Tag Archives: Family

Time Passages

I hope that I can keep track of what’s important.

That is, I find myself concerned a bit as, even while things go according to plan, I become anxious about the plan sometimes. This move has been different than previous moves for me…much different. Obviously, there’s the fact that I’m now moving a family of three, which is logistically an undertaking comparable to any traveling concert production, I’m convinced. Practically, this is also the biggest move I’ve ever done in regards to distance.

Also, though, this has been the biggest move in regards to emotional repercussions. I became extremely sad at one point during the process, and it lingered for days. I’m still not entirely certain why, but it was almost like I was grieving something. Maybe I’ll have an epiphany later.

As I’ve experienced this dramatic change in place, I’ve also experienced a profound shift in perspective on permanence. That is, I’ve began to recognize that certain things that felt permanent to me are in fact hopelessly temporary, and that what is critically important is, in fact, permanent. The career that I’m changing from was unduly stressful in its own right, but I had come to regard its daily schedule with a sense of permanence because of the comfortable income that it provided. Although we lived in an apartment that, by definition, is not a permanent home, I had come to regard the little routines and patterns there with a sense of permanence that not only belies my distaste for routine, but were also a practical way of staving off the chaos. I think that part of my struggle with this move has been trying to stay on top of being a parent and writer and (once again a) student in the midst of a set of systems that no longer work and have to be re-vamped or entirely replaced. Those systems, which allowed me to keep track of what had to be done and kept mine and Karen’s sanity, though, were very, very temporary things, designed for a temporary place that served us during temporary conditions.

For years, we were in holding pattern, wondering “what next?” in our lives.

And, now that we’re moving forward at long last, I’ve had an irrational difficulty letting go of the temporary. That is, the physical has been threatening to overwhelm the spiritual. What placed this into unyielding perspective, though, was two days ago in the back yard, as I pushed our daughter in a swing. As she giggled with delight and glided to and fro, she made extended eye contact with me, all smiles, her deep eyes communicating a wealth of information.

What they told me that afternoon was, “I trust you, Daddy.”

That’s permanent. Very, very permanent. Whatever transient circumstances and events rotate through our lives, my wife and daughter, and the responsibilities that I have to them, are permanent. They are persistent. They are pervasive.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Boston, Here We Come

In the interest of keeping in check with the goals that I set in my obligatory New Year’s goals post, I am  about to make a carefully calculated, really big, and more-than-a-little scary dive into changing careers for my day job. I’ve made my living in various aspects of behavioral health for the last eleven years, with some writing and other projects thrown in to keep life interesting. While I’ve worked very hard to incorporate creative elements (mostly theatre) into my work, I need something that will allow me to be more creative during the day, in order to keep the creative juices flowing at night for my writing. Also, health care is becoming a difficult arena to navigate, and I’m essentially being forced out slowly due to credentialing requirements with which I no longer have the motivation to keep in step.

So, the career change is about to happen, by way of a few months of very specific skill training. I’m about to turn my geek-self from being a hobby to being a living in the realm of web development. In order to acquire that training, we’re re-locating to the Boston area next month.

This is exciting and scary, because the financial investment is not a small one, but Karen and I both love Boston. This will be a good move, I’m convinced, and now the proverbial cat is out of the bag and I can stop dropping cryptic hints in my posts.

I don’t plan for this to change the topics that I write about here, except that I will now have a whole new spectrum of inspiration from which to draw.

So, the next few months are going to be really interesting! The next phase in the adventure begins in August!

Stormy Easter Silence

Easter this year involved a visit to my parents, who, living in a rural area several hours north of us, continue to experience the power outage issues that I’ve mentioned before when inclement weather arrives. And, as you might have imagined with the severe weather bands pushing their way across the U.S. lately, it arrived. The power subsequently left. There was some talk about how annoying severe weather in Spring can be, and how it has turned dangerous, especially of late…several friends and at least one family member have experienced near misses from the tornado activity in the American Southeast over the last two weeks. I commented that Spring is about re-birth, and birth is a violent event, so its fitting that the weather should be…well, passionate. Given what Easter celebrates, the tumultuous weather involved in this re-birth just seems appropriate.

A few years ago, when I walked through Passion Week in daily reflections, I came to the conclusion that Saturday was a very quiet day. Ironically, or perhaps providentially, our Saturday with the family became quiet, as well, right around 8:30 that night. That’s when one lightning flash too many plunged their street into a blackout, and we spent the remainder of the evening in candlelight and the occasional flashlight beam.

We also had the most amazing laughter. Laughter like I haven’t had with Karen since we were dating, to be honest…the entire family was rolling with one hilarity after another, and the conversation was the best of the weekend. There was no television, limited Internet (Karen wasn’t giving up the iPad for me to check Twitter), and leaving the room for this or that was significantly more complicated that usual. Even reading a book was difficult in the wavering candlelight, and there was no choice but to engage fully with each other for the remainder of our waking moments of the evening.

All because the superfluous stimuli had been removed.

Karen and I don’t do cable. The advantage to watching everything via Hulu or Netflix is that we watch intentionally: when we want to see something, its on, and when we don’t, there is no white noise. As my parents still do cable, I noticed that that it was difficult to have substantive conversation with the television on, because it was staying on in the background the entire evening of our arrival. A few weeks ago, I experienced a more exaggerated version of the same problem when Karen and I were at a sports bar with some friends. There were no less than twelve television screens surrounding our dining area, loud music notwithstanding. I was facing my friend from only across the table, but had significant difficulty understanding him because I kept being distracted by the hockey game appearing twelve feet tall on the projection screen across the room. And I don’t even watch hockey.

Even without the television, Saturday morning was spent with my father and I in the same room, him reading the paper and me catching up on news feeds and blogs over coffee. We didn’t  really engage with each other for the better part of an hour after saying “good morning” (okay, that might be somewhat due to my not being a morning person).

Sometimes I think of the illegal off-switches in the world of Max Headroom, and think we might not be far off. I know that I had the opportunity to experience the quiet of the Saturday before Easter, celebrating a most precious holiday with our family, engaging with them at a completely different  depth because the noise had been quieted for us, in a way that forced us to accept that quiet for several hours. I am thankful for that, because it made the celebration of Easter morning so much sweeter…as though the quiet had forced anticipation of the sunrise.

Imagine how blissful more quiet could be.

I hope you had a blessed Easter.

Photo Attribution: rsvstks

Free Standing

Here’s something you wouldn’t believe: When I was young, I was narcissitic.

No, no, its true. To call me self-absorbed wouldn’t have been giving my high-school identity crisis nearly enough credit. I was a musician. I was an actor. I dressed sharp and hung out with the preppy, popular group (if it makes your brain hurt to try to understand how I reconciled those things, don’t worry…it does mine, as well).

Those days are long gone, and at a wise and proven 35 years of age, I’ve seen the error of my ways. For example, the time when I voluntarily “dressed up” has been cast by the wayside. I’ve left more serious symptoms of self-absorption behind, as well. At that age, I was far too focused on being civilized and engaging in “higher,” creative, and academic sorts of things to be bothered with household chores. I helped out only with much groaning and attitude, and never enjoyed it. Growing up in a rural area brought its share of outdoor, agricultural sorts of chores, all of which I loathed. I promised myself and loudly declared to all others that I would not live in this “Farmer Joe” lifestyle in adulthood, because the convenience and fast-paced lifestyle of the city called my name.

To be honest, I have no idea what a farming lifestyle would entail, because that certainly was not what I grew up experiencing. I did keep my promise to be an urbanite in adulthood…civilization for me is defined by how many Starbucks I can drive to in 5 minutes or less. What I have not carried over…or, at least, what I am beginning to lose…is my self-absorption.

This leads me to a sort of active repentance when Karen and I visit my parents. My father now walks with a cane due to a old back injury and other medical issues. I find myself anxious to help him with anything that might require assistance around the house when we visit. Carrying a piece of outdoor furniture? No problem. Take out the trash and bring in the paper? I’m all over it. Things that are even an inconvenience for me in our own home are not when visiting my parents. Each visit brings a new bout of zealous penance.

This Christmas was marked by a nasty little windstorm that did significant damage to the local infrastructure and took the power with it immediately after Christmas dinner. Power wasn’t restored for several hours. This isn’t entirely uncommon in the snowy, rural North East, and so my parents and their neighbors come prepared. It was time to fire up “the generator.”

For the uninitiated, “the generator” is essentially a gasoline powered engine that sits in the gardenhouse, and, when running, sends electricity through a line into the home, which is then used to power critical appliances (yes, I consider a coffee pot critical), lighting, and so on for the duration of a power outage. That’s a bit of a challenge for my father to manage, and I was anxious to stop grumbling about the outage and be a part of the solution. Even therein, however, lay things that my father stubbornly steadfastly pursued on his own, occasionally worsening his health for the weekend, but arguing with me over my offers of assistance. Eventually, I will just back down. I won’t let this turn into a real dispute.

I understand fully my father’s desire to hold onto his independence. I do. I also recognize, however, that none of us are capable of doing everything without requiring assistance with something. Life just isn’t a solo sport. In looking at this (occasionally humorous) dynamic over our Christmas weekend together, however, I’ve also realized that there are times when we need to permit others to help us even when we don’t need it, because they need to help us. I needed to be forced to help as a child, even when my father was more than capable of doing everything himself (he is, after all, Superman…didn’t you know?), because I needed to learn that responsibility. I did learn it in the end, but I wouldn’t be constantly overcoming my feelings of guilt now had I done so then.

Perhaps I will be able to make progress toward shedding some of the rugged independence of our Western culture that can, at times, be damaging to us in the end…especially when I can see that voluntarily doing so will be of assistance to another human being. In seeing what I’ve seen this weekend, I’m certainly going to try to at least strike a balance.

Hopefully without any further power outages in the process.

Here’s hoping your Christmas was blessed.

Photo Attribution: