MIXBAG OF MUSINGS

So many atrocities committed, and so little time to atone for them... Can't say I'm proud of everything I've done. If I were to write a volume of "Confessions," a la Rousseau, it would contain a good many more deep and shameful secrets than his big three. But early on I decided I would rather live with regrets for things I did, rather than for those I didn't do. Prevention and caution can lead one to lead much too sound and dreary an existence. Among my many misdeeds, and trust me, I've much to account for, I often feel pangs of guilt for specific acts of bullying or torment that I either participated in or personally exerted upon others when I was only a child. As an adult it is shocking for me to see the behavior of a bully among other children. I fail to comprehend how kids can be so cruel to each other. The taunting and teasing...making fun of other children because of the way they look or dress. It's hard for me to understand now, although I...

When I lived in L.A. a biker friend of mine from the north would occasionally invite me to go shooting out in the oilfields. It was fun. He had a regular arsenal: a couple of 45 calibers, a 9 mil, a .357, and some 22's, both rifles and handguns. He also packed a couple of 10 gauge shotguns. Much too much firepower for shooting tin cans, but you've got to use them for something. We'd drive outside the city limits, down the oilfield trails and off the road a little ways. Shooting off rounds out there wasn't really legal, but it was common practice. As long as you weren't doing any hunting without a license the local law enforcement didn't much care. We would practice every conceivable scenario. From drawing holstered weapons on quickshot targets, to sniperlike shooting from a distance of a dotsized target, to tight patterns on shotgun spreads, shooting imaginary moving beasts. It was an easy way to waste a few bucks on ammo. Afterwards, we'd spend the eveni...

The disturbing menagerie of crooked branches crowded in around us, as we quickly shuffled through the leafy path. It was late autumn, and the ground was covered by dry leaves and small animal droppings. The wind howled around us, through us, enveloping us in its bone-chilling harshness. As we approached the brook, I took hold of Maggie's arm and slowed her down to a near halt in boarding the crossing. It was only twenty feet long, but its rickety boards didn't inspire much confidence. Maggie clutched hard at our child beneath her coat and blankets, hammocked in her mother's arms. The wind seemed to grow to a fever pitch as we crossed, aggressively trying to knock us over into the turbulent waters below. The others were so far ahead I could no longer see them. We'd fallen too far behind. It became clear to me that we were now on our own. Nobody would be waiting for us. The clouds were moving in, blocking the remnants of daylight left. Darkness was draping over the va...

What a sweet sensation Christmas brings! There is a feeling, scent and sound that surrounds you in the city during the holidays. Not during work hours necessarily, but afterwards, at night. As you make your way through overly trafficked streets, finding people's driving even more aggravating than usual, there's a particular feeling of Christmas. I can't quite explain it, this feeling. It's not the smell of cinnamon in the air or the sound of Christmas carols. It's more akin to the briskness in our moves as we make our way through crowded shopping malls trying to find thoughtful gifts in the blink of an eye, and in the subconscious sensation that an impending source of joy awaits us. When we were children it was so cut and dry. We'd count the days until Christmas. The holidays meant new toys and clothes, and time away from school. The joy the Christmas holiday brings to us as we get older is much more subdued. As a rule, the head of household tends to view ...

How do you project that spot on the calendar when all of a sudden it's not somebody else's home you're journeying to for the holidays, but it's your home everybody else is coming to? It's not like my daughter has left us and comes home for the holidays (she's not quite 4 years old yet), but my house has turned out to be the gathering point for several disparate branches of loosely fragmented particles of a family brought together by circumstance. Most of the connections between us are frail at best, with some notable exceptions, and we get together almost exclusively on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I've tried to come to terms with this whole "getting together for the holidays" thing, and I believe I understand the phenomenon a little better now. The truth is, days off from work are rare for me. It's hard to find any free time to do things around the house. On top of that, there are usually great games scheduled on those days, so dealing wi...

I spoke with an old friend yesterday. He called me on my cell phone out of the blue. I was walking around the mall with my Dad, killing time as we waited for my wife to show up for lunch (she's never on time!). My friend Alvin says he's coming to Florida this week. His company is sending him to Orlando for some safety training, sponsored by his Union. He'll be there all week. It's about a three and a half hour drive from where I live. Not exactly around the corner, but certainly a lot closer than the continental divide we've had between us since I moved away from California 7 years ago. We both vowed that we'd make an earnest effort to see each other on this trip, whatever it takes. Back in the day when Alvin and I first became friends, we were very different people from who we are now. Not only younger, but also driven by other motivations. Alvin grew up in a small oilfield town in south-central California. One of the younger brothers in a large family of m...

As the sun sets again, another day fades away. The clock ticks with ever increasing speed as I grow older; gaining momentum with each passing second. It's hard to be carefree when you feel the pressure of goals not achieved, and the finish line seems to approach you with the force of a freight train. I gaze upon my daily accomplishments at night sometimes, trying to find worthwhile achievements in my monotonous lifestyle. It's important to award yourself points just for doing the things that a working society requires, such as keeping a job, obeying the laws, investing in the economy, paying your taxes, etc. Mundane though they be these are not effortless tasks, and they form the backbone of our way of life. It's for the good of all that a majority of the population perform in this fashion. But I feel lazy and repressed, inhibited by petty fears of losing my comfort zone. Otherwise I would venture further into the world and try to live up to my self imposed expectations. S...