly cut a speeding ticket for that special tee time with your young daughter, that construction time with your boys building the lego battleships and heading into lego war. There should definitely be a speeding ticket for your anniversary celebration in Jamaica, for puzzle time during Christmas with the grandparents, opening gifts with your children on Christmas morning, for the fireworks show during your July 4th celebration, and quite frankly speeding tickets for the growth of your children; for time on the lake fishing with grandpa, and for going to the movies with dad. I think there should be speeding tickets for the time spent with grandma learning how to make her famous Ginger Crinkles; for Sunday afternoons getting ice cream, and for the last few moments with your parents on their bed surrounded by family. There should definitely be a speeding ticket for that. And while we're at it, let's write speeding tickets for those last few moments with man's best friend before he must be put down due to cancer, or another illness, or perhaps just age. A ticket should be written for the time we have with our son or daughter before we drop them off at college on their first day, for that time spent with the fellas before they go off to basic to protect our country, and for that last Sunset before we say good night. Yup, when it comes to those kinds of things, in my world, and I know I don't speak for everyone, I say let's write some speeding tickets and slow a few things down, but then again...that's just my humble opinion.

He Was Just Gone

     There used to be this chubby little boy running around the house with a bucket on his head and using the cat as a pillow and the dog as a blanket.  His cheeks were like that of a chipmunk...it was all you could do to keep from pinching them non-stop.

     I woke up this morning and the little boy was gone.  Vanished.  Into thin air.  We looked high and low, checked iPhone locator dots, messenger location, Google maps.  We used "The Cat in the Hat's - Calculatus Eliminatus."  We Stumbledupon his Tumblr account, Reddit outloud, and even asked the mayor of 4Square, but all for naught. He was just gone.  I honestly do not understand how something like this could happen.  I was certain we kept better tabs on him than that.  It's similar to those times when you walk into a room for a certain thing, and 5 minutes later you are still standing in the center of the room, wondering why you are there and what you were searching for in the first place.  As strange as this may sound...that very thing happened to this child of whom I speak...several years back.  We were in the theater, and I asked him to run and grab another bag of popcorn from the pantry.  10 minutes rolled by before I realized that neither the popcorn nor the child had returned.  I had to go in after him and retrieve the scrumptious necessities myself, for when I arrived in the pantry, there he was peering outside at the neighbors' dogs.  It was good that I went in anyhow because we also needed a fresh bag of flaming Hot Cheetos.

     Where did he go?  He was the kind of kid with a ball of energy just waiting to be opened by Pandora, and when the seal had cracked...look out!  His baby picture has him propped up with a bright smile on his face, fists clenched, and starring into the distance in preparation for his first TED talk.  We can't seem to find him.  I thought perhaps he was out in the garage next to the heavy bag where we would box and listen to 90's Rap music and talk about the many corollaries between life and boxing, but there was only a used pair of gloves and some wrist wraps.  Perhaps he was in the yard running through the sprinkler with his cousins, but when I turned the corner...there was no Nick.  The sprinklers looked like they hadn't been used in years.  They were dry, rusted over, and lifeless.  He would on occasion, play hide and seek in the basement, but I couldn't find him down there.  He wasn't in the attic, and he wasn't screening anything in the theater.  How does one just disappear like that?  Joyce reminded me that from time to time he would retreat to my office to play video games on the Mac and watch Funny stop-motion Hulk videos on Youtube while battling his Hulk action figures.  When I opened the door to the office...the lights were dim.  The screens for the Mac were off and no child sat before them playing some silly game.  There were no Hulk videos running in the background, and no little guy duking it out with some green action figures.  The silence was deafening.  There was a pain in my heart with the void of laughter and giggles that once stemmed from a child sitting in my seat.  The chair wasn't twirling in a dizzy spiral round and round again with a young voice calling for my attention inquiring about dinner.  There was no flipping through the channels or watching a rabbit-hole YouTube link and switching to an entirely different video only seconds into it, and repeating.  It was just silent, and he was gone.

     Joyce had found someone that looked like him upstairs in Nick's bedroom.  When I reached  the top of the stairs I met a young man who vaguely resembled our little boy, but with all vulnerability was far older and looked almost nothing like our missing child.  This fine young gentleman was tall, well dressed, and wore a long black gown with a light sheen and a square cap with a golden tassel dangling on the side.  He smiled and asked me, "Well, whatta-ya think, Dad?"  It sounded like him.  Surely it did.  His hair was thicker.  Voice was deeper, and somehow older.  He held a diploma binder in his left hand and a Katana Blade clenched proudly in his right fist.  I honestly didn't think he needed it, I mean...let's be honest.  They mail you the diploma within a couple of days, so what was he gonna do with a binder?  The blade was obvious and you being a bright and intelligent blog-subscribing individual and a well-read scholar...I needn't even get into the specifics of the need for the katana blade.  You probably already know everything about that.

    Who was this guy?  And where was our son?  Where's the kid with whom I would play catch in the backyard, and kick the soccer ball on the field, and wrestle to the ground?  Where's the little guy I used to throw out of his bed and claim his mattress as my own at bedtime as another opportunity to wrestle and bear hug?  Where's the kid I used to tuck into bed so tightly at the end of the day that he could barely move, and as I would turn to make my exit I would hear a slight giggle and bed squeak and ruffling of the covers.  I would then turn quickly to discover he had shot his foot out from underneath the tightly wound covers requiring us to begin once again...laughing the whole time, until we got yelled at by Mom.

     Apparently, that young child to whom I have referred several times is all grown-up, standing before us at attention with style and then some ready to take on the world headstrong and sure of his next steps.  I only wish I were as confidant in my own.  We were told all of our married life that we should take every moment to enjoy them while they're young, because one fine day we'll wake up and they will be graduating.  They were right.  We both did our best to suppress their aging process and keep them small and huggable and throwable, but in the end, after looking high and low and in all the regular places, our little boy had vanished leaving in his wake a fine young gentleman well on his way to the next chapter in this book called "Life", but then again...that's just my humble opinion.