Kids today still hold a book.  E-Readers have not yet been able to replicate a pop-up book and somehow books in general continue to evade digitalization.   Music fell a while ago for the most part though there still are those relics who spin the vinyl.  Newspapers fell to the onslaught and books are indeed headed that way, especially as the older generations fade to time.

Pictures have been mostly untouchable for years now.  We used to buy a few rolls of film with 24 or 36 exposures or perhaps a disposable film camera and head off to a big event or maybe off on a memorable vacation.  We would be careful with how much we would shoot as the cost to buy and especially to develop the film could swiftly grow.  But not today.  Today it is shoot and shoot and shoot- how good is your camera at continuous shots?- and then maybe review and delete what we do not like or what does not look good.  More often than not I suspect a lot of bad shots are left in the digital storage graveyard instead of the digital trash.  There are few restrictions on how many photos or even videos we can shoot and store.  But how much does anyone ever really look at later on?  Just buy a bigger hard drive or consign it all to the cloud.

And even camera-only devices are being left mostly just to the specialists.  I have a nice camera for special occasions and also for my weak attempt at becoming something more of a photographer.  That one is a Nikon.   I have a smaller point-and-shoot that can take up to 1000 frames per second  in video mode and I use that camera, a Casio, to shoot high-speed athletic activities like batting and pitching.  I have two older digital cameras and also a few old and very old film cameras.  I no longer have our old Polaroids (wish I did!) but I do have many fond memories of buying film and flash cubes at the local drugstore on a cold and dark and snowy night and then taking pictures on Christmas Eve that slowly developed, in about a minute, using the warmth from my armpit.  Don’t have the camera but do have the photos still.  Anyone recall?

No, today it is phones with good cameras- almost all with two.  The first is an eye to the workd and the second is an eye to me.  It used to be that the eye to the world needed to be the higher quality device but now, with so many selfies, the eye to me seems to take precedence.  So I point, at myself, and shoot; and then I share with all of my virtual vapor friends.  Take it, share it, forget it.  It’s done and it’s gone.  Like sand through the hourglass…

Still, though, in the back of a cedar-lined closet or perhaps on the very top shelf of an large old dusty bookcase or even boxed away in a dark and dank corner of a basement, throughout this country there still exists those wonderful old photo albums, many with the somewhat staccatissimo story of the distinct and memorable events of a life.  Or maybe of a family.  Or maybe a group of friends or an old ball team or cheer squad.  Or maybe the best vacation trip you ever took or maybe one that was taken by your parents or your grandparents or someone you never even knew.  Maybe a group of co-workers from a place worked at long ago.  So many possible stories in so many lives across so many years.

Do you have one of those?  And did you ever look through it?  If you did so once you did so a hundred times.  And if you did so with someone else who explained the pictures to you or to whom you explained the pictures then that simply made the experience all the more a moment in life so worth remembering.  The moment you spent looking at those captured moments on film, memorable even more so if you yourself did the capturing, turns itself into yet another special and memorable moment.  So take a selfie of you looking at those touchable photos and send it out to the world.

And you easily know what is on each next page of that old album.  And you know the little nuances of each picture and which ones are in color and which ones are in black and white before you even see them.  And you learned who all the unknown people are, or were, so now they are no longer unknown.  And you recognize the aging pages and the method of attachment- maybe actual sleeves (more modern) or scotch tape or those old triangular corner holders, whatever they were called.  You even know the smell of the book if it has one.  And the sound of the pages as they turn.  And when you are done there is one more picture still to be seen.

It is the one of someone now long gone and it has a special place somewhere in the book because it cannot be easily attached for long ago it was torn, ripped to where it actually fell out of the book and no one has yet  taken the time to put it back where it once was.  It is stuck perhaps in the back of the book or just simply resides tucked between the pages.  It is ripped and it is torn and it is maybe no longer clear where it belonged in the book, in the life, but it is still there.  It is the orphan but still greatly loved.

And you know it because you have seen it so many times and never chose to move it.  It is as it was when you found it and there it rests still as the book is closed and put away to age along with you; later to give way to an electronic pad that will all too soon take its place on the shelf, in the closet, or locked away in a box in the dank and dark corner of the basement.

Do yourself a favor this Valentine’s Day.  Take that book out and spend some time remembering as it works its magic in telling its story at least one more time.  Just for you.

I’m just not sure any longer.  Or maybe I really am.

My confidence used to be higher when I was older.  Now that I am younger, though actually feeling older, I find that it is on the wane.  Surely this is not the way it was supposed to be was it?

There were times when I was older that I always knew just what to do.  It was all clear and hard as a bell tolling on a cold and cloudless winter morn.  Now I merely mill about in search of ways to spend my time before it has completely abandoned me and wasted all of that oldness that was supposed to help me as I got younger.  It ain’t working Jack.

How do you know what is right when you are no longer completely sure of what it is that is wrong?  Everywhere I look more and more people just do- they don’t look much like they care about making sure it is good or right.  What is good or right is no longer of much concern as it has been replaced by what is me and mine.  The kinder we are told to be the more selfish we tend to be.  Good and right?  I couldn’t even tell you absolutely any longer.

Who is more selfish, the young child or the elderly citizen?  That has often been the great debate but maybe it focuses in the wrong places.

When I ask who is more selfish is it not me who is?  Isn’t merely asking the question an indication of an extreme selfishness?  When did I get that way?  And if I was more selfish when I was older and will get more selfish as I get younger doesn’t that mean I have always been selfish and that how much is only a matter of degree?

So there I am and the problem is really me.  It has taken most of my old age to finally figure that out.  It’s not that I wasn’t sure it is really that I just didn’t know and very likely that I didn’t know because I just didn’t want to know.  But now I know.  Surely I must.

I guess I came here today to find something that would again make me sure of the things I had been sure of before I turned so selfish.  What I found was that I have always been selfish, from my old age right on through to my youth and also everywhere in between.

I thought that when I worked to help some of my mates in college that I was being helpful.  Then when I started my first career and worked such long and hard hours I felt as if I was sacrificing for the company I was with at the time or the team that I was on at the same time.  Perhaps when I supplied financial support for my ailing father that was surely a sign of an unselfish person.  And later when I got married and agreed to share my life with another that was certainly a strong indication that I was giving person, willing to give and also willing to give up.  Then when kids came along, well, what parent does not provide total support and sacrifice for their children no matter the cost to himself?

Somewhere along that line I must have gotten it right at least once.  Just once.

But no.  The experts tell me this: the college thing was just to get people to like me; the work thing was just so I could get ahead; the father thing was simply a way to hide my guilt at being so many states away from personal responsibilities as he faded; marriage was only so that I could appear more like a normal person and not some weird bachelor; and having kids and trying to do what is right in taking care of them is just to gain their loyalty for later on when it is I who will need them.

Selfish.  Selfish. Selfish.

So as I grow younger and stay selfish and as my kids grow older and try, unlike me I guess, to not be selfish I am hoping that I will see them in passing and be able to say simply that I am sorry for being so selfish.

And unless my wife grows young with me I had better say it to her now if she is not already out of earshot.

I was always sure that it wasn’t me.  Now I am sure that it always has been.

This will be fairly short.  It’s an extremely cold morning again today and I have to take the kids to school and then take the car in to the mechanic to get some work done.  Mo’money. 

Just a brief anecdote on memory and maybe what drives us.

Two days ago I ran across the website for a magic store here in the Chicagoland area and the name of the owner was familiar to me. 

I sent a note to the site and asked if the owner might be the old friend, not close, from long ago.  We had lived on the same floor in the same dormitory in college and hung out with some of the same people for a couple years.  After that we went our separate ways.

I remembered that this guy was into magic and was very good at it so that is why I figured it must be him who was the owner of the magic store.  I sent a note that cited a few items as a way of proving that I knew him, if it was him.  I also remembered some of the things we had done, the type of music he liked, and, to the best of my ability, what he looked like.  I don’t have many pictures from that time unfortunately.

I received a response shortly after I sent the note. 

He wanted to know if I was the same guy who still owed him for a piece of audio gear from way back then.  He added an inquiry as to what I had been up to but that came second.

I responded in some embarrassment and offered to pay for the gear. 

That was a long time ago but I should have remembered and didn’t.  But he did.

I have not yet received another response accepting my offer to square up my debt.  Not yet.

Some time ago I ran into another old dorm-mate who worked at a pet store.  He is a biologist and knew a ton about animals and even more about fish and aquatic environments. He works as an environmentalist of sorts and helps preserve some of the local areas around the main river that runs through these parts.

We came to the realization of our common past by chance during random conversation.  He entered that college a year after me and while we resided on the same floor for two years we hung out with a completely different set of friends and did not really remember each other directly.  That happens kids.

The next time I went to the shop with my kids the fish expert had brought in an old picture from his friends in the dorm during spring break in Florida.  Interestingly I lived in Florida for a long time but that has no bearing here.  He described each of his chums but only a couple of names sparked even a slight memory on my part.  You could tell he was remembering what for him were very good times.

But, sorry, I couldn’t remember his chums and I didn’t remember the debt I owed the magic man.

A magic man, a fish expert and an ex-engineer.  An anecdote about some old shared experiences from a time long ago in a place not now so very far away; and what one remembers while the other does not and what seems important to each after so many years.

Guess we’ve traveled a long way fellas.

It is Saturday and it is snowing.  Yes, it is snowing again and, yes, I am saying that it is snowing again, again.  I am sick of snow and cold and winter.  I lived in southern Florida for a long time and then moved back here.  Why?  It’s getting harder to remember but I’m sure there was a reason back then when we decided to do it.

Oh yea; it was because we had the chance to get out of south Florida where we didn’t think it would be such a great environment to start and raise a family.  Here you have character- though in Illinois that may be a bit of a stretch.  Here you have good Midwestern stock- they are nice enough but somehow fatter and sloppier and with fewer manners than I remember when growing up.  Here you have the seasons- and also lots of road closures and repairs.  Here you have the winter which builds character- if this builds character in my sons then why am I the sole character outside shoveling all this damn snow?  I could use a few characters to get out there and help me.

I am getting older and my back hurts after removing the drifted piles, in the still-blowing chill of the morning, from the driveway down which my wife will need to get the SUV so she can go out with the kids, leaving me to watch the building blizzard through the family room window.  So I remain here, ready to shovel again, and worried about my family out there on the road somewhere.  Such is as things are today.  Such is my Saturday so far as it has gone.

This is the starting weekend of the NFL playoffs- we Americans always get excited about things like the NFL playoffs even if our team is not in it (and mine is not) and even if our country is struggling before and after the 49ers play the Packers tomorrow night.  Grab some beers, some cheeses and crackers, some mini-sandwiches and sit back and watch the great American pastime.  Or is that baseball?  Right now it’s football.

I have so much to do but I am feeling a bit under the weather and may try to rest for a bit.  I will check on my family, via the ubiquitous cell phone, and then maybe try to take a nap.  Funny, I never used to nap.  Always hated naps.  My grandmother took naps, not me.  But these days, well so much has changed.

Look around folks and see what you see and tell me do you like it?  A new year has begun and your team may win, it may go all the way.  My team is already out of it and I am concerned for the future.

It seems that some teams can never get it right while a few always manage to flourish.  The ones who do not seem always envious of those that do, at least their fans are that way, and often feel better, even vindicated, no longer by their own success but by the other’s failure.

Teams can be like that.  Fans and folks can be like that.   I guess that citizens and nations can be as well.  Of their own and of others.

What team are you on and where do you land in the greater scheme of things?  Are you sure?  Are you completely sure?  This is something that we all need to think deeply about and then decide.  And then let the contest begin to see who wins and who goes home.

It is now the 24^th day of December, the day known as Christmas Eve.

I may sometimes come across as anti-religious but I am far from it.  I am very much against the money-collecting approach of what seems these days to be the key to all churches.  That is something I will go into at some length in another entry.

I am actually a very personally religious person as I have developed along those lines over a lifetime- my lifetime.  I have no answers, really, just a firm belief, from both a scientific and faithful perspective, that there is a higher power, that there is something beyond what we know here.  I just couldn’t tell you with any certainty what or who that is.

I do believe in Jesus, I know that He lived.  It is said that He came to earth to save us- I’ll likewise reserve commentary on that because, again, I am just not smart enough to know.  Are you?

How many Eves of Christmas have I now been through?  Let’s see, um, a ton it seems.  Many are memorable, many have sadly, too easily, faded.

When I was a kid I don’t really recall what we used to do then on this Eve.  I want to say we set up our tree that late but I’m sure that is just an inaccurate memory of mine.   I’m pretty sure we got into bed early and, like most kids who celebrate the day, we were so excited for the next day to arrive.

When I got into high school and we moved in with my grandmother we began to celebrate on Christmas Eve as we were getting older and started to come back to the house rather than living in it.  This went on beyond then and into my twenties and then sort of splintered after that as my family did likewise.

When I got married and we had our own kids we went back to celebrating on Christmas morning except when visiting with my still-around sister and her family.  We are still doing the same and will do so tomorrow with our beautiful children.

We will go to church today.  We go once or twice a year now and go to different Lutheran churches- I haven’t been to a Catholic mass probably in about twenty years.  It is important to my sons that we do this, today.  They seem to want to learn, they seem to really want to believe.  So do I, still.

It is below zero out there this morning and I have to go shovel snow, again.  An early and hard winter this year all you warming folks.  Oh yeah, it’s now called just change.  Hope and change I believe.

I need to finish wrapping presents today and spend time with my kids.  Will we track Santa on NORAD tonight?  Sure, why not.  One of the traditions.

It looks like Christmas out there and, in a few minutes, I’m sure it will feel like it as well.  Probably more like it a several hundred miles to the north.  Sometimes I miss Florida.

So Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, whenever and however you celebrate it.  I hope that you believe, I hope that your faith is strong enough to always see you through.

I do believe in God and I hope that He does bless you and your family and all those who are important to you in your lives.  I have high hopes for the future for me, for us, for you, for everyone in our country.  It is time America.  God bless you America and all that you have been, all that you stand for, and all that you can still become.  It is a time when you need us rather than the other way around.  It is time Americans.

Merry Christmas to everyone.

I’ve thought a lot about what my first post should be- probably thought too much.  I’ve started several different times only to backtrack and start again.  This one makes the final cut no matter what okay?

I was wondering today just how many of you out there are really happy with the way things are- at home, at work, at school, in your city or town, in your state, in the country, in the world…beyond.  That covers  most everything I would imagine.

Here in the Chicago area it is November 11 and we seem to be having an early snowstorm.  Wonder what that means- warming, cooling, end of the world soon perhaps?

Oh well.  It is gloomy outside and here I am feeling rather somber but not sad, pensive but not overly thoughtful, flat but not completely featureless.  It is November and it does snow here in November so maybe it’s just, um, normal.  Like you?  Like me?  Or are we mis-fitted to the place where we have come?  Perhaps maybe not so normal after all.  But is that bad or even all that unusual?

Did I mention that it is a Monday as well?

When I was younger things were a great deal different and days like this did not seem all that gloomy or gray- just, well, different. 

I remember having to deliver a whole big bag of heavy newspapers early in the morning on days like this, trying hard to keep them dry and trying hard to get the first few delivered in order to lighten the load on the handlebars.  And always having that one house or two where I would oh so carefully position my bike, with the heavy papers, while I ran swiftly but short-strided (wouldn’t want to slip!) up to the house or flat to place the paper where it would stay dry and be easy to retrieve.  That’s the kind of paper boy I was and the tips were good! 

But, invariably, as I ran to the front of the building I would hear the awful sound of my bike as it crashed to the ground and, more often than not, ejected several previously dry and freshly rolled papers from the bag and into the snow.  If it was a cold, dry snow there was still hope but, if warm and wet, well, what a mess.

Sounds like a real bummer huh?  Guess it was, then, but now?  Maybe not so bad so many years down the road.    I can still feel the cold, see the snow flying on those still-dark winter mornings, hear the crash of the bike as it gives way no matter how carefully positioned.  Just like it was yesterday or, maybe the day just before that.

So now it continues to snow as I listen to the somewhat melancholy “Everything Happens to Me” by Donald Byrd & Doug Watkins (ain’t Pandora just great?).  The day grows longer and I wonder how many of you out there are really happy with things.  Could be worse y’know- it could be, well, snowing.