Grandchildren

It's all good.
Soon my property will be SOLD. Or not. The idea stirs so many emotions in me I can hardly begin to enumerate them; rootless with a profit; terrified of homelessness; free to simply be a boy and his dog; agile enough to hang with the young; once again unencumbered, and solvent with capability to ______ with the rest of my life. What's the next 5 year plan?
When I left Sacramento I proclaimed to another idiot that "a man can do anything in 5 years if he's capable and smart." The other idiot looked at me like 5 years was a century. He was unaccomplished and younger than I. Looking back 5 years is a blur, but looking ahead it's practically limitless. When I think of the last 27 months and how my world has changed, I wonder how many more lives I have in me? And where will I find the worlds on which to live them?
Of course I could never return to the city or California, because I have passionately declared them either flooded or a desert in the future, so for investment purposes they would be out. I would only return for love, because love overwhelms reason and is always a good investment. See? So point made.
In 5 years I could have a doctorate and be teaching university classes. At the very least earn a masters and be totally immersed in the world of academia. I could do a thesis on comparable similarities between the Han Chinese and the Native Americans tribes along the Pacific Northwest. I could ______. Fueling my desire, that is the question: what still burns hot enough to fire the engines? Nothing, really.
It's sad.
My youth is gone and I realize it could have been better spent. My children are grown and I realize I could have been a better father. My looks are gone and I realize I was flattering myself anyway. I have squandered a small fortune, and would have lost more, but for luck and economic circumstances. And I have a world of choices from which to choose and no passion for anything. Sad.
Grandchildren are the answer. Grandchildren are a second chance. Grandchildren are a great investment. Grandchildren and great-grandchildren are all the future I need, all the love I desire.
Until then, it might be time to learn to sail. I know where there is a dry-docked trimaran as big as the one in Waterworld. Time to ask a price and assimilate a crew. Sail to Italy. Right after I build a new compound in the city in the valley where the two rivers meet.

The Mall

We were at 'The Mall' last week. The Mall is a good place to observe Holiday Bliss. It's full of Bliss; decorations everywhere, party dresses on hangers, stacks of sweaters on sale, and people everywhere buying things for others... things others don't need. It was business as usual. The Holidays.
As my son and I walked through Macy's I noticed the strapless party dresses; short, with frill around the bust. They reminded me of the dresses from the roaring twenties. Do women really wear those 'party' dresses? Are there really parties where people dress like that? I decide it's time to buy new teeth and try to meet the Jeffersons. The excess. The bliss. Don't people in the city watch the news? Is the story different?
The orgy is over. America is now broke. We don't have the money to finance our desires anymore. People are losing homes. Banks are failing. Automakers need a bailout. Real estate lost 2 trillion dollars in 2008. China owns us. Am I the only one worried about the future? Am I needlessly worried about nothing?

Looking around I realize I'm the oldest person in the mall . Or at least it seems so. Now I am depressed; not only do I feel like a killjoy, but an old humbug of a Grinch too.

Thirty years past my prime mall carousing days, I can only wish I was young and handsome and attractive to the numerous young women that 'eye' my son and ignore me. I'm happy and proud for my son. I tell him enjoy every minute of being young. I think that life is too short and youth (the shortest segment of life) is way too short. The hell with growing old gracefully. Nobody at the Mall is living in reality except the minimum wage store employees waiting to get off work and join the consumer orgy of Bliss themselves.

So I decide I'll join the fantasy... I give a wink to a young women looking in my son's direction, and Boom Baby, Like a Bomb reality slaps me almost as quick as that girl could twist her neck and look in the other direction.
Worse yet my son sees what happens and chastises me for not knowing how to act. So much for Holiday Cheer and Good Will. She could have humored me a little. I didn't want to marry her. I didn't even care if I knew her name. I just wanted to be thirty years younger, dumber, cooler, and irresistible. And she could have done all of that with an air kiss or a wink.

Instead it was whiplash.

Not that I would have believed she was sincere, but later when I was alone, the male ego could make anything reality. Oh Well.

I start to think about how if I'd only known how Austin men don't age gracefully, I would have tried harder to be a good husband. Shocked back to the ugly truth, I try smiling at an older women looking at the party dresses; she looks me up and down and walks away, obviously not impressed with my dress and lack of obvious wealth. Damn, I was only trying to make her feel good about being old, too. I could never be interested in anybody whom would actually buy and wear one of those silly dresses.

I tell myself, "You've known love, romance, passion. You had your day. Aren't you a little old for such shallow measures of worth?" But the Annie L song 'Stay Young and Beautiful' keeps popping into my head.

Now, too old and poor and ugly for the Mall, I feel like a spaghetti western without Clint Eastwood. I tell myself it's not too late. I'm not all washed up. I realize I can still have all the love and desire that money can buy, and the male ego can make it real.

All right, now we're getting in the Holiday Spirit. The Bliss.

Later, lamenting to my son about the emphasis put on attractiveness, and how it's making me feel old....

He says, "I know, I started going to city college and met lots of new girlfriends. When I started at Berkeley, I met 'the bomb' and dropped the others. I lost the bomb in pursuit of the BA, but got the degree. And with every degree the quality of my women goes up. I can't wait to pursue my Law degree, or Masters." ...All for the desire of an education.

And then I was happy. None of us get forever on this earth, but it is fulfilling to see the evolution and immortality of ourselves in our descendants.

I hope When you are at the mall this year you'll think of this letter and remember : The orgy is over. America is now broke. We don't have the money to finance our desires anymore. People are losing homes. Banks are failing. Automakers need a bailout. Real estate lost 2 trillion dollars in 2008. China owns us.

And then find the money and pretend. Join the Bliss. It's Christmas and life. Especially youth, is way too short. Happy Holidays.

By the way, YOU look marvelous... Wink, Wink!

The Problem with Mortality

The problem of mortality has been bothering me quite a bit lately. I think it has to do with too much time to think. Life and space; those two things that bother me when I think about them. Space because it's infinite. Life because it's finite. I don't like the idea of life being over. What about all those tomorrows I'll never know? What about all those promises on tomorrow? I don't like the idea of space never ending. It seems to me at a certain point space should turn to solid. When I think about it, space and death should switch characteristics. Life should go on forever (true believers believe it does). Space should have some boundaries. Nope, end of the line, got to tunnel from here. Shake it up a little.
A man shouldn't have to wind down to mortality. At twenty I figured I had 80+ of Life left, but at 51 I KNOW that I have used at least almost half my Life. If I knew I could only live till I was sixty,... Oh, but even figuring to live to 105... every day another step toward the inevitable. Live every day like it's your last. Every day the odds of another decreases a little. Finite. But if life and space could switch characteristics, at fifty one you'd know you were half way to solid, and could look forward to a new world of tunneling.
All of this contemplation has led me to a new conclusion though. Given the choice of being the soul survivor of a dead world and spending the rest of my life alone, but having it all, or perishing with the rest of mankind at once in a meteor cloud or some other catastrophe, I would prefer to die with the masses in the calamity, rather than of loneliness. It has just occurred to me where I want to be buried, too. I don't. I want to be taken to the edge of the atmoshere and fired into space like a human cannonball. Then, even if life has ended, the road will go on forever.

Grand Theft Auto 4

Coinciding with oil reaching another record high of $123 a barrel today, the new video game 'Grand Theft Auto 4' generates $500 million in sales in it's first 1/2 week. That's half a BILLION in three and a half days in video game sales.
At the same time Myamar loses 100 thousand plus people in a cyclone (hurricane), and a good portion of Asia's rice crop is destroyed or threatened, unfotunately and coincidently, the week after experts predict world food shortages. Yet there is still $500,000,000 paid for this one new video game in 3 and a 1/2 days worth of sales. I underline this point because I wonder what the total game sales will in a week, month, year?
Now, I'm no Reverend Wright, and I won't claim to know anything about the divine plan, or how God really thinks. I'm not even going to claim there is a GOD, but supposing there is... then what the hell would you guess the Almighty is going to think upon her appraisal of the current state of affairs: "Things can't be that damn bad" or "How bad can it get"? Might depend on how many shares of Microsoft God owns.
Half a billion in retail sales has to be good for the stimulus package. Let me do a little research on that game and see if the money is going to China....
And just back from Google... Xbox is Microsoft. There you are; the rich get richer. And using theological criteria of appraisal for logic, God has to own a piece of Microsoft, otherwise no way in hell they could have that kind of success. Anyway, if the world falls apart, Americans don't think they care. They're stealing cars on the computer, and getting life's lessons from the perverted wisdom of Wall Street, graphic designers and the thrills of cyberspace.
What are life's lessons? I would guess for every life they are different. In America, where the vast majority of the now living population did not experience the Great Depression, where Baby Boomers have lived their entire lives in what, for the most part, was the expanding economy of the richest nation on earth, the lessons of life already learned may not apply to the world of the future. A world with a shrinking economy and the comforts and luxuries of yesteryear gone.
In a shrinking world, new lessons of life may be necessary to learn and, for Americans, it won't be easy. A world where property depreciates and today's pleasures can't be paid for with tommorrow's equity. How the hell are Americans going to pay for all those $35K SUVs, and put gas into them all $5 a gallon, if we can't refinance our homes every 3 to 5 years? That's why SUV sales are down in the billions and my Jeep has 235 thousand miles. Lessons learned.
A world where people go hungry. Everybody I know that has ever 'starved', afterward they could never be rich enough. Being hungry for food to sustain life, survive, must leave a long and lasting impression/fear. Today's native born Americans, for the most part, have never known real hunger. And the mass production of food depends on fuel and petrol chemicals and the weather. Absurd, Americans hungry! Not in our lifetimes. Hopefully.
Furthermore, in America (in our lifetimes) opportunity has always been available. Why save, just go make more money. Buy it on credit, pay for it with future money. Future money may not be available in the future. Opportunity may disappear. If you can't afford it now, forget it. Learn the value of a dollar and save. Damn, am I talking to the past, or what? I'm talking to the future, too. Too bad I can't afford to save. Anyway, I just thought the juxtaposition of current world conditions and video sales might explain why I think when the Almighty shows up she might be a little bitchy. Half a billion dollars. I wish I could afford that game and see what I'm missing.

Dogs

My nephew called me today. He said it was about time to bring his dog up here to live, that BooBoo (the dog) had shit on the floor for the third day in a row and he was done with her. I considered whether or not living with two dogs rather than one would make me less lonely. I decided not, so I made my nephew a better offer: I told him the dog could come and live with me if he came too!

On the surface it looks like a selfish offer, I know: I want company. Actually it is a very generous offer when you consider THE TURMOIL OF YOUTH, and that he has to find a new "place" in thirty days

See, I'd have company (probably be tired of his ass in three days, he's always tired of me after 72 hours), but he'd get to keep his dog, and he'd get free rent, and he'd get a stable home for him and his dog, and all without a deposit, first and last, and references. He wouldn't have to falsify income either. He would have to get a job. Remember all those hassles?

I got up today lonely. I'm tired of having nothing to do but work and no one to share my misery with. I've been home two days from Sacramento. I miss many things. Friends. Family. Wife. The weather: Sacramento is a paradise weather-wise. I think one has to live elsewhere from the valley to realize how comfortable it is. I discussed Sacramento with my mother. Her leaving Sacramento after fifty years and moving to Grants Pass was really a return to her home: She grew up on a farm outside of Myrtle Creek, Oregon. She's very happy with her move. I grew up in Sacramento. I'm lonely.

Mom will be eighty years old this July. She's joined the Grants Pass garden club, a church, a widows group. She wants to make friends and have a full life. I am invited to meet people. I decline. I have no interest. I languish in my loneliness and make little effort to resolve the problem. It is not people I miss.

It has been below freezing every night here. I still build a fire every day to take the chill out of the air. There is a lot of work involved when one lives in the mountains. Especially in a cabin that still needs the plumbing and is heated by a wood burning stove. Spring is so wonderful.Summer will be better.

I think about my next move: Should I look for property in the mountains I can pay cash for, then rent a place in Sacramento? or re-invest in the valley and return to the city? or go to China and teach for a while? I'll have to SELL first, and China is out because I have a dog. I can't give Shep up, we're partners!

My nephew's call reminds me of why I moved to the Mountains in the first place: I could no longer afford my home in the city but I absolutely needed a base , a home, stability, a sanctuary with a yard for the dog. It terrified me to think of being a renter while I watched the rest of my assets disappear ( fools and money, I knew I needed to re-invest, quickly). I remember being homeless, money in the bank didn't negate the fears, Those six weeks before I found Happy Camp road were horrid!

Happy Camp road is still all it was before: I realize it's Hell Explained that is making life not worth living...............Google will take you there if you don't understand : It's really a question of here or her. And if it's not her then China may be the answer, in which case this will be a great place to return to. Maybe I should take BooBoo for Shep?

Wisdom

Fifteen years ago I was 36 years old. You boys were 10 and 12. Now you are young men. The last fifteen years in your lives were the beginning. Looking back there are so many benchmarks, so many changes. Time is indexed and in retrospect those will be the years that passed slowest. So hang onto your hats, young men, because the train picks up speed from this point and it doesn't slow down for awhile. When you look back it turns to a blur. If you add any king of substance abuse, it disappears completely. Remember that, and this; Every moment killed in boredom, drunkenness and/or drug abuse... when you're on the 'other side of the mountain' you'll want it back.
That is a pseudo apology for not always being my best, not being compassionate or attentive enough at times, and giving too many of the precious moments away. The precious moments being the ones when you were boys. That I feel so guilty about.
I'm older now. And you boys are men. You both rarely have time for me. I guess you reap what you sow, but it seems to me I gave more then this. I wouldn't have tried at all if I would have known that for all my efforts I'd be shown no gratitude or love. I guess what I'm trying to say is: Although I tried to be young and one of the boys when you were growing up, as you reached manhood, I was forced to grow up too. My investments were paying no dividends. Another failed marriage, no love or respect from my sons, sold the family home, and I limped out of town depressed, heartbroken, and confused. Not to mention fifty years old and a net worth of $34,000. I had to grow up. I was terrified I had over extended my refusal to grow up AND didn't have the resources to make up for my recklessness.
I live a quiet life alone now. I go days in the southern Oregon mountains without speaking to other people. There is no bathroom, or kitchen. No excitement. Nothing artificial. Just reflection, remorse, understanding of the past, looking to the future, and hopefully wisdom applied. I am forced to be serious and responsible. I love you boys despite yourselves, so why can't I be loved, despite myself? I take no credit for your accomplishments but don't I get a cut of love for being there and trying? Don't all of you carry some of me with you every day?
I love you boys.

Getting Older

I don't mind aging. That's why I live out here in southern Oregon. I don't miss the glamor of the city. At one point in life I was good looking enough to disguise my hillbilly true self, but paint wears to the metal and the framework is evident. I didn't want to play the game all the time.
Underneath my handsome face and cool demeanor, after you dug through layers of hardened, tough, sculpted muscle, and compassionate gentle understanding, The roots were North Carolina Blueridge mountain. I am Grandpa's white, underachieving, little red-headed stepchild, who was just happy to be there.
I was innocent. I was the only kid in school whom looked like Opie on Andy of Mayberry, And my Grandpappy was from North Carolina! I walked around the halls of Joseph Bonnheim elementary singing Beach Boy songs. I had a Beatles haircut. My complexion was peaches and cream. I really don't know how I missed the movies with such a strong foundation.
If one grows up without 'fashion', any old clothes is enough. My understanding of clothes was simply what I learned from my small environment. And, of course seeing photos of 'tribe-women' from cultures that did not cover the upper half of the woman's body seemed strange to me just as it does children today. They realize there is a social taboo, and giggle. The 'tribe-woman' doesn't realize the taboo, obviously her attitude on covering the upper half of her torso is different. She probably thinks 'why bother'? Just like I did toward more sophisticated western fashion. Practicality was more important to her (I would guess) just like it was to me.
Covered properly, ready to go! I wasn't aware that plaid pants and checkered shirts didn't go together. When the latest haircut style was a crew-cut with an inch or two of hair left in front, greased back for the little greasy puff look, I let my puff hang. Ironically, it's the style today. Shaved head with bangs hanging in your eyes, or the cut right after the Mohawk with the different colored spikes. I wish that I could say that I was way ahead of my time.Keeping up with the style was difficult for me.
Growing old has no style; you're just old. I remember at seventeen, in pursuit of the perfect look, after an imperfect haircut, I shaved my head. It was1973 and 'shoulder length or longer' was the tune of the day. It didn't catch on then, but fifteen years later everybody was shaving their heads; about the time I got out of the army, but by then I wanted to grow my hair long.
At about thirty, with a naturally occurring bald head, two toddlers and an estranged wife, released by the green machine and allowed to wear whatever I wanted, I desired the glamorous life. But I just couldn't afford it. I wanted to stay young and handsome forever. I wanted enough money to attract the really fine babes, stir the best Gumbo, own the best props, but I didn't hit the lotto. And I sure as hell wasn't going to kill myself to stylishly keep up with the 'seduction of being cool' (although I had a running try for a while).
In my forties I became associated with people who truly 'worry' about the right car, clothes, haircut. They have money and pursue the 'better life'. They won't watch themselves grow old in the mirror. And see the surgeon, the cosmetics counter, the lip-o-suction machine. They'll add lip and lose hip, build breasts and bleach the rest.
At 50 something, I know now that the money is better spent up in these southern Oregon mountains finding true value for time and money... in a functioning toilet, or shower plumbing.
Getting old is fine with me. The alternative is impossible. I will never be "young" again, if youth is defined by years. That which is truly important will be all the sweeter to enjoy as an old man, when I have a better idea of what the qualifications.
Now, at my young age, I feel like the Tribes-woman: I ain't gonna worry about what doesn't occur to me. I'm naturally cool. Next time I see you I'll show you my tits and we can really relax!
Happy Thanksgiving to One and All.