It’s cold and bleak out there this morning.  Seems like every morning…and afternoon…and evening…and especially nighttime.  Always seems so close to nighttime.

When will it end?  When will it ever end?

The winds blow cold and hard, pushing all that happens to be in the way; relentless, howling, unnerving.

The sun has forgotten how to shine and cast its warmth.  It will not emerge to offer hope for a new and warming day ahead for us.

Precipitation falls as snow, then rain, and then returns to snow again.  Covering the ground and covering the tracks of all of the creatures who dare roam the killing frost of day and night.

The moon, full and eerie, casts a reflected light down and then again off of the frozen surface of the too many snowfalls, cold and hard but illuminating enough for those creatures who roam the night in search of sustenance and furthering life.

The sounds and the sound.  The echo is a dead echo and the sound the sound of the tomb.  Feet break through the frozen surface of some newly fallen crust of snow that has frozen over just enough to offer resistance to those who would tread there, lightly or otherwise.  Try to run but you won’t get far- it is too slick and far too deep and is nothing else but dangerous.

Temperatures that will kill.  Heat can do the same over time but this cold, this bitter, lifeless, brutal cold will kill, can kill, in a very short amount of time.  All that was life before may be no more after such a spell as we have had.  We will, still, have to wait and see what survives it.

Warmer days have always come to chase away the bonechill and make us well again.  But must that always be so?  Could it come to pass that one time, perhaps even this time, the cold will stay to keep us in or kill us if we wander out?  Must we stay locked in our quarters not only for this season but for all of the rest as well?

It could happen.  No one knows when the sun may blink away or the earth repeal its spin.  And then we would be forced finally to stay inside and shiver until even that was not enough to save our very bones.

Keep those in power long enough and we will all feel it soon enough.

We live in a house on a well and septic.  What we take from the ground we return to the ground when we are done with it.  Total recyclation.

I make the coffee in the house every morning and try to do so without one of the dogs getting too excited and waking everyone.  I try to be quiet and I hope I remembered to grind enough beans the day or two before.  Yes, I have returned to grinding my own.  Brewing my own, rolling my own, grinding my own.  (Just kidding on one of those, kids.)  I buy the beans from Costco for a decent price and then grind them at home to release all that fresh coffee yumminess.

So I rinse the pot and toss out the old grounds.  I start the water running into the empty and sort-of-clean pot, put a new cone filter into the basket, and then put in 6 or 7 scoops of recently-ground goodness.  When I get the water to the right level I then carefully, slowly, pour it into the reservoir.  If all goes well, as it usually does, the water goes in smoothly and I place the top back on the pot, slide it back on top of the warmer, and hit the GO button.  Ten minutes later I have my first cup of tasty jove.  The world, and the morning, are good.

Sometimes there is a slight hitch though.  Sometimes the water seems to actually catch, or stick, on the spout of the pot as I try to pour it.  Instead of going where it should then it tends to go all over the area around the reservoir opening, down the side of the pot, and then all over the counter.  There is no telling when the water gets sticky but it really pisses me off when it does.

Other things?

I often try to make sure I am lifting my foot over something like a boot on the garage or a tall pile of papers in the office.  Try as I might, focus as I will, I still manage to kick the object I am actually trying to avoid.  This was once called “Golden Slippers” by those who knew me best.  My own father used to comment on my very graceful moves.  Yes, kicking stuff over when I am trying my very best to avoid it does piss me off.  Even more when I trip to boot.

I simply love using the snowblower (I think they call it snow thrower nowadays- some PC reason I guess) on a very cold morning when the wind is blowing.  Without fail a majority of what I try to blow away blows back on me making me even more crusty than I typically tend to be.  Oh, and then my good friend the plow truck driver usually decides to fly by at around 50-60mph, burying then end of my driveway in a new and thick coat of thickly packed snow all the while with sparks flying from his mighty blade as it rips at the poor concrete of the already blistering road.  All this makes a nice start to the day.

Or how about that real-quick thing you need to do on the PC before you have to rush off somewhere?  That is often when the darn thing decides to get bogged down in a backup or process a Windows update (God I hate Microsoft- when will I ever use Apple again??) or just simply hang up.  Or maybe the printer decides to go offline and nothing reboots faster than an HP printer eh?  All things to drive anyone to that home-brew or self-rolled stress relief treatment.

Maybe it’s when you’re rushing to get dressed and the final foot hooks on your jeans or underwear and, if you’re lucky, you have something to grab on to before you crash to the floor and have to explain the concussion to your wife, your family, your boss…the paramedics.  Yep, nothing but fun.

Smack your head on the hard corner of an opened cabinet door lately as you straightened up?

Cruising across a carpeted floor in the middle of winter on a very dry day and then discharging all that charge you built up to the light switch or, even better yet (!), to the lips of your spouse as you try to give a quick kiss before leaving the house.  Near-electrocution is a truly memorable experience especially when you do it over and over and over again!

Stepping off the ladder after many tiring hours of painting and almost tasting that first cold brew as you feel your foot go right into the paint pan or can.  Haven’t done that?  Think I have?

Pulling a wad of wet clothes out of the washer, playing the helpful hubbie, and before you get them into the safety of the dryer a near-wad falls on to the laundry room floor that was recently very clean until the dog tracked in a bunch of slush from the great outdoors.  Mmm-mmm good.

On and on.

The end of my fingers splitting in the winter and turning to a bloody mess when I try to play basketball with my kids.  Dropping my kids off at school only to get a call a bit later asking me to return to drop something off that one of them forgot.  Fixing the dishwasher only to have the furnace start to make some new and interesting noises.  (In fact, having to fix anything that I just recently fixed.)  Trying to keep on a regular workout schedule and lose some weight in the process but having the scale constantly mocking me.  Knocking a full (never almost empty) cup of coffee over and on to all those important papers on my desk AND on to my computer keyboard early in the morning when I just got up early to get a head start on the day and get caught up a bit.  Having a mechanic tell you he just can’t hear it now.  Having a branch on a tree swipe the hat off my head as I pass underneath on the mower.  Finding a puddle of colored liquid on the floor of the garage after my wife leaves for work.  And more and more and still more.

Paying taxes and wondering what I get for all that government charity.

Asking who in our pitiful Congress will one day stand up and be able to start the roll back of the bureaucratic monstrosity created right under our very noses. No response expected.

Worrying about the crap that the schools try to pass off as education in this country and trying my best to protect my kids from the harm and ultimate indoctrination now practiced well down into the lower grade levels.

Coming to the sad conclusion that there is so very little objective reporting, and almost no objective investigative reporters, left and nothing near an unencumbered media any longer.  They have all mostly sold out, are completely despicable, and should bear a scarlet letter evermore.

Wondering when, again, we will ever have a President who believes in and follows the Constitution and also a Supreme Court that works to protect that sacred (there I said it) from ultimate de-construction or even eventual destruction.

Guessing when the American people will finally get it and wise up and rise up before it is just too damn late to do anything about any of it anymore.

And more and more and still more.

Some things piss me off for sure.  Other things not only piss me off, they scare me half to death.

Big things are envisioned; they are the stuff of dreams.  More often than not they are the stuff of the dreams of the young.  When we get older the dreams tend to fade into reality and they are too soon no more.  Not in all of us though.

My kids dream of big and wondrous things.  At the Baseball Hall of Fame one of my sons took a picture of one of the blank plaques and said that one day it would be his plaque hanging on that spot.  Another son plans to be a lawyer and have a cabin in the hills in Tennessee.  At their age and with their capabilities each dream is big but neither dream is completely out of reach.  But how to get there?

How does a coach become great?  How about a teacher?   Does either start out with a desire to be great and with a plan on how to get there?

I believe that the path to greatness has to start with a dream, a desire to get there.   Things start to move when that desire meets with a growing commitment to (also) get there.  I don’t know if an exact plan is necessary as much as the fact that the desire and commitment, once mated, work to drive a person toward excellence.  So we need a word for this pairing of desire and commitment.  Let’s just call it drive.

Some vehicles can rely on dual sources of drive and so it is I think with human drive.  Most times it is the commitment that provides the progress and, at times when the commitment may wane or the person tire of the effort, desire kicks in and provides the necessary propulsion.  Things may stall or even sometimes seem to stop but the journey is never abandoned.

Effort is the fuel here.  A person can want to be great and can feel they are committed to get there but he really needs to provide a constant stream of steady effort.  There needs to be at least some fuel in the tank.  At times great levels of effort are needed to provide the energy needed to overcome the steep grade presented by a setback or unplanned and unwelcomed result.

“When the going gets tough…”

I wish I had had the knowledge in youth that I possess now and I wish I had the ability to dream big today that I possessed in youth.  That should be what parents help to provide.  But only the individual can make the commitment and provide the effort.  Some got it and some don’t but I believe more got it and just don’t get the help to know it and develop it before the time has passed.

Maybe that is what makes a great coach or teacher.  Maybe that is what makes a great parent.  The ability to help others to find and pursue their dreams; the capability and commitment to help them along in the journey; the patience to spend time on some of the little things that help them to get past resistance and disappointment; the infectious spirit to make them believe anything is possible but the life experience to know dream from unobtainable fantasy; the love of what they do; and the deep caring for those under their tutelage and care.

It is about the moment- what can I do here and now to help move myself or someone else along the way to greatness?  Can I teach a child to do a math problem and in the process also teach them a little about how to figure it out in the future for himself; can I teach a player a new dribble move and instill in him the confidence to then use it in a game and not be discouraged if it isn’t perfect the first few times; can I build up my child to be independent on the one hand but also to know on the other that I will always be there to show love and support; can I do little things every day myself to make me a bit better and move me closer to my dream?

And if I don’t have a dream or lost the one I had along the way then maybe, just maybe, I can dream up a new one and get along again.

The big things are envisioned, they are the stuff of dreams.  But getting there is all about getting the little things done.

So go and dream and then get started getting those things done.  Maybe there is still time if you just don’t wait any longer.

Almost enough about the weather already but, okay, I’ll allow just one more.

It is Wednesday now and the sun is STILL out and shining and it is a bit warmer then yesterday.  But it is very, very windy.  I have been out for a ride today and am feeling better about some things and not so sure or good about others.  I am parked now in my driveway and using this portable computer (some call it a laptop but I long ago quit using it that way due to very hot batteries) to compose today’s entry. 

This is now the third day and, for three days, assuming that I post this one, I will have posted an entry on to this blogpad.  Hey, for me that almost amounts to success.  For in all the very little I have achieved in my life this may rank right up there with the best of the mediocre.  Wonder how I’ll be feeling if I hit four or even five days in a row.

I may even attempt a double entry one day soon- not sure I’ll be able to handle that much productivity though.  Will need to tough it out.

So what’s with the stars and what’s with the stripes and what has that to do with anything associated with the name of this site?  Or even with any of the entries posted so far, these three (yes, that’s right, I said three!) days in a row?

Heck, I’m not sure that I know y’know? 

Perhaps it had something to do with how I once felt about this country- not feeling that much anymore.  Maybe it had to do with the sense of pride I used to feel when seeing the flag and hearing the anthem- how quaint and so 19^th century.  Or it could be that, to me, one represents the beginning as the other trends toward the eventual (imminent?) ending.

Stripes then (there are 13 right?) and stars now (all 50, red or blue, left or right, big or small, contiguous or otherwise..)  Does that even make any sense?  If not then I am sorry.

I think that I am more of a stripe kind of guy.  I managed somehow to know a good bit of history so have been able for the most part to see around and through all that which tends to get bent or even twisted depending on the what, where and whofrom associated with the sender.

History.  How quaint, how useless, how, well, 19^th century.

How much do you know?  Can you give a decent rundown of the major successes and failings of the centuries?  What worked and what did not?  Or do you just repeat what you hear from your favorite media source or college professor?  Beware the past lest you play the rerun. 

So stars, so stripes.  Wave it still does.  And today it does so in the chilling cold of coming winter.  I see tatters and I see tears (is that a tare tear or a tier tear?)  I see what was and what may be coming and I worry that confidence can decay and success can fully wither when what was known no longer is.   Tread with care, live near fear.  Beware the Ides of March.

It’s a new day, a different day and with it comes a different view.

It is no longer Monday but is now, surprisingly, Tuesday.  It is no longer snowing but there is still a good bit of snow, for early November at least, on the ground.  But not on the streets, or the sidewalks, or driveways…the sun is out and although the air temperature is still a bit below freezing the sun is out and that solar warmth is absorbed below by the asphalt and the concrete and has melted the snow cover that was so recently there.  Some of what is out there still lies covered but some lies bare.

It is a different day, a new day and it is clear; and sunny; and looks warm through the windows.

Some of the sunniest days in my rather extended memories happened to happen on some of the coldest days.  It looks so warm through the windows, out there, outside of here.  Even the glass is slightly warm to the touch on such days even through the wind and bitter blow.   Brrr but it’s warm today.

Sometimes it is all about appearances isn’t it?

A long time ago I wondered what it would be like and now, today, in so many ways, I know.  Sometimes it was a surprise and sometimes not.  Sometimes I knew just how it would feel and with that often came a letdown- nothing new, nothing different…just as I knew it would be.

But sometimes there are surprises.  Sometimes good ones, sometimes not.  Sometimes seen, sometimes not.  Sometimes welcome and sometimes not.  Just surprises.

I once knew a man who thought he had it all- and I did as well.  The only thing that he seemed to find out as time went on was that it wasn’t really all or nothing, just something less than all and something more than nothing.  He seemed sad to finally, one day, realize this, but he kept on, trying to rebuild all from something other than nothing.  I lost touch with him and often wonder if he was successful.  I’d imagine he was at least partially so, having had it all and having come from not much more than nothing.

And so it is sometimes with days like these that follow on from days like those, from a day like yesterday.  If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was a nice, warm day and you might just head outside, calendar be damned, in just your favorite jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.  And just as you’re ready to step out and enjoy the day that early blast of arctic air hits you and you pause, perhaps shiver a bit, and take note- it isn’t as you imagined it would be.  So then now has arrived a new choice, do you see?

In fact, there are a few, even several.  And that’s usually the case in most things if you really think about it.  And time is much more friendly when there are still choices to be had, and choices still left to be made.