An old friend of mine reached out to me the other day.
Her: I thought of you. I thought, “If Logan could survive everything he survived, I can survive this.” Me: (nodding) You totally can. Even when we don’t wanna survive things, we do. We’re meant to struggle and scuffle until we’re breathless and weak. Her: (sadly) I trusted him. I can’t believe that he did this. I keep wondering if I… Me: You didn’t do anything wrong. This is a him problem, not a you problem. Her: But…he’s my life. Me: You lived a solid 32 years without knowing he existed. How could someone you’ve known seven outta 38 years be your entire life? Her: (sighing) You’re right. I know you’re right. (laughing) When did you get so smart? Me: Sometime in the mid-90s I think. Her: It still amazes us that you’re still here. Me: It amazes me too. Somehow, I’ve learned to eat shadows and shit rainbows. Her: (laughs, takes a deep breath, then sighs)
Location: looking for a Level 4 ballistic plate in a playground
Mood: irritated
Music: Running from your bad decisions (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Me: You know what I realized about that musical we saw, Merrily We Roll Along? Her: What? Me: It annoyed me that they told the story backwards but I just realized that’s how I…well, people…look at life as adults. Backwards. I’m at an age where everything in my life I look at in reverse.
If they did, Europe as we know it would probably have been Muslim instead of Christian, meaning the US would have been Muslim as well.
But the Ottman Turks failed in their conquest so Europe remained, for better or worse, Christian.
The crazy thing is that 341 years after that battle, there are still remnants of the siege lodged in the very wall of the cathedral: A Turkish cannonball remains fixed in time and space on the south wall of the building.
I’m always interested in things from our – distant – past that affect our current lives.
As I try to raise this boy, I think back on my own life and childhood and how I felt and thought about things.
I see life so much more through the eyes of my parents, particularly my dad, and I understand him more.
Don’t fully agree with alla the things he did but I get why he did so much of what he did.
This lady named Mignon McLaughlin once said, The past is strapped to our backs. We do not have to see it; we can always feel it.
That’s true. I always feel my parents and my past around in the things I say and do.
The kid doesn’t really understand how much of me was made by them and how much of what he thinks I’m giving him, actually come from them.
Ms. McLaughlin was right about our pasts always being there, but – sometimes, though – we can see it as well as feel it.
Back in 2008, told you that someone said that our kids are our receipts. The proof that we existed.
So, the kid is our receipt.
He’s the cancelled check that says that Alison and I were here, and that we did something good at least once.
Him: What are you thinking about, papa? Me: You. Him: (laughing) But I’m right here. Me: (nodding) So you are…and I’m so happy you are.
My trip to Austria highlighted the fact that my life is very different now than when I was younger.
For one, the only real luggage I have is not one, but two garment bags – the first being the red one I brought all over the world for close to the past 30 years.
Still works great, btw.
The second is in the form of a shoulder bag.
The reason both are garment bags is because, in my youth, couldn’t imagine a scenario where I wouldn’t need a suit, or at least a nice dress shirt, when I traveled.
This time around, I had nonea those things and the rolling garment bag left a lot to be desired.
The Firecracker’s stuff didn’t fit it all that great and there was a lotta wasted space because of how it’s configured.
So, I started looking for luggage.
Jesus christ, are there a lotta options out there.
To narrow things down, I started only looking at luggage that had “YKK” zippers on them because that’s an indicator of quality to me.
What I noticed was that they were, by-and-large, about 20-30% more than luggage that didn’t have – or didn’t state that they had – YKK zippers.
This just supported my decision to buy one from that group because of another saying I like:
How do you do anything is how you do everything.
In other words, if a company cares enough to spend the extra money to use YKK zippers in their luggage, they probably care enough to do other things right and more thoughtfully.
Obviously, like all sayings, there are exceptions to it but it’s generally true, for the most part.
Been telling the kid things like this now that he’s getting older and can understand such things.
And this particular saying is pretty applicable to him because of his personality.
On the positive side, the kid is relentlessly upbeat and excitable.
On the negative side, because of his joie de vivre, he tends to rush at things and not really focus when he needs to.
So, I’ve been trying to tell him to slow down, which is hard for a kid like him.
It’s a work in progress.
Him: Done! Me: That was fast. Lemme see…OK, well, you got every single thing wrong here. Him: What?! I added up everything and checked my answer. Me: Yes, I see that. Your math is right, but the instructions said round your answer to the nearest 10. You didn’t do that. So, yes, you got all the *math* right in all eight of them, but you got the *answers* wrong in all eight of them. Him: That’s not fair! Me: Listen carefully, kid: Life’s not fair. Accept that and your life will be better than most people. Now, slow down. Notice things. If you do that, you’ll be different from most of the world. Him: What if I don’t wanna be different? Me: Look, if you’re different, you can be irreplaceable. And if you’re irreplaceable…your life will be better still. And that’s all I want for you. Slow down.
Location: 18th Street, getting floored because of my dislocated toe
Mood: ouchie
Music: Yeah, I want that red velvet (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Her: Are things like anniversaries important to you? Me: (thinking) Hmmm, not particularly. You? Her: Very. But I get it if it’s not to you. Me: If it matters to you, it matters to me.
The thing with dating in NYC is that there are (a) so many options that it’s easy to think that there’s something better out there for you and (b) that fact also means that you’re always questioning if you’re being too picky.
Close to two years ago, my therapist told me that I wasn’t giving people enough of a chance, mainly because I go on a single date and then bail.
So, I tried dating several people for longer than I normally wouda.
Everyone was quite nice and each had her definite strong points but I couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t right for me.
Fast forward a year and we went out the other day to celebrate our one-year anniversary of when we met.
It was sweet that it mattered to her, so I took her out to eat the other night at a Thai restaurant that we’ve both wanted to check out for a while now.
For me, one of the signs that a relationship is struggling is when you spend more time discussing the relationship versus just being in the relationship.
It’s been a long time since I was just in a relationship versus arguing about it.
Of course, she and I aren’t perfect, we do bicker at times.
Her: Can we stop talking about the relationship and just be in the relationship? Me: That’d be great, actually. Her: I’m not perfect. I’m gonna make mistakes. Me: No, you’re not perfect. (thinking) But you might be perfect for me. Her: (sighs, smiles)
Was planning on writing this whole entry about my trip to Vienna but I thought I’d take a little sidetrack to wish you all a Happy New Year.
The Firecracker and I went to the Albertina Museum and saw the Michelangelo and Beyond exhibit and saw a whole buncha things that I could tell you about.
But the thing that stuck with me was the sculpture called The Wrestlers, which is actually not by Michelangelo but by an unknown Roman sculptor.
This is actually a copy but still…
The interesting thing about this sculpture is that it’s a pretty common move even today called the “cross-body ride,” and the top wrestler would probably move to a position called a twister or a guillotine.
The mayor office announced congestion pricing the other day.
There were more cops than protestors but I suppose that’s a good thing.
At least everyone was dressed warmly – it’s been brick around here, lately.
If I told you that I opened up a can of coke and was shocked that no soda came out anywhere but the hole on top, you would think I was just being strange.
Obviously, if I opened a can of soda, the only place any soda would come out of would be the hole I created when I opened the can, yeah?
Conversely, if I didn’t open the can of soda, no soda would come out.
All this seems elementary, no?
But what if I said to you something like, “You should wear a hat because most of your body heat comes from your head?”
To me, it sounds precisely the same as if I said, “Most soda comes outta the can from the hole you made.”
Do you know why most of your body heat comes off your head when your head’s not covered?
Because: Your head’s not covered and the rest of your body is.
Like, if you go out into a wintery day, fully dressed, including gloves and boots – guess where most of your body heat would escape?
That’s right: Your head. Because it’s not covered and the rest of your body is.
So, it’s technically true that, “Most of your body heat comes from your head.”
But that’s super misleading.
It has the air of truth but only a little bit of actual truth to it.
It’s more accurate to say, “Heat’s gonna escape from your head because that’s the part of your body that’s not covered up.”
This has driven me mad for decades.
DECADES!
Thanks for coming to my TED talk.
Location: next door, having my third plate of shrimp and checking out heavy machinery
Mood: warm
Music:Â Baby, you can steal my sheets (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Been on a different quest lately, this time to find purple sweet potatoes – that is to say, purple fleshed sweet potatoes, versus just purple skinned sweet potatoes.
I’d been searching for it for a while now, including at various green markets throughout the city, but it’s almost always the purple skinned but white fleshed variety.
With that said, after leaving the gym this past Saturday, it was a 10-minute wait until the next train, so I decided to look around for paw-paws.
No paw-paws were to be found BUT I came across this tiny little sign on a small table with purple potatoes and grabbed a few pounds of it.
With that in hand, I decided to continue looking for the paw-paws when I came across some Adirondak Blue potatoes from Cornell University.
Me: Are these sweet potatoes or just regular potatoes? Him: Just regular ones. (long pause) Except they’re purple. Me: Noted.
These I’d never heard of, so I picked up some of these as well.
Him: I dunno. One out of ten? Me: (shaking head) No, man. It’s one outta three. Him: GTFOH. Me: (shaking head) For real, man.
Alison’s sickness has had a profound effect on me as a parent.
The reason why I’ve been searching for things like purple sweet potatoes is their amazing health benefits – particularly because those that eat it as a staple carbohydrate often life to 100.
I cannot tell you how many times during a week that I meet people that think that I live a particularly rigorous life, when it comes to diet and exercise but what is now normal for most Americans.
But the normal American diet and lifestyle means that one outta three people will get cancer in their lifetime.
That’s just insane. That means, outta a group of a dozen friends FOUR will get cancer in their life.
So, I do what I can so that the kid’s lifestyle is as anti-cancer as I can make it.
Nuthin’s guaranteed in life but I’m trying to do whatever I can to make this kid’s life better.
Hopefully, his seeing me drink predominately green tea and eat things like purple sweet potatoes and head to the gym four times a week will have a lasting effect on his own choices.
That is, of course, if they actually like it.
Me: What do you think? Him: (makes a face) I don’t like it. Me: (to Firecracker) What about you? What do you think? Her: I dunno. It has an aftertaste of…Listerine? Me: Wha?! I don’t taste that all. You’re crazy. (much later) OK, I taste it now. Her: See! I told you! Listerine! Me: (grumble) Lemme think about this…
The kid(s) have been talking about going on another cruise non-stop.
Honestly, I kinda wanna retire completely just so I can go on cruises indefinitely.
The Firecracker and I trade off on cooking duties, which is nice – although she and I do have very different approaches to cooking on certain things.
Me: Do you know how to make a white gravy? Her: Of course, I’m from the south. Me: With a roux? Her: Well, how else? Me: (shrugging) I prefer a roux but sometimes if I’m rushed, I’ll use corn starch from time-to-time. Her: Ew, Lo! That’s for hobos and whores.
Because she is originally from the south, there are some things about New York City that are really appealing to her…
Her: (at Times Square) Wait, that’s a real Lichtenstein? Me: Yup – a million people walk under it every single day and never notice it.
…but there are definitely things that don’t.
Her: Don’t you want trees and mountains and lakes? Me: I have Central and Riverside Parks! Her: (rolling eyes) C’mon, Lo – you know that’s not the same.
Now, I do sometimes wish the kid had green grass and shade, but he does have his time in NJ…
…although I do admit that what he’s accustomed to playing around with in Manhattan isn’t ideal.
Then again, it’s still worlds better than what I grew up around, I suppose.
Still, as long as the kid’s safe, happy, and healthy, I don’t really need much.
Although, I do find myself worrying about him as much as my parents worried about me, I suppose.
Me: Get down from there! Him: It’s fine! I climb here all the time. Me: Just get down! Him: OK! (jumps down) What? You didn’t say I couldn’t jump down. Me: (grumble)
That entry was a long time ago – I had just started seeing Alison then – and when I wrote that, my working at Times Square was almost a decade before that.
Well, when I went to see that Broadway show with the Firecracker, I showed her my old office.
Me: See that building there? I worked there for years. Had a perfect view of Times Square back then. And I lived just four blocks from work. I could wake up at 9:10 for a 9:30 meeting. Her: I’m so jealous! I can’t imagine that.
I can’t either, actually. That was almost three decades ago.
Did you know that, Cleopatra’s reign (ending 30 BCE) is closer to today, about 2,050 years, than to the construction of the pyramids, which were probably built about 2630 BCE, or 2,600 years before she started ruling Egypt?
In other words, when Cleopatra was born, the pyramids were already 2,600 years old/ancient.
In some ways, I look around the city and feel that about myself.
People think that I’m old with life experiences but they have no idea how old I actually am and how many different lives I’ve led.
Me: I took my bar review class there. Her: Right there? In the theatre? Me: (nodding) Yup. It was like a solid month, five days a week, for eight hours a day.
That’s the thing about living in the same place for five decades. There are old ghosts everywhere.
Everything reminds me of some possible past, whether I want it to or not.
Location: home, realizing I forgot to get the kid tickets to a show. He’ll be so bummed.
Mood: disappointed
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Both my dad and she died within 90 days of each other from cancers they never should’ve had: Alison passed from a cancer that generally kills old Caucasian men, my dad from lung cancer despite never smoking nor having any reason to get it.
This past weekend, in the span of 24 hours, my mom fell and took a nasty hit to her head, an uncle got into a terrible car accident (but survived), and another uncle up and died.
All within 24 hours.
People keep saying to me that bad news comes in threes and I do my best to chalk that up to pure superstition.
Still, it’s very odd and sad that it’s bearing out.
So, this past weekend, I dropped everything and rented a car for four hours to see my mom for 20 mins.
Man, NYC is the only place where it takes 90 minutes to drive 14 miles.
My mom’s ok, btw. She’s just very worried about everyone else.
Oh, and I detest people that use other people’s tragedies to garner sympathy for themselves – when Alison and my dad got sick, so many people lamented how concerned they were on social media and did jack shit for us.
I always say that I don’t like to tell other people’s stories, only my own, so I’ll leave the details of everything to them.
Like my mom, I’m sad for them and worried for everyone left.
To end on a lighter note, I’d been on the hunt for purple (fleshed) potatoes for a few weeks now and stopped by a local Asian grocery for literally 6 minutes – because that’s all the time I had before I had to return the car – to see if they had some.
But they didn’t and I didn’t have enough time to go to any other stores.
