The Cheap Seats

I had a bad break-up a few months ago. I was hurting, a bit lost really. And I was reminded again that letting go, or being let go is its own form of death. The obvious difference is that both parties know the other still exists and is out in the world continuing to put one foot in front of the other, living their life. The stark commonality, however, is a searing absence.     For weeks afterward, I shuffled uncertainly forward. My strategy was simple - keep busy, maintain a steady thrum of background noise to the soundtrack of my life. So, dutifully, I crammed my calendar full of events and activities both trivial and distracting. Fortunately, the holiday season was approaching and diversions (both required and elective) would present themselves almost daily. I've lived enough years to know that the biggest obstacle to making a break-up permanent is idealizing the former relationship. One or both parties is experiencing an excruciatin...

'Twas the night before the night before Christmas, way up at the Pole, all the elves were on duty, each one with a goal. The Fat Man's quota was clear, they had a deadline to meet. "He's a _______ slavedriver!" the Head Elf did tweet. The children's wishes this year, dreamed up in their heads, were sure to put the Workshop's ledger deep in the red. So Santa called a meeting, and banged on his gavel. "Time for retraining boys, or Christmas will unravel!" "These days kids want gizmos and gadgets galore, to post, text and skype - and it seems much, much more.  I can't say no - you know hard that would be for a soft, sentimental old elf just like me."   So the University of the Arctic was quickly constructed, elves tuition paid - "don't worry boys, all tax-deducted." But the grumbling was audible, the feelings were bitter. "I better see a refund," the Head Elf announced via ...

When did it all start to go wrong? Please don't say, " Bad things happen " or " There will always be evil in the world " or " Guns don't kill people, people kill people ". This is not the time to cower behind convenient cliches in a transparent attempt to invoke God's judgment or point fingers or promote and pursue a political agenda that either curbs or secures Americans' ability to purchase  firearms. But, if history is any template, that is exactly what will happen in the Land of the (get it for) Free and Home of the Blameless. And another golden opportunity, paid for with the innocent blood of children, will be missed. I want to believe the incomprehensible murder of 26 people (20 of them children between the ages of 5-7) will be our national tipping point. I want to hear our elected leaders, both Democrat and Republican, speak (with uncharacteristic honesty and sustained focus) of the cancerous trio that c...

  I lived nearly all of my childhood in the Analog Age. In other words, pre-digital - there was no such thing as VCRs, DVD players, movie rentals, Netflix or Redbox. The concept of Tivo and DVR was not only foreign, it was non-existent. If I wanted to watch something on TV, I made sure there was a TV Guide in the house.   Never was paying attention to that weekly schedule more important than at Christmastime. Classics like How the Grinch Stole Christmas , Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman aired on one of the three networks only once each year. If a show was missed, the best we could do was try again in twelve months.   One show I never missed as a kid, however, was A Charlie Brown Christmas . I read Peanuts daily, and the sweet story of Charlie Brown's struggle to understand the true meaning of Christmas in the face of mass commercialism during the modern holiday season connects with people to this day. Combined w...

For all the words I put down on "paper" each week, I'm not that bright. Oh sure, I can rhyme on a dime, jot down some ideas or anecdotes now and then and occasionally sit in judgment of other people's behavior, but I don't really know how to "do" anything. I have always admired and been amazed by anyone who can "tinker". You know the type - the guy who pulls the engine out of his car, takes it completely apart and then reassembles it with no extra parts left over. Or the builder who constructs his own house. What?! Really? Who does that? If I were given such a task my "home" would look a lot like the birdhouse I "built" in Shop class. Suffice it to say that even squatters weren't interested in that dump. And then there are the new generation of engineers that work in the elusive areas of computer design creating networks, softwares and websites. Huh? I barely have a grasp of this Univers...