Friday, August 28, 2015
Insert Nonthreatening Title Here
I often feel like I should issue the boys one all-encompassing "I'm Sorry" for how messed up this world has become. As I look at media, social and otherwise, I see so little that isn't negative and mean. There's a shit-ton of ugly in this world - you've got to understand that, and come to terms with it.
Racism, gun control, abortion, women's health rights... the list never ends
I suppose I have a position on all of these things, perhaps not the one you'd like or expect me to.
However, I write in a public forum and the vitriol and hate from those who have a view different from mine is something that I cannot and will not abide. So, I keep those opinions to myself, for the most part. If you were a careful reader around here I'd bet you could guess at my leanings on most issues and you'd be right.
To be honest, though, I am a little wishy-washy on some things. It is more than likely that fear is what keeps me from taking bold stands and high-grounded moral judgements. It's stupid but I want you to like me and not yell at me. Also, there's this - positions change, mine has on these very issues and so many more.
Here's a good example - I hated cargo shorts when they first came to the forefront of men's shortswear. I thought they were ugly and clunky and made my butt look big. I bought some all the same at Costco 'cause they were real cheap. Just days after I bought them I stowed something in them, a box of raisins, I recall, and before long I was shoving bottles and sippies, soothies and little wooden screwdrivers, acorns and acorn berets, sparkly quartz stones and plain essential good-old-fashioned stones, sticks and pine cones and once a bird nest. I changed my mind about cargoes profoundly, flip-flopper that I am.
And that's sorta the point here.
I once lived for football, now I love baseball.
I used to like Queen Anne's Lace and now I like purple clover.
I was once against cumin and now I choose it over chili powder.
Once Chevy, now Ford.
I hate hooded sweatshirts, or used to, now I write posts about them.
I once took the road less traveled... then I didn't... then I did again.
So, I am not always sure how things are gonna fall, so I figure it's best to not get all involved and opiniony around here. Mind you, it's not because I lack conviction or a moral compass, it's just that on occasion logical, sometimes impassioned, thinking, has led me to a different conclusion. That's the reason I tell folks when they ask me why I don't take on politics or take a stand on issues here.
That's a lie, though, really.
The real reason is I don't want you to come here in twelve or twenty-five or fifty years and see the hate and pain and rudeness and ugliness that this medium, blogging, can bring down.
It's horrible and I don't think you, our sons, need to see it... yet.
I am beginning - to further prove my point - to think I have been wrong in sheltering you from the gunshots and slurs and misogyny and pontification that are sadly going to partly define your childhood. I thought I should only show you good, protect you from the worst of it all, shine the light on the "helpers," as Mr Rogers called them, let you have your carefree happy boyhood for at least a while. But now, as you begin to see these things, you have no defense to them and I see your defensive walls of innocence cracking and starting to crumble. I'm sorry for that.
You Know? No, I don't regret that. Ugly is not hard to understand and quickly comprehended, darkness is obvious as fuck. But beauty, well, that's a little harder to grasp and must be considered through time and space, light is nuanced and is where all the colors live and love.
So what, you are asking, if I didn't lose you over the cargo shorts thing, will you take a stand on? What positions are true to me, constant?
Hope. Heritage. Memories. Love. Kindness. Decency... and, well, baseball.
Here are a few cars Nick made from stuff in the big craft box. He put down his Kindle and worked on these for hours a couple or three weeks ago. I'm not sure why. I am glad he did.
This was his first one, I call it the "Net Car" because my mind needed a name for it.
This one seemed, frankly a little, well... lame. but then I was trying to get a better picture of it and this happened:
Pretty cool, huh?
Finally, this one got painted with some left-over spray paint.
It's my favorite. I used some filter or lens watchgidget and this happened:
It looks like it is racing towards the sun like a phoenix.
Actually, this sun.
Zack drew it when he was maybe three. It's a perfect example of the living and loving that is only seen in the light, in the right, perfect light that reflects from them into me and back to them again.
This all gets missed in the dark, in the ugly, in the mean, in the hate.
From Marci's "... things you don't expect to hear from the backseat ..."
"Not now, I'm busy licking my pancake."
Thanks for stopping by, it means a lot to me. I know most of you understand that I am mostly trying to leave this whole thing as a gift to my family, as a legacy for the boys. I fail sometimes at that, sometimes I get a little too preachy, maybe sometimes a little too silly. But, ya know what? This is my 400th published post and that's a lot of chances to mess up.
Peace to you and yours, and hey, drive the funny, bright red car of trash into they beautiful setting swirly sun and see what you come back as. Better's my guess.