A Day in the Life of Chaos

David Hockney's "Pearblossom Highway #2." As I cross the mid-point of my life and move toward third base I always find myself wondering where is home?  These thoughts have recently come brilliantly to the forefront as I not long ago made contact with a distant cousin who is in the oil industry.  He lives a life of wandering that makes my own seem humble.   While Texas is his home his journeys carry him to Russia, Egypt, Oman, Yemen, Kazakhstan and East Africa.  Oh the old saying, "Home is where the heart is." has a certain ring to it but does it really mean anything?  As human beings we associate experiences with places and they color our minds in a collage of memories.  For some these are all close to home and for others, they span the world.  I often wonder if those that never lived a vagrant life are more satisfied?  They must feel so connected to the place that they live.  Like it is a part of them and they a part of it.  Are they happy with this or do th

There I was, tired but satisfied. I soared above the clouds at thirty thousand feet wedged into my chair next to a bronzed middle-aged couple.  Wait a moment, I am middle-aged just minus the bronze.  Does that mean they remember me as a seemingly unconscious white guy?   I flew half asleep, a victim more of dragging myself out of bed at 3:30 am then a hard night drinking and gambling.   I was suddenly awakened by a snort that I summarily tried to conceal by executing another one with with eyes wide open.   The woman beside me didn't seem to take the bait as she examined me trying to determine if I was dying.  She was nervous in her own right.  Apparently she hadn't flown in twenty years and sleeping did not seem to be on her agenda.  She clutched her husband hand and likely wondered how I could be so relaxed during such a frightening moment.   Reluctantly, I was on my way home.  Just a few days earlier my seat companion had been a red neck man in his 30's.  He was

Anyone whom has been a faithful reader of this blog might remember an entry a year ago when I talked about friends and Las Vegas. Every year or so, my two best friends and I try to meet in Las Vegas for a few days. Each of us comes from life in different stages. Alfredo is a multiply married now a single childless man facing the uncertainties of retirement. Dave is closer to my age but has three kids, one overcoming cancer. With 20 years of service in his stress filled field he is also eligible for retirement in the not to distant future. Myself, I am 44 years old and well past the midpoint of my career. We all have given our lives to Federal service and each of us at this stage of life is asking questions about our futures and our pasts. We wonder if our careers have been what they should have been and question the Federal deal. We joined the Federal Government knowing we would never be rich. We decided to trade prosperity for security. A guarantee of a respectful retire

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

Lost among the many things President Ronald Reagan did to America during his eight years as president was one particular budget cutting measure.  Perhaps in these days of fiscal austerity it is good to look back to the past as a guide if for no other reason then to teach us about the ignorance of our as of yet "unmade" decisions.  Prior to Ronald Reagan you didn't see many homeless people on the streets.  Those that existed tended to live outside of society.  They were the "Hobos" of yesteryear.  America had a system of mental hospitals and for better or worse these institutions cared for and accommodated the nations mentally ill.  Reagan wanted to reduce corporate taxes and to find the money for this he had to cut the welfare state.  The result was the de-funding and closing of most of the nations large public mental hospitals.  The theory was that mental health care could be more efficiently provided by private companies.  Of course this only works with those

As we grow old we can't help but notice the effects on our bodies.  Age is not kind.  The young body is viewed as the ideal, the old body is the result of living life.  It is like an old car.  It is no longer shiny and beautiful, it doesn't run as well but while taking longer, it still gets you there.  It is almost as if we are a product.  When we are born we are wrapped in the cellophane of our mother's womb.  We enter the world free from blemish, our minds have yet to be written and our bodies yet to be scarred.  Like an annual growing from a seed we seem so free from declination.  Our flower has yet to bloom and our seeds have yet to fall.  When we do flower, in our minds we reach perfection.  As a father I remember the day when my son scarred himself for the first time.  The beautiful product once protected by plastic was no longer new.  The problem with aging is that for many of us, our bodies change yet our minds never do.  While we collect life experience and wisdo

Like everyone else I look on in horror at the pictures of Japan.  The tragedy and the pain.  The suffering people have been brought to their knees in a scene horrifically similar to the destruction of Nagasaki and Hiroshima.  Miles and miles of rubble is punctuated by fragments of still existing standing structures.  They rise from the debris defying the destruction around them yet isolated and alone.  With each day it seems like the horrors grow, thousands of bodies washing up on the shore line, lives shattered seemingly beyond repair. As if to add a punctuation mark on the horrific scene we learn of nuclear plants melting down.  It has been 66 years since the atomic bombs dropped yet once again the nuclear nightmare has returned.  It is always hard to know how to respond to suffering when you are an ocean away.  I sent some money to the Japanese Red Cross but it seems like a hallow gesture when they need so much more. Shinichi Izumi Over the years I have had a number of Japane