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Everything you have now you once wished for

More than anything

Him: (playing guitar and suddenly noticing me) Hey, what are you doing?
Me: (standing at his doorway) Sorry, was just in the kitchen and heard you play. Didn’t mean to scare you.
Him: Oh. Do you want to hear what I’ve been working on? I can play you what I got so far.
Me: (wiping hands and sitting down) Sweeet! I’d love that.

My last entry stuck in my head because of a line I wrote which was that there was once a time I dreamt of having all that I have.

    • I have a great kid that is smart, talented, kind, and healthy. That alone is worth the world to me.
    • Speaking of kids, as a kid, I had this thing called Compuserve for like two weeks because I got some sort of free trial of it somehow. It was pre-pre-prehistoric Internet. And I thought it was the most amazing thing ever. My mind could never have imagined internet and alla you people reading me.
      • This is to say nothing about the communication device/GPS/music player/video camera/photo camera/translation device/television/video game system that we all keep in my back pocket 24/7.
    • I regularly look at Sara and think, “How on earth did I convince someone as drop dead gorgeous and sweet as Sara to marry me?”
      • Granted, I may have incriminating dirt on her, but still…

    • I wrote a book, or two, that I’m proud of and this blog has been 20 years of me just putting my thoughts out into the aether, hoping someone responds – and, most times, someone does.
    • I was a respected member of the bar, and my office regularly tells me that they’d love for me to come back and do more work; I remember being in law school anxious that I’d never find a job.
      • Heck, I remember being sick with anxiety about even making it to law school, or college, or my high school, or my middle school.
    • When I was a fat kid, I dreamt, more than anything, to be slim and have friends. I’ve now been slim for at least 12 times longer than I’ve been fat.

    • I’ve always had massive imposter syndrome when it came to my ability to fight but I just destroyed a guy that was my level, twenty years younger than me, and 40 pounds heavier than me. Just…destroyed him. And this happens more often than I would have expected.
    • My mortgage is paid off some six years early and I live in the heart of Manhattan, something I dreamt of all the time when I was in Cornell.

I could go on, but I don’t wanna sound like I’m bragging.

I’m not.

I’m just reminding myself that everything I have now I once desperately wished – more than anything – for.

And I couple this idea with another one that I heard someone say once: You’re in the middle of the last big great thing you wished for.

Alison and I dreamt so much – you cannot imagine how much, which is why her death guts me – about being parents and now I am one.

Yes, it’s not at all the way I thought it would be and it’s far more difficult than I ever would have imagined.

But still, I have to remind myself that I’m in the middle of the thing that Alison and I (mainly Alison) worked so hard to have.

May is tough on the kid and me for reasons you know, and this year has been no different.

But I’m better enough now to recognize that I need to be grateful for all that I do have and not dwell on everything that I don’t.

I’m also not in a hurry for the next big thing because this thing I’m in now, is pretty good.

Mostly.

Me: Hey can I…gah! What’s on your face!?
Her: (face mask on face and with a southern accent) Look Logan, you’re used to “Tryna Get Me a Man, Sara.”
Me: Wha?
Her: This here is “Done Got Me A Man, Sara.”
Me: I don’t think this is what I signed up for. 
Her: (shakes head) Too late. No backsies.

Location: where I belong
Mood: grateful
Music: There’s so much more. Be grateful (Spotify)
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The key to happiness

VR DINKS

Me: Facebook just asked me if I wanted to join their VR High School. (long pause) That sounds just awful.
Her: (laughing) Agreed.
Me: Like, who on earth would do such a thing? Who thinks that’s a good idea? Why not just have “VR Let’s Stick Two Burning Red-Hot Spoons into Our Eyes?” It’d be about the same.
Her: I would want VR DINKS – Dual Income No Kids.
Me: Yeah, young adults with freedom and just a bit of scratch.
Her: Exactly. But VR High School sounds awful.
Me: What on earth was Zuck thinking? VR High School: Relive having no freedom, no money, and constant anxiety?

Went to the kid’s school the other day for a presentation he had.

Essentially, it was a business project, with every kid playing a role in sourcing materials, crafting, marketing, and selling bracelets.

Went in and bought the middle tier bracelet ($3.75) because all the other parents already cleared out the first-tier bracelets ($5).

Him: Thanks for coming!
Me: Dude, have I ever missed anything you’ve done?

Don’t envy the kid having to go to school.

Granted, I liked being a kid and I liked parts of school – it was the only place where I didn’t feel that oppressive loneliness – although I’m not sure the alternative was much better.

Having said that, I remember wanting so much to be older. I try to tell myself that, there was once a time I dreamt of having all that I have.

I think being grateful for the things we once wished for and now have is the key to happiness.

While VR DINKS sounds like something that might be fun for a bit, I can’t really imagine life without the kid at all.

He’s just such a good little guy and I’m so proud of the fact that he’s so resilient.

Which is good, because he’ll have to be with the dense people that seem to surround him alla time.

Me: How was your field trip?!
Him: Below average.
Me: Oh man, do you wanna talk about it?
Him: Not really. (pause) Well, we were on the bus for three hours each way with NO AIR CONDITIONING. Everyone was super hot.
Me: Oh, that’s not good. I’m sorry, kiddo.
Him: And…the person there asked a bunch of questions. One of them was “Whoever lives with your mom and dad, step forward.” And (long pause and a cracking voice) I was the only who didn’t step forward.
Me: (sighing) I’m sorry, kid. Adults are really stupid sometimes.
Him: Yeah. I didn’t…it didn’t feel very good.
Me: (sighing again) Yeah.

I still sigh a lot around here.

Location: the gym, worried that I crippled someone. I did not. But he’ll need ice for a while.
Mood: forlorn
Music: she never dies. Wipe that tear away now from your eye (Spotify)
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The daily horrors

The Horror We Share

Sara: [My friend’s] moving back to Milwaukee.
Me: Even after her dad died?
Her: Yeah. She still has her mom. Plus, being back home made her miss it.
Me: I get that. I’ve only ever known or been in New York.

Sara and I were taking a stroll in the neighborhood recently when she suddenly jumped back.

Me: What?!
Her: (pointing) Look!
Me: What, I don’t…gah!

And that’s when I saw it – a full-sized replica of the monster from the horror film, The Nun just chilling in the passenger seat of someone’s car.

It’s just not something you see every day on the streets of the Upper West Side.

Then again, there are so many daily horrors that assault us that we barely register them anymore.

Sara has at least two friends that are either stricken with cancer themselves or someone they love dearly.

And I was just talking to a good friend of mine and he told me that another buddy of mine just left his job and moved back home to Florida to take care of his parents, BOTH of whom have cancer.

It truly is the emperor of all maladies.

It’s May again.

I think of Alison and my dad every single day but it’s always worse in May, although it’s not been as bad as it has in the past.

But even if I’m not reminded of them or their plights directly, I’m at an age where someone I know – either directly or indirectly – ends up getting cancer almost every single week and I think to myself:

Man, I know exactly what they’re going through. I hope they make it.

Really do.

Because it’s both jaw dropping and horrifying.

And yet, people just seem to go about their days as if everything is fine.

Then again, perhaps I truly am the weird one, because I’m so terrified of getting it and leaving the boy alone in the world.

Me: D’you know how many people get cancer in America?
Him: I gotta figure like…50%?
Me: Yup, you got that right. One outta two. That means, statistically speaking, you or I will get it. How people aren’t radically changing everything they’re doing in light of this information is beyond me.

My own mom is dealing with her own health issues – not cancer, thankfully, just age-related stuff.

But it reminds me that she’s mortal and not the young, vibrant woman that I picture in my head whenever I think of her.

It’s a bit like staring into the sun, I can only think about it so long before I have to turn my thoughts to something else because it’s too much to bear.

Can’t bear the thought of losing any more of my family. I’ve lost enough of them as it is.

I suppose that’s why people don’t radically change everything about their lives – because I think we’d all be paralyzed with fear if we truly thought about all the horror surrounding us on the daily.

Her: (staring at the nun mannequin) That’s so creepy. Who does that?
Me: Someone who wants to be in the HOV lane and doesn’t have anyone, I guess.

Location: home, trying to push all that doubt to the side of my mouth
Mood: horrified
Music: For when you go come in misery (Spotify)
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The last analog decade

The 90s were seminal for me

Her: Listen, you old geezer.
Me: Did you just insult me with a lame name?
Her: …yes.
Me: I don’t know what I found more offensive, the insult itself or the lameness of it.
Her: I apologize for the lameness. (pause) But not the sentiment.
Me: Fine.

Heard a fact the other day that blew my mind:

Back to the Future, which I saw in theatres, came out in 1985 and was about a distant time in the past, 1955 – which was 30 years prior.

Welp, it’s 2026 now and 30 years prior was…1996.

That was three years AFTER I graduated college.

This was Sara in college – waaaay after the 90s. But I did wanna say that she was probably outta my league back then (and maybe now too – don’t tell her).

Sara essentially grew up in the 90s but I went to college and became a young adult in the 90s.

The 90s were when I stopped being my parent’s kid (mostly) and started being my own person.

In any case, I read something the other day that echoed this about the last analog generation, which was GenX, my generation.

Me with Taiji master Erle Montaigue – he was a pretty polarizing figure, but he was always really nice and cool with me. Died years ago. I’d been doing martial arts since I was a kid.

If GenX was the last analog generation, then the 90s was the last analog decade.

I say this because I worked – deeply – in tech during this time and I saw firsthand that:

    • Analog media was still the default – newspapers, magazines, etc.
    • Online social media wasn’t really a thing yet – Friendster came out in 2002 and was the first real social platform that anyone used.
    • We shared stuff physically – tapes, minidiscs, CDs, etc.
    • We communicated both digitally and analog but digital was optional.

By 2010, this wasn’t true at all.

And now, literally nuthin is analog anymore.

That’s my buddy Kar who now has FOUR kids – one of whom looks pretty much exactly like her.

Everything is digital, which – let’s be honest here – is often better than what we grew up with.

But there was something about a life that was less superficially connected back then versus now, where we all seem to feel pressure to keep up with…everything and everyone.

Like, in the 90s, to have a social interaction, you actually had to walk out your door and strike up a conversation with someone or pick up the phone and give someone a call.

I met alla my good friends at that time either at college, or through people I met in college or law school.

And we all had more shared cultural experiences because we just had fewer choices available.

I can’t think of the 90s without thinking of this show.

The other thing is that I – and a lotta people my age – grew up as a latchkey kid, which really came about in the 80s.

For those of you that don’t know what that term means, a latchkey kid was a kid that came home to an empty home after school and let him/herself in and took care of him/herself.

But that meant that we were free from supervision and were pretty self-reliant.

Compare that with how attached people are to their phones and their social circles – even if a kid did come home to an empty apartment, he would hardly be “alone.”

Nowadays, there are cameras and speakerphones for a parent to check in on their kids, and a kid has any number of friends online with which to chat with.

Being alone is barely possible these days.

Rain and me, probably at Cafe Orlin or Yaffa Cafe downtown. A lotta the late 90s early 2000s was in cafes.

I honestly don’t know how much of the 90s remains with me nor do I know how those things manifest from me.

And that means I truly don’t know how much of my old analog life comes out in my current digital one.

But I know that it’s gotta because the 90s were such a seminal part of my adult life.

Looking back at all these pictures, it didn’t feel like it was 25-30 years ago, but the numbers/dates don’t lie.

While the 90s are long gone they definitely shaped how I see, connect, and move through this modern digital world.

And even though the digital world is better in a thousand ways, it doesn’t replace the feeling of growing up in a world where you had to show up in person to matter.

Maybe that’s why the idea that the 90s were the last analog decade hits so hard for me; it was the last time most things were analog and digital was a choice and not a requirement.

And the echoes of that last decade are something only I, and those of us that lived through it, can hear.

Location: in my head, the corner of West 45th Street and 6th Avenue at 3AM sometime in the mid 90s, stumbling home drunk from a club with numbers scribbled on my palm and wondering when life would be grand, not realizing that it already was.
Mood: nostalgic
Music: I can do whatever I want, I can see whomever I choose (Spotify)
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Choosing not to age

The best one I can make

Him: You’re 50?!
Me: Well, 53 as of last week.
Him: I would have put you at 38 or so.
Me: It’s the toupee – people think the hair’s the most important thing but it’s really the glue that matters.
Him: (laughs) Besides good genes, do you do anything special?
Me: (shrugging) I just choose not to age.
Him: How does a guy choose not to age?

The Scenic Fights producers were pretty sweet and posted a nice birthday greeting for me on the YouTube channel.

Didn’t think they would tell the viewers my actual age since I figured they would want people to believe what they wanted to believe but they listed it after all.

What’s wild is that, as of this writing, I have 560 comments on the post, mainly with people either just wishing me well or wishing me well but also not believing that I’m 53.

The thing is that getting chronologically older isn’t a choice but getting biologically older is a choice and it’s one that people make every single day.

Half of it is that, because I was a fat kid, I’ve been watching what I put into my body since I was 12 years old – the same age as Sara’s kid now.

See, you make a choice every single time you pick something to put into your body.

Like when I was in college, in Dickson Hall, I lived with a hippie that refused to have a bagel.

Asked him why and he said, “Because a bagel has 35 grams of carbs and that’s more than my total for the day.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard the word, “carbs” so I went to the library (this was waaaaay before the internet) and got some books and read up on what that meant.

And I was mindful, since that random day, about how many carbs I ate.

Likewise, as a club promoter, I’d often end my nights at a diner on 3rd Avenue called the Around the Clock Diner – it’s long since closed.

Anywho, I remember that I went with some women after event and someone ordered this huge plate of chili cheese fries and I declined to have any.

Some girl: Logan’s always on a diet.
Some other girl: He doesn’t need to be on a diet.
Me: Yeah. That’s because I’m always on a diet.

I was still out with alla my friends.

I was still living the NYC young adult life.

I just was careful with what I let into my body and life.

Still am.

The other half is what we do with the roughly 28,260 days we all get.

I never stopped physically playing.

See, we call it “the gym” as adults, but my kid just asks, “Can I go outside and play?”

When I’m waving sticks and swords around or rolling around with people trying to not get strangled, I’m not really so much doing violence as I’m just…playing.

Like football is crazy violent. It’s also a game. It’s also play.

I chose not to age because I choose to never stop playing, which keeps my mind and body young.

It’s not a chore to go to the gym.

Because it’s not a chore to go play.

It’s the opposite of a chore, in fact. My kid understands that.

Shockingly few of my peers understand that.

Alla that is why getting chronologically old isn’t a choice but getting biologically older is.

We’re choosing with every food choice we make, the life we wanna live down the line.

And it all adds up, like Jacob Marley’s chains.

And like those chains, we wear the bodies we forge in life, bit by bit, cell by cell; we girded it on of our own free-will, and of our own free will, we wear it.

So, I am careful – very careful – with what I wear eat and do.

Because I believe this is the only life we get, so I want it to be the best one I can make it.

Although, on that note, I probably should cut back slightly on all that fiber.

Her: (turning to me) What happened to you in there!? Look at your hair!
Me: (exiting smallest room in my pad) It was an experience.
Her: Yes? Should I be jealous?
Me: No, you’ll always be my number one. (pause) Although that was a number two.
Her: (bursts out laughing) OK, ok. (wipes eyes) OK, you can put that in the blog.

Location: my desk, shooting a short as an experiment
Mood: busy!
Music: This life would just be so easy (Spotify)
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The courage of despair

Chapter 7 – Maneuvering

Recently got into a pretty bad argument with a business partner. It was bad.

He called me a few choice invectives, and I invited him to say them to my face when next met.

Went downhill from there.

He later apologized but I refused to take his apology, which was my shortcoming.

I lost the high ground when I refused to listen to him, and I realized that I was being a hypocrite because I’d been upset – for years – with a former friend for not even hearing my apology when I tried to give it once.

We managed to sort it all out, but I thought about it again recently when I heard about Trump’s attack on Iran.

One thing that I messed up with in my situation was that I cornered my business partner.

See, I was physically, legally, and ethically in a stronger position and he was not, at all.

But I overplayed my hand.

I left him no room to save face so all he could do would be to either dig in his heels or completely capitulate and acquiesce, which he wouldn’t be doing.

So, in the end, I had to reach out to him, which is what I did.

In Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, Chapter 7, Maneuvering, the general wrote:

When you surround an army, leave an outlet free… The object… is to make him believe that there is a road to safety and thus prevent his fighting with the courage of despair.

It makes sense, yeah?

Because every trapped animal instinctively knows, “Well, I’m trapped, I’m dead anyway, I might as well fight with everything I’ve got because…what have I got to lose?”

And so, any victory becomes a Pyrrhic victory.

That’s precisely where we are right now.

We have almost completely decimated Iran and have shown zero mercy – attacking without any notice or real provocation.

But the key word is almost.

They have enough left to drag this one for years and, even when things may seem quiet, continue the attack in ways we may not expect for years and decades to come.

We’ve boxed the Iranians in – and ourselves.

It’s the stupid, yet wholly obvious, result of an ill-conceived idea by stupid and wholly incompetent people.

All this to distract from the fact that my most gullible of fellow Americans voted for a pedophile.

Him: Are you ok, papa?
Me: What? Oh, I’m just reading.
Him: About what.
Me: (shaking head) Nuthin good. But also nuthin for you to worry about.

Location: the UPS store, being told that they can’t ship something – “Isn’t this what you guys do?”
Mood: exasperated
Music: Captain America’s been torn apart now (Spotify)
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Gay Freddie from Steuben

What he’s wrought

This gay fella named Fred created the US Armed Forces that we know today.

Lemme back up a bit.

Baron Friedrich Wilhelm August Heinrich Ferdinand Freiherr von Steuben – let’s just call him “Freddie,” for obvs reasons – arrived in Portsmouth, New Hampshire on December 1, 1777, with:

    • is young aide-de-camp, Louis de Pontière
    • his military secretary, Pierre-Étienne du Ponceau
    • two other dudes, and
    • his doggie, Azor – an Italian Greyhound, which he, reportedly, took with him everywhere.
Baron von Steuben Drilling Troops at Valley Forge, by E. A. Abbey (c. 1904), Pennsylvania State Capitol, Harrisburg

When he arrived, there was no real American “army.” This fact is reflected in our own Constitution which talks about a “well regulated Militia.”

Yes, the Continental “Army” existed but in name only – it was really a buncha militias tossed together.

Enter Von Steuben.

According to Wikipedia:

He arrived at Valley Forge on February 23, 1778, and reported for duty as a volunteer. One soldier’s first impression of the Baron was “of the ancient fabled God of War … he seemed to me a perfect personification of Mars. The trappings of his horse, the enormous holsters of his pistols, his large size, and his strikingly martial aspect, all seemed to favor the idea. He turned the volunteers into a great army.”

How?

Basic stuff.

From establishing “standards of sanitation and camp layouts that would still be standard a century and a half later” to enforcing “the keeping of exact records and strict inspections,” to prevent graft and profiteering.

He also set up a training program to train soldiers on HOW to be soldiers.

To be clear: The historical bad-assery of the US Army would not have existed but for Baron Von Steuben.

Note that it was a pretty open secret that he was as gay as a unicorn in a glitter factory during Pride Week.

That’s probably why he was slumming it with the colonists instead of fighting battles and having afternoon tea back in Prussia.

Plus, he never married but had several young male “friends,” that kept him company throughout the years; in fact he settled in Manhattan with a fella named William North for a while.

So, yeah, as gay as a rainbow wearing another rainbow.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

In any case, wonder if Freddie would be proud or ashamed of what he’s wrought.

What’s the point of this entry?

It seems to me that it’s always the people draft-dodging, fat fucks with bone spurs that have only ever experienced violence from the safety of a movie seat or a living room couch that have strong preconceived notions as to what constitutes actual strength or violence capacity.

In fact, violence and the ability to inflict violence really only comes down to two things: How good are you at violence and the ability to inflict violence.

Everything else – if someone is gay or straight, likes to wear slacks or a dress, is black or white, is male or female – is really just mental masturbation.

Those things are really only important to someone that cares about something besides violence itself.

Speaking of violence itself, anyone that’s experienced either the giving or receiving of it, it’s not something you take lightly or without a clear plan for finishing.

In Scenic Fights, we’re always talking about finishing the fight.

Because, in the end, that’s really the main thing, isn’t it?

Good thing no one is quite so stupid as to embark on something so dangerous on a global scale without these things clearly at the forefront.

Location: home, reading the new
Mood: incredulous
Music: you talk about death and everything in between like it’s nothing (Spotify)
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Be different: Listen to new music

Avoiding Stasis

Friend: Honestly, music stopped being good after 2010.
Me: I dunno about that.
Her: There’s literally nothing I can stand on the radio anymore.

In 2015, Spotify looked at its user data and found that people stop listening to new music after the age of 33.

At least in the US.

See, in the UK, where they use something called Deezer, that company discovered that Britons stop listening to new music at 30…and a half.

What adult uses “and a half?”

In any case, my point being that, in nature, there are only three states: Growth, stasis, and decline.

Me?

I keep wanting to put as much (natural) space between me and decline as possible and that means avoiding stasis wherever and whenever possible.

That doesn’t just mean seeing old friends, working out, eating well, and doing some deep thinking.

It also means listening to new music, because, if I don’t, I’m at least in stasis, if not decline.

And I can’t have that.

Not when the kid’s this young.

Music is a unique art form because, unlike, say, a sculpture, which is carved, and then just exists, music is created and has to be played or performed.

But, as you hear it, it can be remembered, heard, and anticipated – you can guess a lyric or beat because music requires a rhythm of some sort – so that it exists in the entirety of time itself, past, present, and future all at once.

Music is profoundly human is because it’s the only artform that only exists entirely in time and disappears once it’s done as if it never existed at all.

Kinda like us.

So, with all due respect to my friend, listen to new music, and fight the stasis.

Him: You’ll come to my talent show? I’m playing XXXX.
Me: I love that song! And of course – have I missed one yet?
Him: No…
Me: Then I wouldn’t worry too much, kiddo.

For the past few years, I’ve put all the music from this blog into this Spotify playlist here, if you want some new tracks on the regular.

Or just keep reading and click on the music links below (I get a few cents if you end up buying the song on Amazon, just fyi).

Location: the bathroom, installing a bidet
Mood: bidet-ed
Music: they say you know when you know (Spotify)
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Have you ever heard of Meghan Reinertsen?

My most valuable thing

Met up with the pastor early this past week for some coffee and…

Me: Wait, they have a $5 burger here!
Him: Yeah, it’s pretty good. Do you want to get one?
Me: Do I want a $5 burger?! Heck yeah! (afterwards) Are you thinking of getting another one?
Him: I will if you will.
Me: Looks like we’re having more burgers for brekkie!

Have you ever heard of Meghan Reinertsen?

She’s a nanny and an influencer but what really made her famous is the fact that she personally cancelled a United Airlines flight by having…explosive diarrhea.

And, to be clear, I’m not mocking her – at all – here.

After all, I know exactly how embarrassing and uncomfortable it is to have your body involuntarily leave your DNA everywhere and anywhere, through no real fault of your own.

Meghan’s story is that she, evidently, ate this undercooked cheeseburger and then had to lock herself into the airplane bathroom for 90 humiliating minutes where her DNA came out of both ends.

It was so bad that the plane was declared a biohazard and taken outta service for the next flight.

Since this was all pretty public, there wasn’t much to do but make a public apology video, which she did.

@meghanreinertsen Part 1 of how I personally got a United flight cancelled #storytime #airplane #diarrhea @United Airlines ♬ original sound – Meghan Reinertsen

But this entry isn’t about Meghan so much as it’s about my kid and alla his friends.

See, you and I met when I was 33 years old.

I was already a full-fledged(ish) adult when you read my very first entry back in September of 2006 some – Jesus Christ – two decades ago.

Back then, I was literally the only weirdo that carried around a camera with me at almost all times.

Plus, I wrote down what funny or memorable conversations I could remember.

This was not the burger that she had but it was the burger that I had with the pastor. Now I want another one…

But now, everyone has a camera and recording device on their person at all times.

And I can’t help but think of all the incredibly stupid, stupid, and cruel things I’ve done and said throughout my life – to say nuthin of all my embarrassing moments.

Dude, you may not believe it, but the version of me you met in 2006 was the mature version of me.

Logan Lo circa 2026?

I’m a goddamn piece of fine art by now.

Ok, maybe not fine, but just go with it for now…

Me in Berlin in 2006. I was 32.

My only saving grace is that no one had video phones/cameras on their person in the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s.

You absolutely would not be reading me. You’d be saying things like:

    • Logan? You mean the guy that wore rollerblades and fell down the entire staircase leading to Bethesda Fountain?
    • Logan? You mean the guy that wore parachute pants with the flock of seagulls haircut?
    • Logan? To mean the guy that practiced taiji for a decade and tried to fight with it?

My point being that, but for my telling you any of this, none of this would exist except in my own head.

But for the kid and his friends everything has the potentially to be recorded and preserved forever.

Everything has the potential to be just devastating – emotionally and socially.

I can laugh about alla that now because I’m 52 and honestly don’t care about much these days but, man, did I care when I was a kid.

And I hope that the kid realizes that nothing embarrassing is anything but a story to be told years from now.

So, here’s to the Meghans of the world that just say, Fuck it, and own their most embarrassing moments.

Because, today, there’s not much else you can do.

Him: Papa, why don’t you ever show my face?
Me: Oh no, kid. I’m so proud of you. It’s not that, it’s the opposite. You’re my treasure. And you don’t go showing off your treasure. You keep your most valuable things private.
Him: I’m your valuable thing?
Me: No, kid, you’re my most valuable thing. I got nuthin close to you.
Him: Yay!

Location: home, at a balmy 42 degrees
Mood: concerned
Music: Neighbors stare, I smile and wave ’cause I just don’t care (Spotify)

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Goodnight, Rose

She’d love it

The first time I ever saw my dad cry was at his mom’s funeral.

I was in my early 30s when it happened. Remember speaking to him about it.

Me: Are you ok?
Him: No. When my father died, I lost a major connection to my past, but I still had my mother. But now that she’s gone, I feel unmoored from my past, like a leaf in the wind or a ship on the waves.

You should know that all my best lines I stole from people I loved.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Thought about that recently because Alison’s grandmother died the other day.

That’s Alison up above with her grandfather, Sal, and grandmother, Rose – they were celebrating Alison’s brother’s return from the army.

I’m super annoyed that bottle’s in front of Alison’s face.

You never know what little things are going to be big things until long after the fact.

In any case, Sal died some 13 years ago, and I wrote about it here.

Alison took it pretty hard, but I was glad that I was there to keep her company through that.

He and I got along great because we both liked Dean Martin and, oddly, sardines. It’s funny what people talk about.

I liked Rose a lot too. Probably one of my favorite memories with her is when I once drove out to Staten Island with Alison about a decade-and-a-half ago to celebrate Sal’s birthday.

Rose had to walk by herself in the rain, so I stepped out to steady her, and she immediately took my arm as if we’d done it a million times before.

Felt like part of the family that day.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

I suppose that I have such affection for Alison’s family because they’ve always treated me like a member of the family, even early, early on.

All of them did – even A-SIL and I kinda bickered like siblings since we met.

Now everyone in that picture above is gone and I feel so deeply for Alison’s mother, that she’s lost so much.

Then again, life is loss – it’s all about the spacing.

But even there, she’s gotten the short end of the stick.

Still, that’s her story to tell and not mine so I’ll stop here.

As much as I feel sadness that Rose and Sal are gone, they lived good long lives.

Alison didn’t, and that’s forever going to eat at me – the unfairness of it all.

And, of course, I think of my father and my mother and how I wish…so many things.

I always tell myself to see my mom more often, but life keeps getting in the way.

No excuse, I know, and yet, it is.

I’ll call her tonight. Or tomorrow.

I will. Honest and for true.

Goodnight, Rose.

If there’s an afterlife, I hope you and Sal are catching up and you’re telling him about all the madness happening around here.

And tell Alison that we all miss her terribly.

So…terribly.

Him: Would she like that I play soccer and the guitar…you think?
Me: I think she’d love it, kiddo. No, I know it. I know she’d love it.

Mood: freezing
Music: freedom, oh freedom well, that’s just some people talkin’ (Spotify)
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