Plans, Dreams, and Goals.

Today I turn 57 years old (years young?).  My dad is 85.  Do I, can I, have another 28, 30 years?  I certainly hope so.  This past month I have begun anew to take a better look at my health, for a variety of reasons.  Most of you know I lost my job last month.  No big deal.  But I will lose my health insurance.  So, I get concerned about my health.

But I wasn't happy at that job; working for the misguided types that we find all over.  Life is too short to be unhappy.  I have always felt that but I did not always practice it.  Most of the time you get stuck doing the unsavory, mundane task of surviving.  Rents and mortgages, grocery and utility bills must be paid.  And society places us in roles that we must perform.  We must be productive.  We must work.  We must provide.  We must be good citizens.

Today, I was happy.  I went to my favorite spot in the county.  I shared the company with my family.  I spoke with my daughter 1200 miles away.   I reminisced... I thought... I pondered.  I learned a few things about myself.  I learned that I must exercise.  Physically, mentally, spiritually.  I got tired.  My body is weak.  I got depressed.  My spirit is sullen.  I learned.

I am about to embark on several journeys.  Perhaps a new career; perhaps a new livelihood.  New endeavors, labors, aspirations.  I don't know.  I am working on it.  I have a great many projects on my desk.  The must do's.  The should do's. The might do's.  I have to make myself a 'must do' on someone else's list.  I now have the time to do that.

I plan on becoming more disciplined in my own personal work.  I start that with this essay.  I was tired and should have gone to bed but I am determined to finish this.

I plan on changing my dreams into goals.  A goal is a dream with a deadline.  So.  I just need to put my plans for my dreams into actions and assign them a goal.  There are so many dreams.  So many plans.  I need to assign them goals.

The tradition is that on New Year's Eve we make resolutions for the new year.  Isn't a birthday the start of the new year, of A new year?  It seems to me that each day is the promise of a new year.  Each day we should start with a resolution, a plan, a dream, a goal.  That is what I will do. Let this be my testament, my resolution for today, for the coming year.  And for every day and year after this.  I shall wake with resolve and determination to accomplish something.

David. 

Health, Jobs and New Horizons

Wow, what a weekend! Well, I guess it started two weeks ago.  So, what a month!!

As we get older our friends and family gets older, too.  For the most part, and if we are lucky.  My family is no different.  News hit us the last few weeks that some family members are facing terrible medical illnesses and setbacks.  Such is life, I guess.  Doesn't make it any easier.  Makes you listen to all the healthy living advice that seems so prevalent these days.  Life is a precious gift; one worth fighting for.  And so, we do.  My family is fighting right now. 

Last week, for instance, my 85 year old dad, had some labwork done.  The very next day he was in the emergency room and spent the entire weekend in the hospital.  Luckily, this past week my two sisters and I had reinforcements from out of town as one of my other sisters was in town visiting.  Oh well.  Such is life, I guess.  We managed and I hope they managed to have some fun while they were on vacation.   Dad is home, back to his routine and doing as well as can be expected. 

And again, what a month.  Last Thursday my boss pulls me into a conference room and tells me that,
"The corporate office has decided to make a change. Sorry Dave. Today is your last day. Clean out your desk and go."  Ten minutes later I was unceremoniously walked to the door.  "Give me your badge". Ha Ha. Oh well, better things are a-coming.  Good riddance to a management who won't listen. 

And so, this week I start afresh.  New beginnings.  I see great prospects on the horizon.  So many  friends have come forward with offers of help and advice.  It sure warms your heart.  Such is life.  We are what we build and nurture.  I have many friends.  I am grateful for that.  And because of that my future is brighter than it was even a week ago. 

My Daughter

My daughter recently applied for her dream job.  She got it and now, this week she is moving.  

She texted me today that she was in Redding, Ca.  Getting farther away.  Soon, she will cross the state line.  Little milestones of growing up, and away.  Bittersweet for me.  But I am so happy for her.  

My daughter, Kate,

Has left the state,

And Woe-be-gone

She’s gone to Oregon.

The absence is the hardest part

But she’s gonna make a brand new start.  

Sometimes I just think in rhymes.  Can't help it.  Good luck, Kate.  

Love, 
Dad.

A Poem, Unfinished, Revisited

This was a poem I posted in 2008.  I am going to re-post it here today because I have always liked it but I cannot seem to shake the idea that it might be unfinished.  I always feel like I need to tweak it, change it or try to make it better.  I really don't know if it is finished.

"Disposable Children

He came to us the newly adopted laughing boy,
A joy to the kids and babies at our daycare.
The laughing boy went home to loving arms at end of day.
A mama’s joy.

As days went by the laughing slowed.
A little boy misses his baby brother, another foster child,
Another home.
Mama’s joy unites them at last.
The two adopted laughing boys.

The laughing boys played hard.
Their love was shared.
But boys come home at night, to a quiet house,
And loudly played and played…

And mama’s joy turned angry. Quiet time is what she craved.
Parent’s get tired from work.
Stresses build and
Become unbearable.
Call the agency, contracts broken
We can’t handle this, we can’t handle two, loud, noisy boys.

The agency arrives and tells the boys.
Little boys go where they are told
They never make friends,
    they are bought and sold
Passed around and loved
    from home to home,
To grow into the realm
    of the crowded and alone.

August 29, 2006"
C. 2006 David Normand

Perhaps you, my friends and readers, can tell me what you think of it.  I haven't been to a very good poet's workshop in a while and need some feedback.  I gave this to one teacher at the end of the class and asked him for his comments but heard nothing.

That is one of the reasons I stopped going to workshops.  I took enough of them.  I think I learned some stuff.  I guess now I just  need to put that knowledge to work.  I need to sit at my desk and write.  I don't know if I suffer from writer's block.  I have ideas, I know how to write.  I just lack motivation.  I am a lazy writer.

Wow.  There.  I said it.  Amazing how the  mind works.  As soon as I typed that phrase, "I am a lazy writer", my mind went blank.  I stopped writing, typing for about 30 seconds.  I had no place to go.  I almost went to bed.  Maybe I should type something different, like, "I am a prolific writer", and see if I can trick my mind into actually finishing something?  You know what?  I feel the positive motivation.  Amazing.  Wow. This changes everything.  But not tonight.  I must sleep on it.  Decide in the morning if I have the motivation to write.

Good night,
D.

It's a Small World --(Draft)

(Author's Note:  The core ideas of this essay were written at the turn of the millennium-we can argue about the correct date some other time - 2000 or 2001. I have tweaked it more for today. I may have to tweak this some more but the general theme is relevant today.  I list this as a draft because I believe there is still a great deal to say.)

One of my least favorite songs is "It's a Small World." So it is kind of ironic that I chose that as the title of my topic today. But I have been kicking around a few ideas over the past few years and the title just seemed to fit.

At the change of the millennium it occurred to me how lucky we are. I spent New Year's Eve watching from the safety of my own home. The Y2K bug didn't scare me but I don't drink and I have always enjoyed being home with the people who mean the most to me, my family. I was impressed by the way the world came together to fight a common enemy, human shortsightedness.

The world is getting smaller. For 24 hours we watched as it got smaller still. Every inhabited spot in the world took time to celebrate the millennium. Never mind the fact that it might have been a year premature, that is not as important as the fact that the world came together. With all the hype from the last 2, 3, or 4 years about the Y2K computer problem, whether it was a hoax or not, we have shown that humans can pull together for the common good. (It seems that there are always individuals or groups who try to frighten or panic the populations, for whatever reasons.)

And that brings me to my second point. Everything is believed. About a couple of years ago I started kicking around this idea. It is not entirely my idea, but one I am beginning to share with a large number of people. Everything is believed. For most of my life I have been searching. I have read a lot about other belief systems, some of those written by people who fervently believe in what they are writing. I have looked at a lot of things and it is true, everything is believed. You can come up with any idea and I am sure that you can find people who believe in it.

There are many different religions in the world today. There are religions that believe in the spirituality of man; those that believe in the sanctity of nature; those that believe in one god; those that believe in none. There are those that believe in themselves and those that believe in nothing. Save the whales, save the ocean. Save the birds, save the trees. Save everything. (My wife says that is what I, the pack rat, believe in, save everything.)

All we have to do now is look around us. We see it in our society today. We saw that in the riots in Seattle (This was originally written around the 1999 World Trade Organization Meeting). Seattle was interesting in that people from many different groups came together to fight a perceived common enemy. Longshoreman, teamsters, Union workers together with environmentalist and animal lovers. It seemed that every belief group got together to protest what they felt was an affront to their beliefs. Everything is believed. Everyone has a voice. I think the riots in Seattle were an important event in our lives and coming so close to the Millennium celebration was extremely profound. Different groups coming together. This is very significant.

I have been reading a lot about the coming together of groups. Cultures are becoming less diverse, or at least less mysterious. This new "openness', I'll call it, is not happening just in cultures. I used to think that to believe in something meant giving it your whole heart and believing in that and nothing else. Well, in the past few months (years) I have learned that even the staunchest and most rigid religions of the world can break down the walls.

I find this very significant. For the first time in thousands of years, the religions of the world are becoming more open. I just recently found out that the Catholic religion has set up a Vatican committee that regularly meets with other religions "From Anglicans to Zoroastrians" not to persuade but to discuss the benefits of spirituality. That Catholics meet with other religions is not significant. The important thing is that these discussions were going on -- at least prior to 2001.

I often surf the internet at night and go into the Buddhist or Hindu chat sites just to check out different views. I wanted to point this out. And religions are a major point that I want to make. I grew up in a world where we were afraid that the world would end with a great war of religion in the Middle East. I am not going to say that that won’t happen but I will offer this to you. During the past 30 years our world has been full of terrorism. Things change. Just this past weekend I was reading in the esteemed journal 'The Economist" and they said that Islam was becoming more mainstream. The majority of Muslims have decided to become a gentler force. "We want to be seen as an opposition force and not as a resistance movement, and to work from within the system rather than seek to overthrow it.” I looked at the new millennium with great optimism. As we entered the new millennium new opportunities opened for all mankind. But we must become more tolerant and more understanding of each other.  Those thoughts were wounded on September 11, 2001

We are becoming a small world. We are closer, we will have more interactions, and we will have more differences. We must learn to deal with those differences. Those differences will make us stronger. We hear the term a lot now about the global economy. That is still some future ideal. There are still many peoples that are not a part of our world. But we have taken that first step.

For those people to join the global economy they must be given the opportunity, they must be given the choice. Opportunity and choice. These things must exist together for the global ideal to occur. Economically, we can offer that. But there is one more thing that we must offer and strive for. We must strive for tolerance. Tolerance of others beliefs and cultures. That is an ideal that may prove to be somewhat more elusive. We must be able to accept other peoples' religious beliefs. That is the very nature of a people, of a society. A belief system is by its definition a very powerful force in a person's life. In some ways it is what makes them who they are. We must acknowledge that belief, that characteristic. We must allow it to flourish and coexist with our own belief system. This is important. This creates an important dilemma. I will leave you with that thought and this….does tolerance of other people's faiths or beliefs trivialize our own? If we acknowledge others as having a right to believe or worship as they do does that diminish our own? It is a narrow and difficult path to walk.

Some quotes on tolerance:

"No man has a right in America to treat any other man "tolerantly" for tolerance is the assumption of superiority. Our liberties are equal rights of every citizen." --Wendell L. Willkie

"Tolerance. I have seen gross intolerance shown in support of tolerance." --Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"The responsibility of tolerance lies in those who have the wider vision." --George Eliot

"Tolerance comes with age. I see no fault committed that I myself could not have committed at some time or other. "--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"People are very open-minded about new things--as long as they're exactly like the old ones. "--Charles F. Kettering

"Tolerance is another word for indifference." --W. Somerset Maugham

"Broad-minded is just another way of saying a fellow's too lazy to form an opinion." --Will Rogers

"It is easy to be tolerant of the principles of other people if you have none of your own. "--Herbert Samuel

"Tolerance is the oil which takes the friction out of life." --Wilbert E. Scheer

Funny Thing...

And I don’t mean funny – ha ha.

The other day I drove to the office.  Non eventful.  Got to my desk at OH dark thirty AM and was settling in to my day’s work.  I hear from another new arrival that there is a fire on, or near, the bridge over the interstate.   “Oh well, probably just a homeless encampment”, and we stood there at the window and watched the flames shoot 20 to 30 feet into the air. 

It was funny, weird.  That we could stand there and stare and think that it was “just” some poor homeless creatures belonging going up in flames.  No other feelings.  Just a cold, detached stare.  No matter.  Someone’s already destroyed life now in ashes.  Are we that cold as humans that we don’t feel; we don’t care. 

We never did bother to find out the details.  Was it a homeless camp on the abandoned railroad bridge?  Was it a burning car on the freeway?   We can’t be bothered to find out the details of tragedies that don’t affect our lives.  Our little selfish, lives.  Or maybe we are too concerned about our own little problems?

Just a few thoughts.

Sunday Morning Walk

"This morning I awoke and stepped outside to feel the face of God - the warm sun on my face.
This morning I walked to the music of the voice of God - the birds singing in the wires and trees.  This morning I loved with the love of God in my heart as I walked the path we shared.
I walked as if you were there beside me; and you were, in the love in my heart;
In our shared thoughts; in our joy of life." 

I wrote this for my wife, Nora.  She was out of town last Sunday, but she walked with me, as always. The last line was reminiscent of "Les Miserables" -- "To love another person is to see the face of God."  

Funeral Lament

Traveling south on the I-5 corridor in central California on a beautiful sunny day, going home.  Green hills fade to brown but the sky remains a pastel blue the entire way. 

Travelers we, lost souls in an automobile on a rock highway, we leave no trace while traveler’s in aluminum tubes in the sky leave lines in their wake – vapor trails.  

On a funeral weekend, the lines seem like God’s stitches in the sky as he adds another angel to His patchwork. 

lines and shadows

While waiting for a seminar to start, a couple of Saturdays ago, I noticed the light shining through the window.  The lines played well with the shades and light and I was able to capture the moment on my camera.  I love these little gems, these moments, that just lift your spirits.  I really enjoyed that. 

D.

Thoughts

Different industries each have their own ego, jargon and conceit.  Each may feel they are the most important.  In truth, every enterprise has their own unique presence and power in being.  Be good in what you do. 

D. 

Friendship

My friend, Bob, died a year and a half ago, February 26, 2013.  I miss him.  I found a note on my desk tonight.  Something I wrote on the anniversary of his death.  I want to capture it here and get that scrap of paper off my desk.  I am trying to clean things up.  It is not working.  Oh well, baby steps.  Here it is:

It has been a year now.  As if each 365 day block creates a milestone of loneliness.  As if each man made entity serves as some sort of remembrance.  But the truth is, each little day, each little moment, minute, hour, I have missed you.  You were my friend.  I enjoyed every conversation, every thought, every plan, every joke.  You were my friend.  That word carries with it its own meaning.  I had known you for 34 years.  Outside of family you were the longest relationship of my life.  I am glad we stayed in touch.  I wish we could have talked more.  Thank you for being a friend.

So, there you have it. Just a few thoughts.  A short remembrance.  This is for you Bob.

May you rest in peace.
D.

Friday Night Dinner with My Dad.

Since my mom died, gosh, almost three years ago, my sisters and I take turns fixing Dad dinner.  Tonight was my turn.  

The television news was on when we got to my Dad’s house for Friday night dinner.  Same news, bad news, old news, new news.  One story caught my attention.  One of our local school districts has discovered that the new school session has some students left without books.  The news story contained the information that you would expect.  One health class did not have enough books.  Some parents were upset.  How could the board not plan for that?  Really!  Further on the reporter announced that only 90% of the students had IPads. 

 

My dad responded.  Words to the affect that… “when I was in school I was happy just to have a tablet.” 

My dad further explained that it was during the depression, 1936.  And the tablet was a wood framed little piece of blackboard.  His writing utensil would have been a piece of chalk. 

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  School supplies were in short supply then as now.  And the new student really just wanted a tablet. 

D.

David Francey Is A Poet For Real Life

About a month ago my wife and I took a trip up the coast to Long Beach, California.  I had heard a few months earlier that the great Canadian folk singer/songwriter, David Francey was coming to town for a house show.  And so, I immediately inquired about getting tickets.  House concerts are small, informal venues at someone’s house.  This was a small event and sold out immediately.  I was put on a waiting list.  Unfortunately, someone cancelled.  I say unfortunate because they were unable to listen to a great poetic musical talent.  But it was fortunate for us because my wife and I were able to attend.  As luck would have it the evening (May 18) was the anniversary of our engagement (27 years ago).

 

It was beautiful venue.  The hostess, Julien Menard, was a very gracious host and even offered dinner for those who wanted to stay.  It was a very intimate environment and a very nice afternoon. 

The stage was set in the Menard’s living room--a stool for the Artist, a chair for his guitarist, an overstuffed chair and sofa, and rows of folding chairs for the guests.  There were two windows open to allow a nice breeze to flow through.  Ahh, the breeze, every once in a while, the wind will blow, and sometimes, on that wind, we are blessed with the music of greatness – music of real people, real stories.  David’s poetry comes through his songs and subjects.  His words are poetry and his subjects are made so much more beautiful for it.  David’s songs touch everyone because his songs are about all of us. 

I first discovered David Francey when I heard “The Fourth of July” on XM radio, channel 15, 10 years ago.  I have been a fan ever since.  One CD, another, then another, and now I am hooked.  I love them all.  And it seems that each song somehow touches a part of my own existence, my own life’s journey. 

I have been a “Paper Boy”, I have spent nights in “Cheap Motels” and I have traveled at “Nearly Midnight”, and traveled all alone at that.  I have spent the “Waking Hour” wondering about new loves.  In these songs David touched me.  

In the next set he sang one of my wife’s favorite songs.  “Broken Glass” is one that touches us both. I was one of those shy 14 year olds.  My heart broke every time one of those girls went by. 

Sunday morning’s in our neighborhood the church bells ring.  It is one of the things my wife loves about our house.   And we often go walking and listen to the bells and watch all of the “Saints and the Sinners” walk or drive past us.

  

David Francey sang a song titled “Green Fields”.  I didn’t get a chance to thank David for this song and for singing it.  This was a story of my wife and myself.  I had a few doomed relationships before I met my wife.  But I eventually wrote her a letter.  She wrote back and “love came with letters and the morning mail”. My wife and I used to live off Greenfield Lane.  The song means a lot to us.

 

During the concert David spoke of his life’s experiences.  He used to be a “Paper Boy”; I used to be a paper boy.  He washed dishes in a restaurant; I washed dishes in a restaurant.   David Francey is a poet for real life.  I was proud to have made his acquaintance.   

David Francey is a real person, who writes real songs about real people and real life. 

Taylor Creek

I was twenty nine when I took a bride.  I was a late bloomer, living in the California High Sierras.  I worked for several years, decided to go to college, then went to work again and found a wife.  I was searching for someone who could share in the beauty of the life I had found; someone to share in the beauty of the nature all around me.  I had only to look in my backyard.  Or, at least, in my parents backyard.
 

My wife was not a country girl.  I met her in college, moved away and found her again through winter letters, written by my heart in solitude.  She responded in kind.  Our hearts just gravitated towards each other like a seed to fertile ground.

She was a southern California girl, raised in the big city with grocery stores and shopping malls.  The only wild animals she ever saw were the spiders that haunted her backyard or on the occasional trip to the zoo.  But she fell in love with me and said she would go wherever I took her.

My wife moved in with me on my grandmother’s birthday.  June 24^th.  My grandmother would have been 84 had she not died four days earlier.  But I brought my wife to my apartment in a little High Sierra town surrounded by forests.  From our living room window you could see the ducks landing on the meadow across the street.  We could hear the squirrels and chipmunks scurrying up the pine trees to grab the nuts from the pine cones.  Occasionally a deer would wander through the meadow.  I was happy to share these gifts with my wife.  A love together is a wondrous thing.  And throughout the summer our love grew. 
 

By the fall she was beginning to feel at home in the mountains.  It was then that I decided to take her out to the stream profile museum at Taylor Creek, just off Highway 89.  I tried to explain to her what she could expect to see.  I told her that the salmon were running upstream.  She laughed as she tried to picture salmon “running” as she explained.  “Cause they don’t have feet”.

We pulled into the parking lot, paved-over meadow lot, used by hikers in the summer and cross country skiers in the winter.  The lot was surrounded by various types of pine and fir trees.  On this particular day, it was just my wife and I, and the forest service employee who was stationed there for the entire month of October to guard the salmon in the stream. I think the forest service was also there to warn the human visitors that there may be bears about due to the abundance of delicious, nutritious fish.  It was always wise to be wary of bears in the Sierras.

We parked our car on the southern edge of the parking lot near the stream.  I didn’t want to be too far from the car just in case a bear, or bears, were in the area.  We got out of the car and walked to the edge of the lot.  The lot was constructed on a piece of ground above the stream bed.  We could hear the water of the stream as we got out of our vehicle.  I led her to the edge of the parking lot.  We stood there looking over the stream bed.  The edge of the stream was lined with hundreds of kokanee salmon.  Other salmon were swimming upstream to complete their life cycle.
 

I turned my head momentarily to watch a bird fly through the trees around us and to soak in the natural beauty of nature’s spectacle.  I turned to my wife and I could see tears in her eyes.  I reached out, put my arm around her and asked if she was ok.  She said that she was saddened by the end of their lives.  I told her that is was natural for them to die like this.  They had just finished mating and laying their eggs in the stream.  There were hundreds of these salmon on the side of the stream and thousands more making their way upstream.  I told her this was the way of  nature and they have been living and dying this way for thousands of years.

She turned and thanked me for showing her the beauty of the world.  I explained that it was my pleasure.  She had enjoyed her life in Lake Tahoe.

We moved away three years later.  But we are making plans to return there to finish our lives as close to Taylor Creek as we can get.   

D.

The Greatest Job of My Life.

March, 1989 was the beginning of one of the greatest times of my life.  My wife and I had been married for over a year and each day I woke up loving her more than the day before.  During this time I decided, we decided that we were ready to take on more responsibility.

I was looking for a new job.  I embraced this job gladly, happily, with no misgivings, even knowing I had no experience.  But I was confident that I could do it.  I had seen so many others try it before me and I was ready to try it myself.  It has turned out to be the toughest, yet most rewarding job I have ever had. 

The job I applied for was "Dad".  I became a Dad on December 26, 1989.  It was a wonderful experience.  Every day since then has proven to be enjoyable and rewarding.  I thank my children for allowing me to pursue this remarkable journey.