I’ll have … a beer

My last grandparent died this past Saturday. It was my Grandma (Marie) McDermott, wife of Frances, the man who’s name I took when I initiated. They were dear to me.

I have many memories of her. They were the people that introduced me to coffee – anyone who knows me knows that it is a sacred drink to me. We used to ride the Forth Street Elevator in Dubuque at least once a week. It was a major thrill for me and only cost between a dime and a quarter when I was little. We had each Christmas Day at their house, in their basement – a beautiful cozy room with wood paneling, carpet and a huge dining table. Each Christmas filled with cousins, family and one of those silver tinsel Christmas trees with a rotating color wheel that would make it change colors from silver to red, blue, green – I hear that those vintage trees are worth a fortune these days.

Gaps

I haven’t been blogging for some time, sorry readers. I’ve been too caught up with life. This blog has not been abandoned, but was simply put on hold. More to come. (I’ve also had some computer problems.)

My life lately has been addressing my gaps. I’ve had issues, most of them personal, that I’ve been dealing with my entire life. It’s one of gaps, and specifically it deals with my memory.

I have a frightening problem that occurs from time to time where I can’t remember something. This may be quite normal for most people, but at times it has caused great worry to myself. It may be a conversation, a person’s name, a memory. At times I have gaps.

There are many techniques I’ve used to combat my gaps. I’m a very good note taker, especially at work. I have electronica which servers as a digital assistant, reminding me of things that need taking care of so I don’t miss them. I make lists. I have memory aids to help me keep track of people’s names (I rhyme them or think of someone else I know with the same name, like you’re a Shaggy too?) Over the years, I have devised and refined my tools and techniques to help me work around this issue.

New Orleans Healing Center

I’ve previously written about how in 2005, on our 10th wedding anniversary, Katrina went over us while we were vacationing in the Bahamas on the island of Eleuthera (Death Ahead, Detour Next Right, Oungan François and Let’s take the free ANW pillow and go). That experience set the stage for us to travel to New Orleans (NOLA) the next year and me attending a conference. The year after that in 2007 we started getting involved with New Orleans Healing Center, an idea to create a community center to promote healing and sustainability in an area that needs it. It’s not just a community center, but a collection of different business, ideas, a street university, food and other things promoting healing and needed services.

For years now, my wife has worked tirelessly, along with dedicated individuals in New Orleans as well as others to make a vision become a reality. We went to meetings, she worked daily. They started out as ideas, salon meetings, hard work and dedication. They worked to secure funding. They worked to make it sustainable. They worked hard.

What Kind Of Priest Am I Going To Be?

What do you want to be when you grow up? I remember what power that phrase used to hold, so much possibility. I grew up privileged, I had options. I could be a lawyer, a doctor, an anything. It seemed life had unlimited possibility. I did believe I could be an astronaut, a president, an all-star athlete.

Eventually life led me to a series of choices and decisions. I had likes and dislikes I discovered. I chose computers, then television, then journalism, advertising and PR. I did radio, TV, downhill skiing and guitar. I flew airplanes. I sang. I immersed myself in so many different directions, I took bits and pieces of possibility and put it on my plate, tried it out, discarded what I didn’t like. I weeded out that which I no longer had time or commanded my attention. I majored: computer science and communications. I did a double-emphasis in communications: print/journalism and advertising/PR. I weeded myself down with those choices and chose a profession, a career. I’ve been working in my field for 25 years (yikes!).

Let’s take the free ANW pillow and go

I’ve been away for a while on a mission, a mission of taking care of the woman I love. Now I have a bunch of pent up things to say.

After all, we have a collection of those ANW pillows. I’m not even sure if they’re supposed to be free, but we have a collection of them. Maybe I should look into a recycling program.

I don’t mean to make light of the situation, after all this is serious business: surgery. I can’t imagine what it’s like. I had surgery, years ago: grade school, high school; broken bone stuff. The stuff that involves pins and wires. But I’ve never had surgery on my core, where all my muscles are, the stuff that supports my weight. I hope I never do.

I Have a Dream

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. day! I’d like to share some dreams of my own. I hope this isn’t pretentious, but rather in memory of the dreams of a great man. I share my dreams to honor his.

I have a dream.

I have a dream where I understand what White Privilege means, because being a middle class American white man I’m often blind to it. I have a dream where White Privilege isn’t something that we need to concern ourselves with.

I have a dream where politics in America is a dialogue, not a division; where people can take forward ideas without fear and anger from their neighbors or their government.

Action v. Intent

We’ve had a lot of discussion in our house on the subject of action v. intent. Intent is what we mean to do, what we mean to be doing, what we meant to do. It’s usually a pretty rosy picture, but it can also be delusional. Action is what we actually did. Action is the truth of ourselves. There is no coloring, rosy or otherwise. There is no meaning other than truth. It is what we do, what we did. There is no lie in who we are with action, although it may not paint us the way we wish to be seen.

I view my intent often through the lens of my ideal self – the person I think I am. I intend to be someone, so I think I am that person. But I’m actually who I am by the way I act, not the way I perceive myself. My actions often diverge from what I meant (my intent). It’s much harder to admit who I am using this value system. An example of this is donating to charity. I intend to do it more often than I actually do. I can go into so many different examples of how I see myself diverge from what I’m actually doing.