Tag: human condition

Categories
personal

Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things

It is a concern

Headed back out to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn again the other day to pick up the kid from his sleepaway camp.

He was grinning ear-to-ear when I got him.

Him: Papa!
Me: Hey, kiddo! Man, you got dark! I hope you put on some sunscreen. How was it?

He told me that he had a great time and made a lotta new friends, which was exactly what I was hoping to hear.

When we packed, I asked if he wanted to bring his guitar and he said yes, so we did just that.

Well, it turns out that it’s a good thing that we did because he ended up playing for everyone twice.

The first time was at a talent show…

…but the second time was on the last full day, where he played for the entire camp.

Me: What song did you sing?
Him: Riptide!

I shot the picture below to my MIL.

Me: I wish we could do something about his quiet and reserved nature…
Her: It is a concern

The only thing that bummed me out was that he told me that when it was his turn to talk about Alison, he said that he was ok because he didn’t remember her enough to miss her.

That absolutely gutted me, but I didn’t say anything, because we have to let true things be true.

Then again, if he remembered her, he wouldn’t be functional.

Because all she ever wanted was to be his mom and he would have been devastated at losing her.

On that note, he did get super sad that night at dinner.

Him: (sadly) I miss all my friends.
Me: (gently) Then that means you had a wonderful time. Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things.
Him: But it’s so hard.
Me: (nodding) We’re always gonna miss wonderful things when they’re gone. That’s why I miss your mom all the time, because she was my wonderful thing.

Location: heading out to dinner at the Flatiron to meet my SIL’s new fella
Mood: curious
Music: I got a lump in my throat ’cause you’re gonna sing (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Two college lifetimes

For my boy, of course!

Mom: Was that today? I forgot.
Me: (gently) That’s ok. I forgot too until [my sister] reminded me. It’s good that we forgot today. It’s not like we’d forget him.
Her: Oh, I’d never forget him.
Me: I know, mom.

My dad died eight years ago this week.

I graduated college waaaaaaaay back in 1993. For a solid decade or two afterward, I told time in terms of “college lifetimes.”

Like, eight years woulda been two college lifetimes.

I remember when 1997 rolled around; I marveled that I’d spent four years in college and now, another four years had passed.

College seemed like it would go on forever.

And now, it’s been over for 32 years, which is such a kick in the head.

It doesn’t feel like my dad and Alison have been gone for two college lifetimes, and yet they have.

I suppose the only small solace in all this is both my mom and I forgot that my dad died this week, and that’s such a good thing.

Don’t wanna celebrate, or even memorialize his death, just his life, and how much it meant to me.

My dad drove an old beat-up blue Toyota.

The man coulda bought any car he wanted but that car never gave him a lick of trouble, and he loved it, so he drove it until it practically fell apart.

My siblings and I are pretty much the same way as him.

I used to take the train to Flushing and my dad would pick me up at 老地方, or “the regular spot,” for years in his blue whip.

There was one time, he picked me up with a mischievous grin on his face.

Him: You smell anything?
Me: (getting into the car) Yeah. What is that?
Him: Open the glove compartment.
Me: (opening it) OMG, you got a Fontana’s gyro for me!
Him: (nodding) With extra meat, just like you always ask for.

Swear to god, I had no idea that I’d replay that moment a thousand times in my head.

That was my dad. No one picks me up from the regular spot anymore.

I don’t have him or my regular spot anymore.

He woulda loved the kid so much too.

And he’d be so amused at how much he eats, like me.

Me: Oh man, thanks, dad. You’re the best!
Him: (waving his hand) For my boy? Of course! Just remember to treat your kids the same way.
Me: (laughing) Kids? Me? 

Location: Hoboken, for three minutes, before heading back
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I’ve lost count, all the detours that we take (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Nuthin like it was for someone else

You pay to be left alone

Her: Hey, are you free to join some work colleagues for dinner?
Me: Sure – where and when?

The Firecracker had a fancy work dinner to attend, so I gave her some suggestions, including the really nice restaurant that I took her to on our first proper dinner date years ago.

She booked a reservation but then one person couldn’t make it, so I showed up in his stead.

It’s funny because someone mentioned on the Firecracker’s social media why we would want to eat in an empty restaurant, and we talked about that exact topic that night.

Me: (to the guests) The thing about living in NYC is that when you pay a ridiculous amount of money in a restaurant for food, you’re really paying for people to not be on top of you.
Firecracker: Yeah, most places are crowded and loud. You pay for space and quiet.

In any case, I got my usual burger…

…and a drink.

Afterward, I gave some of them – who were in town visiting – a tour of the St. Marks area.

Along the way, we walked by some old haunts of mine, including:

Spent most nights there with my friends Francis and Rain but that’s a story for another day.

We ended up at Criff Dogs…

…and Please Don’t Tell, the speakeasy that we didn’t make it into last time and actually made it in this time.

I may or may not have ordered some hot dogs.

Firecracker: I swear to god, he has a wooden leg.
Me: I’m a growing boy.

Afterwards, we all went our respective ways but I actually, sent Rain a shot of Cafe Orlin/Marlou Bistro…

…and his response was typically him.

Without telling his story, I think part of the reason he left New York was that the New York that he loved left him.

I think that’s why a lotta people leave this place.

There’s almost nuthin left of the New York City that I once knew.

But that’s ok for me.

Because I gotta figure that the New York City that I knew is nuthin like it was for someone else who came before me.

And it’s time for someone else to have their New York City.

Me: I miss the kid.
Her: He’ll be back this weekend.
Me: (nodding)

Location: 10AM, shooting a shirtless video for Scenic Fights and then eating $58 worth of carbs immediately afterward
Mood: so. so. so. so. full.
Music: In New York, you can be a new man (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

The humblest, even

Two sets of friends

Despite my loving French onion soup – which is definitely in my top five soups – I only recently discovered that the Firecracker never had any.

Me: You never had any?!
Her: Why do you do that, Logan? You ask me something, I answer, and you are always shocked at my answer.
Me: Because I’m always shocked at your answer!

Realizing this, I spent a little too much time trying to find a joint around me that made some, to no avail.

So, I figured since I couldn’t find it for her, decided to try making some.

Me: Well? Whaddoyou think?
Her: OMG, this is so good!
Me: Yeah, you seriously hit the jackpot with me – easy on the eyes AND I can cook, too.
Her: (rolls eyes) And so humble.
Me: The humblest, even.

Been home more lately just because my back has just been killing me.

That, plus some idiot at my gym torqued my ankle with a hyper-aggressive lock and probably tore some part of my instep.

I don’t recommend it.

I’ve noticed that for years decades, really, I’ve had two sets of friends:

    • The injured
    • The uninjured

At any given moment I will have (most of which are because I’m clumsy):

    • A herniated disk
    • A broken finger (I’ve broken seven outta ten)
    • A cracked rib (3x)
    • A torn shoulder
    • A hyperextended elbow (20+x)
    • A sprained ankle (20+x)
    • A broken tooth (6x)
    • A broken toe (2x)
    • A torn knee
    • A ripped lip
    • A cracked jaw

Considering that X percentage of my friends fight regularly and Y percentage don’t, this makes sense.

Yet, recently, I’ve been slowly realizing that I have almost no uninjured friends left.

It’s not so much that I’ve got more fighter friends, it’s that age is breaking down the bodies of my non-fighter friends.

And yet, I also see that they deal with these injuries very differently.

Most of my fighter friends are more what I might term “bummed” that they’re injured while my non-fighter friends seem more upset that they’re dealing with this sorta thing.

Anywho, merely an observation.

Him: Logan! How have you been?
Me: Still topside and breathing, although my back is crap.
Him: Don’t even get me started on my back. Oh, and I ate a nasty wrist lock the other day.
Me: Yeah, this idiot at my gym…

Location: hanging with Buckley et al a little north of here
Mood: ex-haus-ted
Music: Baby, I’m cookin’ with gas (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Love you, buddy

Another School Year

Firecracker: Love you, buddy.
Me: Did you just say, “Love you, buddy,” to me?
Her: (laughing) I was just talking to my son, but I do, anyway!

The Firecracker’s son has been away for a bit as well and he’s scheduled to come back this week – the Firecracker is just as excited to see him as I was to see my son last week.

But all this also means that school is starting soon and that means the kid is another year older.

Told you once, years ago, that my year always starts in September. That waned a bit but, now that I have my own kid, that feeling is exactly the same – and as strong as it ever was.

On that note, Angel and her son came by for dinner with us the other night.

Her: Thanks so much for inviting us.
Me: No problem. Plus, I get it – just spending a week in Vienna, I Was longing for a home-cooked meal. I can’t imagine traveling for months and eating out every night.

Forgot to take pics but we had a fun time eating and catching up.

Just a pic from Din Tai Fung.

Her son’s off to a boarding school in Europe and she’s moving to London to be (somewhat) near to him.

Should mention that it was her son’s choice to head to Europe; if my kid wanted to move abroad, I’m not sure I’d let him just because I think I’d miss him too much.

Then again, it’s not fair for me to have lived my life and also try to live his life.

As the kid gets older, suppose we’ll have more things to wrestle with.

Until then, I’m just glad he’s around and such a bright bit of my otherwise drab life.

Him: Can I eat in my room to watch something?
Me: You don’t wanna eat with me?
Him: I ate with you for brekkie!
Me: (sigh) Yeah, I guess so…

Location: home but dreaming of Belize
Mood: ambitious
Music: That’s just how I deal with crisis (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

What is home if not the people that call it that?

Never having a home

Speaking of home, movies like the Warriors – which is based on a true story that happened almost 3,000 years ago – can be countlessly retold because the themes of longing, home, and survival are universal.

Hold that thought.

While I enjoy the modern takes on the Incredible Hulk – particularly the 2008 Ed Norton reboot – for someone that grew up with the 1978 television series, The Incredible Hulk, it’s very different.

Not just in terms of technology, production values, and the like, but the thrust of the show itself.

Essentially, the modern movies make stories about a god-like/monster-like hero, the television show was mainly about the other part of the Hulk, Dr. Banner.

There, Banner is shown as a drifter, and I thought that the show was the story of a man with a mindless monster inside of him.

As I got older, I got wiser and thought it was the story of a man searching for a home with a monster inside of him.

But this was wrong also, I realized.

It was the story of man that can never have a home, ever. He must always be on the run and can never relax or settle down.

Not my copyright, obvs.

Because the moment he finds someone to create a home with, that person will forever be in danger of the monster inside him.

So, he can’t have any relationships – no friends, no lovers, no children, no one.

Which is why the ending scene was always of Banner walking alone, to nowhere, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag.

Banner can never go home because he can never have a home. He will never have a home.

So, there’s no home to find.

Because what is home if not the people that call it that along with you?

And he has no one to call it that with him.

It’s such a tragic story and can probably explain how a primetime television series about a big, green, comic book character in the 70s lasted five years.

In any case, just a random thought.

Think I’m finally starting to understand the world a bit.

Which isn’t necessarily a good thing.

Oh, by the way, my son’s home.

Him: I’m home!
Me: (laughing) Yes you are!

Location: NJ, getting my treasure
Mood: steamy
Music: There’s a monster in me who shut down (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

As fine a legacy

The richest people

I’m 26 in that picture above. Half my current age.

When Alison was here, I used to do most of the cooking. And with the Firecracker, I cook most dinners.

It’s because Alison and The Firecracker both preferred cleaning to cooking.

But there are so many dishes that I wish I coulda made for everyone, but I just don’t have the recipe.

Me: I wish I wrote down some of my dad’s recipes. But I was so fucked up at the time.
Firecracker: You did the best you could with what you had. And just leave it at that.
Me: Thanks for saying that.
Her: Anytime. And it’s true.

My kid let me sleep in – like, seriously, sleep in – for Father’s Day, which I really appreciated.

It gave me time to just stay in bed and think about my dad.

I mention him a lot in this blog, but I wanted to share another story to give you some idea of what he was all about.

When I was a kid, I rarely saw him. He was out the door to job number 1 before I woke up for school, which meant that he was already up, dressed, and ready for the day by 7AM.

And I was usually in bed by 9PM but I didn’t see him because he went to school at night to try to better himself.

This left my mom home to cook and clean for us. We were poor so we almost never ate out or had take out anything.

She cooked 3-4 meals a day, because she also had to cook something for my dad at the crack of dawn.

When my dad retired, decades later, my mom was working. And he told her that she would never have to cook again.

He explained it to me once.

Him: Your mom stayed home to take care of the house so that I could work and make money for us. I told her that, because I have time now, I’ll do all the cooking and cleaning now while she’s working because it’s only fair.

And he did.

For at least the last decade-and-a-half of his life, he cooked every single meal he could for her.

He also wouldn’t let her clean up afterward.

That was the deal.

This was taken in 2002, 23 years ago when my life was so very different.

That’s who my dad was; he was a feminist and a liberal in many ways, without ever saying either word in his lifetime, I don’t think.

He just was madly in love with my mom, I think. And he innately believed in fairness.

He wasn’t without his faults, just like the rest of us, but when it came to his wife and family, he was the kinda guy we all wish we could be.

I miss his terribly, on this Father’s Day and every day.

I hope that what he gave me, I can give the kid so that the kid can give it to his family.

Suppose that’s as fine a legacy as anything.

Location: the couch, with the kid, watching Charlie Brown
Mood: nostalgic
Music: you wouldn’t have to say (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Showerheads and Siblings

Main Character Syndrome

Reading about the psychopath that blew up the IVF center in California gave me so many mixed emotions, least of which this asshole decided his opinion of the world trumped everyone else’s opinion of the world.

I don’t get how people think it’s ok, or even reasonable, to force their worldviews on others.

Like, that’s the ultimate in main character syndrome I can imagine.

But I digress.

Perfect Circles dropped me a line recently.

Her: Pregnant again! Number three joining us in August. Plainly we’ve lost our minds but it just felt like the gang wasn’t all here yet.
Me: That’s amazing, congrats!! Oh man, that was my dream, to have three kids. Alison only ever wanted to have two. Sigh.

Told her that I was thrilled for her, which is true.

But then that got me thinking: I’ve got a few embryos out in the world that I’m still struggling to figure out what to do with.

I’ve always wanted another child but that doesn’t appear to be in the cards.

In any case, one idea was to donate them to couples in need – ie, a couple that can’t produce a child on their own.

I seriously considered it in the past, but there’s an interesting phenomenon where people that are biologically related – a fact that they often don’t know initially – find each other and fall in love.

There’re a buncha stories like this:

    • Reddit reported revealed that a woman found out her six-year relationship with her boyfriend was really a six-year relationship with her biological brother after taking a DNA.
    • A Mississippi couple found out that – not only were they brother and sister – they were also twins!
    • A lesbian couple have suspicions that they might be half-siblings but plan on remaining a couple.
    • A couple from Brazil – with a six-year-old child – found out that they were actually brother and sister, both of whom were abandoned by their mother as children. The kicker is that they found this out together and live on the radio.

It’s not hard to see how they might fall in love; after all, we’re equal parts nature and nurture.

In fact, you can see how a hypothetical conversation might go:

Him: I love 80s music.
Her: Me too, my favourite band is Duran Duran.
Him: OMG, me too! I went to their last concert in London back in 2022.
Her: Wait, I was there too!

I’d read about this phenomenon ages ago but I was recently reminded of it when I visited my sister the other day.

I never told her that I fixed my bathroom but when I went to use her newly renovated bathroom, I found out that:

We both picked the same shower head – in the same colour to boot!

The one on the left is my sisters and mine is on the right. They’re the same colour – it’s just the lighting that makes it look different.

AND we picked the exact same tiles!

These are hers…

…and these are mine.

Again, we both did our bathrooms without discussing it with the other.

Anywho, yeah, I don’t think I’ll give those embryos away…

Location: the wet rain
Mood: brrrrrrr
Music: Tell me all the things that you like (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Another lost heart in the big city…

Wish to God I didn’t know now

Close to two decades ago, in the winter, told you once about finding a lost heart in the big city that a woman dropped when we smiled at each other.

I don’t think I ever told you that she was blond with a dark wool hat.

That’s all I remember.

It was a lifetime ago.

Back then, I’d tell people that everyone you meet out and about was single, sorta single and not single.

What a different life I’m living these days.

Was walking the kid to his BJJ class the other day when we found another lost heart.

And I was instantly back to 2006 in my old life.

At least, in my head.

In the past five decades or so, gotta say that one of the truest things I’ve ever heard was from a glam rock back in the 80s, of all things.

The song went:

I wish to God I didn’t know now
The things I didn’t know then

Fuck me if that’s not onea the truest goddamn things anyone’s ever written.

Location: my roof, wishing it would stop raining
Mood: sleepless
Music: my best friend died (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Alison would have been 46

I’m able to pay, for now

A little while ago, the Professor dropped me a line.

Him: If you’ve seen the HBO series Westworld there’s a line where a female robot is about to get her mind wiped again – to spare her from feeling the pain of her child s death – and she cries out “Please, no – the pain is all I have left.” I thought that line was quite powerful.
Me: (sighing) Yeah. Thinking of Alison and my dad is always painful but it’s better than not feeling anything at all, I think. Sometimes, I think differently, but for now, I agree.

There was also a NY Times Article that my brother sent me that had a subtitle that read, If grief is the price of love, I am unable to pay.

For now, I’m able to pay it.

But, early on, I thought paying it would kill me.

As I age, it’s a bit less painful.

Time just dulls everything.

Yet, when I do feel it, man do I feel it.

But I’d much rather feel it than forget her.

Because pain is the price we pay for love.

And pain is all I have left of her.

Well, that and the boy.

Him: I wish I knew her better.
Me: Me too, kiddo. You woulda loved her.
Him: And she woulda loved me?
Me: Oh, kiddo, she absolutely did. And she’d be so thrilled with the person you’re becoming.

Location: 2017, at least, in my head
Mood: complicated
Music: don’t look back from a hurt like that (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.