A Day in the Life of Chaos

Day Light Savings Time is horrible on so many levels.   Most of the world doesn’t copy us in our bi-annual American tradition.   Every year the news stories tell us our politicians are trying to end it yet it never comes to pass.   It is a relic of trying to save energy during a World War.   The spring forward, fall back torture continues year after year forcing us to change clocks and deal with interrupted circadian rhythms.   It means I drive home in the dark.   In Alaska growing up it was worse.   In the dark of winter you only had 6 hours of daylight and changing the clocks meant decreasing the daylight window on both ends.   As a child I lived in dark.   I went to school in the dark.   I came home in the dark.   I might catch a glimpse of the sun through a school window if I was lucky.   Summers were the only respite when we lived on the excess light.   These past few years have revealed what is likely the most diabolically evil reality of daylight savings that has proved to be

Today a couple of my coworkers with ages close to half mine asked me what I would do retired.  Do I have a hobby?  Like do I like to build models or something? One suggested submarines; I don’t know why.  I immediately thought about an odd coworker I once had who would build WW2 models in his house while his equally odd children were homeschooled.  I always imagined him hunched over with one of those extendable magnifying glasses putting the final touches on an SS officer standing beside his Panzer tank.   My visions then led me to the Illinois Nazi in the Movie “The Blues Brothers” who in one scene is sitting at a desk painting a ceramic eagle.  I didn’t really know how to answer the question. I really don’t have any hobbies.  I wish I did, but they take so much space and I don’t even know what interests me.   I told him maybe I would become a re-enactor.   I was joking but honestly it seems like it would be fun in a guy sort of way.  On second thought, maybe I don’t want to go sit i

  As you age everyday is a mystery.  In the morning you wake up and like a computer booting up do a systems check.  Knee working, back not hurting, headache nope feel fresh, urinary system functioning, the list goes on… everything okay… check… it’s going to be a good day.  Then the morning routine kicks in.  A handful of pills and a cup of coffee.   Salvador Dali At some point there is a certain realization that nothing will ever get better.  When you have a car you can at least buy a new set of tires.  There is a good chance that they will work as good as the original ones if not better.  Every time I have to replace some part of my house I always ask the service man how this new version of whatever I had will make my life better.  Typically they will shrug and give me a look that says, “Just wait for the bill.”  Sometimes, not to be defeated, I will pore over the service manual or promotional material and relish the smallest detail.  I definitely did this when I had to spend 13,00

  Navarone Playset When I was a young boy in the 1970’s, my  dominion was the carpet.  Between its 70’s shag fibers thousands of battles took place as my soldiers spread out in endless formations.  Bit by bit my mother’s Kirby vacuum would suck up small pieces of them.  Guns, knives, hats and scarves.  All would disappear in due course.  I treasu red my toy soldiers.   From America I had knights, cowboys, Indians and Civil War soldiers.    Green army men who would occasionally do battle against the prized Nazi’s a young friend of mine had.   His name was Shane,  and he had the best toy sets usually obtained at Christmas.   My favorite was a small mountain fortress with cannons sticking out posing as the fortress in the film "The Gun’s of Navarone."   He also had an Alamo play set filled with Mexicans and Texans.   Hamley's Regent Streat, London One Christmas morning in Alaska I awoke to find a giant playset my father had created for me.  Ever the architect he had constr

The other day I looked at death.   Not my own thankfully but in the declining health of a dear friend.   Life constantly prepares us for death in many ways.   As we age the percentage of those we know who die increases proportionately with the years.   If you own a pet, death is a regular part of our life.   Animals unfortunately have lifespans far shorter than our own and we are always reminded of death when we lose a close four legged companion.   We all approach death differently.  Some of us turn away because it is simply too painful.  Some of us never let go.  We carry the weight of loss daily with us often perhaps hastening our own demise. Death is a heavy part of life and an unfortunate constant.  There is no life without death.   Last week I flew to Tampa to visit a man who has been a part of my life for 28 years.  He has been mentioned many times in the course of this blog.  He is one of those people who for one reason or another became a part of me.  A very odd man, he is