A Day in the Life of Chaos

As the 40's engulf me and lead me in a march similar to the Bataan Death March toward my 50's and beyond, I look back at the good friends in my life.  Some have moved on, some remain but there is one constant, they are all far away.  In the transitional American lifestyle a sad realty is that upward mobility means the sacrifice of relationships and the forging of new ones.  Eventually though, I just got tired somewhere along the line.  Even though I have now lived in my present home longer then anywhere since childhood I don't have anyone near me I would qualify as an "out of work" friend.  I do my best to stay in touch with my others but aside from an occasional meeting we all exist mostly in our own worlds of life, work and family. Modern technology however has ushered in an era of bizarre companionship.  We have all heard tails of the lonely souls that live their entire life with friends they have never met on Facebook or the internet.  Relationships that are

It is impossible to know how much we influence our children but suffice it to say, we do.  It happens in a subtle way and often goes unnoticed.  It manifests itself in ways impossible to see let alone count.  It can be viewed in the way we dress, the way we live, our political or religious beliefs.  Sometimes it can be found in a our very personalities. I suppose it is the old nature vs. nurture argument.  Nature creates the canvas of what we are yet it is our lives and those around us that paint upon it.  There is a lot of good about me.  I am a kind person and I care for those around me.  I am spiritual and intellectual.  I am reflective and sometimes funny.  I can be creative and intense.  I love the natural world and I try to live life as positive and accepting as I can be.  While these are the traits I hope my child finds in himself there are others I hope he will not.  I curse myself when they creep out and wish I had kept them hidden away. I grew up with a stepfather who lov

As spring gradually envelopes the South a particular time of year is closing in.  It is moving like Godzilla trampling a Japanese village with results both erratic and final. Just off the interstate in Columbia, South Carolina, there is an access road.  The road passes in front of a menagerie of business selling everything from cars to fireworks and billboards advertising adult novelties.  Wedged between a business selling out buildings including a small lighthouse that would look lovely on my front lawn and an apartment complex is a modest building with a can collection drop and a sign advertising the Jamil Shriner Temple.  These places have always been somewhat of a mystery to me.  It is hard to get beyond the image of grown overweight men wearing a fez and driving a little car in a parade.  The place is however, a humble bastion for events as diametrically opposite as the roller derby and a gun show.  On this particular day, a giant inflatable snake sat on the front lawn and the p