It's OK Little Jimmy, Santa Is Alive and Well In Las Vegas

As we leave the Christmas Holiday season and draw nigh onto the New Year I'm given pause to reflect on my holiday.  I say "my holiday" because I lived it this year. 

Life is getting shorter and full of choices, I choose to enjoy Christmas from this year forward.  Why not?  It seems like a lot of us grew up with scars and bad memories of the holidays.  They were full of stress, unfulfilled expectations, that nasty cousin with the green stuff always oozing from his nose and sometimes just plain old sheer terror.

Now, here is one of the few good things about getting older, I mean way older than 30.  If you are self-aware (just because YOU are, don't think a bunch of other people are too) you realize the nasty cousin grew up and discovered Kleenex, the parents are too old to cause harm or just plain dead, the school bully has been married for 30 years and was just murdered in his sleep by his abused and long-suffering wife and the rest of the creeps are just tooooo old to create any havoc in your life.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Enjoy, why not.  Have an egg nog, sing a stale Christmas song and say "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" really loud.  Well, now say "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" really loud-er.  The bah-hum buggers will stay humbugged and the wanna-be-happys will find a soul mate.  The world will be a better place.  Oh, don't get stupid. Don't send flowers to the bully's funeral, he deserved to burn.

Run around being happy for awhile.  It beats being unhappy and it makes the meanies crazy.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Kodachrome, you give us those nice bright colors...

On June 22, 2009 Kodak announced it would discontinue manufacturing and sale of Kodachrome film.  It is reported to be the among first color films mass-marketed for sale to the public and was available for 74 years.  It was used by millions of amateur and professional still and movie producers and created an untold number of irreplaceable images and memories.  Paul Simon's apocryphal 1973 hit by the same name now seems almost canonical for presaging the end of a legend 36 years hence. 

But this quiet rant isn't about the end Kodachrome specifically, rather it is about passing and fading in general.  It is about personal relevancy and current thinking versus a fond remembrance and regard for the past.  After all, shouldn't something that existed for 74 years and chronicled the lives of millions of people be remembered?  Maybe, but it won't, no more than Paul Simon and his memorable song will be. 

I look at those who are older than me and I can see which of them have stayed in this world and which quit living at some point and constantly regurgitate the past with vitriolic comments attached.  I am pleased to say I was there and participated in creating the world of technology that we all now take for granted...including me.  Just the same I find myself uttering phrases and longing after things that are long past, like, say, Kodachrome.  Yet I don't even own a film camera anymore and all my stuff is digital.  So what ARE these mystery things I'm talking about??

How about...

The "E Ticket" Ride

In the deep, dark past there was this thing called a ticket.  It was printed on paper.  In the case of the coveted "E Ticket" it was the crem de la crem of tickets, top of the mark, get-you-anywhere pass for any attraction in Disneyland.  Without an E Ticket (or an equivalent number of lesser tickets in your ticket book)  you were doomed to repeat Mr. Toad's Wild Ride over and over rather than enjoy the pleasures of the Class A attractions.  So, uttering the phrase "It was a real E Ticket ride" was commonly understood to mean the best, the tops, no better.  I had reason to speak this phrase recently in the company of some much younger than I and was instantly aware no one knew what the hell I was talking about.  Luckily this reference is just history-laden enough to pass as novel rather than plain old outdated and silly.  It was on the edge but I think I pulled it off...sorta...

Someone Is On The Ameche For You

OK, I admit THIS one is, to say the least, obscure.  The picture on the left shows Henry Fonda and Don Ameche in a movie about Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the telephone, among other things.  At some point in history this phrase was meant to say "Someone is on the phone for you".  The reference to Ameche rather than telephone is only obvious if you have seen this dated and now obscure pic.  Yes, I did foolishly utter this comment in reference to a phone call.  No, the receiving party did not understand it at all, not even after I explained myself.  Perhaps I should retire this one, or just have fun confusing the hell out of people saying it and risk being thought addle-pated.

420, What's That??  It's 13 Only Newer!

This one is several years past now, but still relevant.  Being the typical clueless parent I had chance one day to ask my then-teen aged son what the "420" on his baseball cap meant.  Ah, laughter all around on that one.  I was patiently informed that this was THE code name for weed, reefer, Maryjane, dope....you know....marijuana!!  Oh!  You mean 13!!  Son says, what's that??  So I'm told 420 is the time of day (not sure what time zone that is) was a time when everyone was supposed, or did, light up and have a toke.  I likewise explained 13 was a reference to the 13th letter of the alphabet (M) which of course stood for marijuana.  I didn't want to know how much weed my kid was smoking and he likely didn't want to know if or when his Pops did the nasty so the subject was closed shortly after that round of clarifying education.  I shoulda looked that one up on my own.

33&1/3 records, 8 track tapes, Bell telephones, and ANYTHING starting with "Back in the day..."

Have fun with that, celebrate your past, but always look to the future.  There is a fine line dividing interesting trivia and boorish behavior.  Stay young, stay fresh, don't let the expiration date catch up with you.  Have fun at the expense of the young, one day they will be old just like you.  One day they will say, God help them "I remember when..."

It's ALL God's Work

Life is a constant, never-ending journey full of questions without good answers...then you die. 

It is my considered opinion this reality is the fountainhead of religious belief.  The notion that there are no absolutes, true answers, fairness, justice or anything else to satisfy the needy spirit is too much to bear.  Most of all, how could a just and true God ignore ME??!!  ME of all the creatures on the planet, ME!!  The center of my universe, the person I most cherish and love, without whom the rest of the world would wither and die, the font of all knowledge...ME for God's sake.

For God's sake, get over yourself.

My personal personal fave image of The Almighty is pictured here, his finger hovering above the "smite" button, preparing to mete out the ultimate punishment to that low-life I believe so sorely deserves to suffer a horrible end.  Never for a moment to I imagine I'm the guy on the receiving end of the smiting...oh no.  Rarely does even the worst of the worst imagine he or she deserves the wrath of God to be visited on THEIR door. 

Join me in a little trip and try and imagine the following:

• The journey is the answer.
• It's OK to say "I don't know".
• Seek Knowledge not Dogma.
• Defend the weak against wrong.
• Defend yourself against harm.
• Try to do good.

Most of all, enjoy the trip, it's really all you've got. 

To attribute God to anything opens the door to the implication God is responsible for EVERYTHING.  That's a lot to bear, even for an omnipotent Deity.  It also conveniently removes personal responsibility from our shoulders and gives it back over to The Maker.  If you are the maker of fine cutlery and a soul decides to stab his family to death with one of your creations, are you a killer?  I think not, you are merely the maker.  Your wonderful, useful creation has been misused and abused but you should still be unstained.  Praise The Lord and pass the gunpowder.  Don't blame Smith & Wesson, it's the god-awful human on the other end that needs to go to Hell. 

So lately when I hear my fellow travelers railing against the world and not understanding they own it I simply say "It's all God's work".  Really what I'm saying is its ALL God's work.  The good, the bad AND the ugly.  Or maybe, just maybe, if there is a God and you are a true believer the answer is free will.  Or, if there isn't a God and you are a dreaded secular humanist then the answer is....free will. 

Score one for the irony police.

So fellow travelers, it's about the getting there.  There are no truths that won't be lies when tomorrows newspaper hits your door.  There are no lies that won't be gospel after the next election.  There is no cruelty too large that it won't make someone feel better about themselves. 

So remember, next time someone wants justice for their cause just tell them "It's all Gods work". 

Enjoy the trip, not knowing means you are still learning and still living.  Embrace the question, for the answer may never come...

I'm Trying To Think But Nothing Happens!

The immortal words of Curly Howard ring in my mind on a regular basis. 

Little over a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer.  It appears we won that fight for now.  What follows isn't inspirational, supportive, insightful or meaningful to to the brave souls who are fighting the battle against this dread malady.  It's instead a peek under the covers, a trip down the rabbit hole.

Radiation and in particular chemotherapy is a grand game of chicken.  Basically, the practitioners of this medieval art bet they can kill The Cancer Devil before they kill....you.  The idea is to suppress your immune system so they can use their magical feathers and beads to ward off the evil spirits. 

Think of the human body as a complex system with a series of primary and secondary defenses designed to redundantly fend off attack from a hostile environment.  Cancer has somehow jumped the defensive perimeter and is "inside the wire".  The only way to win is to bomb the enemy into submission, and you along with it. 

One by one you can feel your systems shutting down.  This gradual process is both physical and mental.  Things you take for granted just don't work or work at a minimal level.  If you forget to drink enough water your kidneys shut down and you die...quickly.  If you can't eat enough you lose weight faster than a bulimic Hollywood movie star and..you die.  The Shamans suck blood out of you until your veins collapse and won't give any more.  You are radiated until you glow in the dark like a radium watch.  You are loaded up with more toxic chemistry than a street junkie.

Most strangely, your mind begins to shut down.  With every new assault another system turns itself off.  Life becomes primitive and non-instinctual.  You get as close to a single-cell organism as a thinking creature can get.  Then, blessedly, it gets very, very quiet.  Thinking is out of the question, your mind doesn't want you dealing with the realities.  So one by one the lights go out until just enough is left to breathe and move. 

Every thought you ever had recedes in the shadows and squats in the darkness waiting for the nightmare to end.  Then one day you realize it has begun to end.  It doesn't happen in one day but at some point life is more worth living than just tolerating. 

This gets me to the point of origin, the place I was going.  A bunch of my memories are still hiding in mental foxholes.  I began to notice this as I was cleaning up around the house.  I have enough strength to do that now and it's sorely needed after so long a time of nothingness.  I will find something, hold it up, look confused or mutter something and my dear wife will say "I gave you that when we first met, it  was a Christmas present".  This has repeated itself many times now and my life-mate each time patiently tells me what I am holding and why it is meaningful.  It may also be a topic of discussion, someone we know or some point of reference from the past that I have forgotten.  It's like an odd little archaeological dig.  Up will pop a fragment of that pot that held my life, a piece that fits with yet another piece that is yet to be discovered. 

These memories aren't gone, they are simply hiding from sight.  At times I feel like an alien in my own life, discovering some new land or planet this was mine for the taking all along.

I owe my life to so many people, most of all to my dear wife.  So, I am off on a journey of discovery, a discovery of my self....a discovery of life.

I'm Very Sorry To Hear That

No really, now shut the hell up and cut my hair.  I'm not sure exactly when it became fashionable for total strangers to tell you their deepest and darkest secrets but I wish it would stop now.

It's just the simplest thing, I want to be treated like a stranger again.  You know, like a customer.  Friendly, detached, impersonal, efficient...ah makes me long for the day when we had waiters and waitresses and they never wore a name tag.  It's not personal, I just want to have a nice meal and enjoy the company I brung with me without having to bring the wait-person into my social circle.

Same thing with a haircut.  I'm not much of a sports fan these days but I'd lot rather hear "How 'bout those Dodgers, huh?"  than "My teen-aged son just got out of jail yesterday.  Then he went out last night and got the hell beat out of him.  He would still be in jail except I couldn't make it to court because my baby swallowed a penny and was in the hospital for 2 days, otherwise I would have told the judge not to let him out."  Just to make it a complete experience she produces her cell phone and shows me a picture of the badly beaten young lad.  

Oh yeah, I REALLY needed to see THAT.

So friends are cheap, they come with haircuts like a Cracker Jack toy.  Just make sure you don't swallow it and choke.  I didn't bother adding to the fire by expressing my own troubles.  Besides, the selfish bitch didn't ask me how I was doing! 

Please, next time, just the haircut.  We can make nice later when your son gets beat up again or some such delight.

A little off the sides please and hold the chatter...

Tempis Fugit, Dude

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun - for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax - This won't hurt."

Purported to be Hunter S. Thompson's suicide note...

Time flees dude, and this is no better example.  But Hunter was also an outstanding example of a very full life.  I don't pretend to rationalize his worst behavior nor do I glamorize his best.  There is no big message behind this clump of thinking unless you want to see one.  I am 60 years old and if I ever find out who said "The best is yet to come..." I will be tempted to dig him or her up and beat the holy crap out of him/her.

There are good things to come, nothing completely replaces youth and vitality.  The love of a good person and human hope and inspiration make ignoring the downside worth the effort.  For Hunter it seems that it was his ride and when it wasn't "E Ticket" fun anymore nothing and no one could change his mind.

So, live life like it's stolen...because it is.  As a wise person recently told me, "I'm stuck in that awkward place between life and death".  Well played, even for a quote off the back of a T-shirt. 

People love you, people need you....all that remains is for you to love and need yourself.

If you look at it at JUSSSSST the right angle....

I'm chastising myself for not expressing myself more, but then...

...if you look at it at JUSSSSST the right angle...

I'm mighty busy,
Lots to do and so little time,
I have nothing much to say right now,
There is a full moon tonight,
I have a nasty cut on my pinkie finger.

There's lots more.  You have some don't you??  Just getting to the next day and paying the bills seems like enough, but is that what you want to be remembered for?  You were a good....bill payer?  God knows in these tough times paying your own way is golden but you owe yourself more than that. 

Now, before you take THAT and use it as a reason to be even more self-absorbed and selfish that isn't the point Jocko. 

What is the point?

First, ask yourself that question, that's a good start.  It's the getting there friend, it's the trip.  It's all about who's next to you and who you have in the back seat. 

I love pontificating, so I'm going to deny myself and stop now.

We just finished our mid-term election process here in Nevada.  Sadly, it wasn't about good choices for the future so much as it was about damage control.  Don't elect THAT crazy bitch, she will kill us with that nutty crap she wants to do to us!!  Vote for that other guy, at least he hasn't totally screwed things up. 

Sigh, back to the trip...

It was my duty and privilege to do my civic duty and to help preserve the right to choose.  Was it worth the trip?  Yes, with all its potential downsides it was worth it. 

What will you and I do tomorrow that is really worth the trip? 

Just get up, put on two socks the same color, more or less, and go find out.  When you get home sit with the one you love, live with or don't even know and tell a story.  Tell the story of your day and when you do think of it as something worth thinking about and something to retell.

Be the trip, look at it jussssst right...