I got Grandkids!

Last week, Saturday the 14th to be exact, was a monumental occasion for me in every sense of the word. It was a very important link in a chain of events that have turned my life around. In a good way. I was going to post about it the day after but for some reason I didn't get around to it. I never got around to it until now, and even now I don't think I'll be saying as much about it as I could probably say. That's because it's a long story filled with just as much pain as happiness. It would take me a few hours to set it out like it needs to be told and even then I don't know if I could explain it adequately. My version would be extremely biased and though I normally wouldn't let that stop me I thought it best to hold back for that reason as well. The occasion?

I saw my grandchildren for the first time on Saturday, April 14, 2012. I have a grandson, Joshua, who is 6 years old, and an 8 year old daughter named Jordan. I'd seen lots of pictures of them since regaining contact with my daughter. I knew a little bit about both of them. But last week was the first time I met them, talked with them, played with them.

What a handful, eh? I'd forgotten what it was like to spend a few hours in the rowdy company of energetic youngsters whose greatest desire at the time is to show you all of their toys. I'm fine with that...in fact I loved it when I was raising Bryan. But that was a long time ago so I'm definitely out of practice. Didn't take too long to get back in the swing.

Of course we took a few pictures of the occasion and I had originally wanted to post one here but on second thought decided it would be better not to seeing as how they are so young. I would have misgivings even if I'd secured permission from my daughter so sorry, no photos of the grandkids.

First, I find my daughter on the Internet. Second, we develop a relationship through facebook messages. Third, the relationship evolves as we begin speaking on the phone regularly. Fourth, we get together in person for the first time in many, many years (and I meet her husband). And now, my grandkids are finally part of my life, something which I thought would come about much later but I'm satisfied with the way it all turned out.

I've spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with all of this. Don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about the whole thing. It's a lot of answered prayers and dreams come true. But I'm still having some difficulty trying to get a grip on the dynamics of the relationship, as I'm sure is the case for my daughter, as well. There was still some tension between the two of us...oh, I forgot...she invited me into her home, which may not sound like much to anyone who hasn't worked hard to regain confidence and restore a relationship, but as I see it the gesture is a vote of confidence (whether she realizes it or not) that tells me I'm on the right track. I've given her the opportunity to steer the course of the relationship since it first started.

The problem, as I see it, is the absence of shared experience. There's that huge, gaping hole of time when we could have been growing together, figuring out  what makes each other tick. All that time when we would have naturally grown comfortable in each other's presence is gone and there's no getting it back. That's kind of depressing, but on the other hand I guess discovering it should be exciting. I suppose it is, but she lives almost 2 hours from me. I don't have the means to go that far for regular visits. I need to spend as much time with her as is humanly possible to make up for what was lost. If she were even 50 miles from me I would go see her every day of the week...or at least every day that she wanted me to be there. I like to think that she feels the same way I do and would actually enjoy spending huge chunks of time with me.

When I talk about "shared experience" I'm not really trying to describe anything significant. Sitting together and watching a couple of DVDs, comfortable with each other's company. That would do worlds of good in easing the pressure of wondering "how to act" towards each other. Or to a movie, or a concert, or even just hanging out at Barnes & Noble for a couple of hours. My wife said something about us camping at Eufala lake. What she was actually suggesting was that we set up camp there and I could go visit her, since she lives fairly close to the lake, and it wouldn't be so much of a drive. I could stay longer or whatever. Somehow I got the impression that she was talking about my family and hers camping together...and I thought that would be a great idea. She agreed, it would, but now I think about it, my son would probably be uncomfortable in such a situation...not necessarily the situation but being with me in the situation. He's very obviously uncomfortable in my presence.

Which brings me to another dynamic in the relationship between my daughter and I. It kind of ties in with the last one. I am dealing with a teenage boy right now and it has effected almost every aspect of my life. It has not been easy. But when I feel like I have had enough and can't stand anymore I think about the years he was growing up, how close we were, how easy it was to communicate with him. That's all history, but at least I know that it won't be too long before this adolescent phase will be just as much so. The way I relate to him when that happens will be informed by all those different stages...

My daughter is 26 years old. I not only missed the growing up stages, I also didn't have to deal with whatever adolescent angst she surely displayed. I don't know how I would have reacted to it or what kind of impression it would have left on me in the way I would have communicated with her in the following years. Then there are those first few years of true independence she's already lived through. How do I work with that? Not to sound ungrateful or harsh, but it really is like talking with a stranger.

That is probably the key to understanding any uncomfortableness between she and I. We're basically strangers to each other. We've been working on making that a little less so, but it's not easy and it will take some time. Time we have given it, though, as we didn't really start talking on the phone until almost 5 years of facebook messaging. I have always been under the impression that something like this takes time.  I know I'm right about that. Even it was frustrating for me to wait for her to green-light a personal visit I knew what I was doing was necessary. I still believe I was, and am right.

I also believe that this time next year I won't need to be writing anything like this. It's a long drive, to be sure, but it didn't seem all that long heading up there last week (if you don't count the hassles I had getting lost on the way) and I kind of doubt it will feel that way in the future. What I need to do is have my old blue Saturn checked out, replace the broken CD player and get new tires. I'm sure I would have already resolved to go even a couple of times a week if I had thought of that by now. The wife drives about 50 miles a day to and from work, we really don't want to add miles to the "good" car. The Saturn has more miles on it that there are grains of sand on the beach. It's never, and I mean never had any serious problems. I would recommend a Saturn to anyone. Yeah, I think I'll get it fixed and ready, because I'm gonna see my little girl one way or another. Better more often than less.

And of course I'll want to see my grandkids. The ones I originally began this post writing about. Maybe soon I will get used to the idea of being a grandfather. As old as I feel (an unreasonable estimate) I still can't believe I'm old enough to be "gramps".

Shameless new blog promotion

I've been pretty active with my blogging lately, and thought I'd take this opportunity to get the word out on the newest ones.

Orinthio II

Orinthio Tumblr

Orinthio Spotify

My older blogs have been re-designed as well.

Bipolar Confessional

Chromosome 11

Thanks

Ruminations & Reckoning on my 50th

Today I turn 50 years old. That IS a milestone age, right? It's sort of a halfway point in an ideal lifespan. It's more or less the initiation into middle age. I can get the senior buy-2-get-one-free discount at IHOP in just five more years. It seems as if every time I turn on the television I'm offered life insurance at reduced rates because I'm "between 50-65 years of age". Half a century. 18,262 days. I see movies that are set in the 70s and have to accept that they are nostalgic period pieces.

When I turned 30 everything was cool. Nothing to it. Nothing changed and I didn't expect it to. It didn't. Then I got to 40 and it was like, "this ain't so bad. I think I can deal with it". Which I did and for the most part it was a good decade for me. But here's 50. This is where you start getting birthday cards with the time honored slogan "Over the Hill" emblazoned across the cover. So there's definitely a sense of the next ten years being one that's filled with hurdles and sacrifices. 20 year old men hold doors open for me in gestures of respect to one's elders.

I'm sure I've exaggerated somewhat. Likely I'll cruise through the next 3,653 days riding high on significant events that occurred in the last. I've regained contact with my daughter and have finally met my two grandchildren I didn't even know I had until October of 2007. It's going to be great to get to know them. For that matter it's going to be wonderful getting to know my daughter, as there were so many years between the time I last saw her in the late 80s. It's a strange, intriguing situation, but I love her dearly, never wanted to be apart, and look forward to the experience.

In the next ten years I will watch my son become a man. I'll see him attending college, knowing that he will succeed if for no other reason than that he was so successful with his high school academics. I'll be there when he graduates and will watch with interest as he embarks upon a career. Maybe a kid? I can hope. I don't think you can have too many grandchildren.

Then there's my wife. Our relationship has never been stagnant. It is continually changing and, though I can't speak for her, I am of the opinion that it gets richer with each passing year. It will be interesting to see how our marriage evolves. She keeps me in line and her influence has been so beneficial to me that words cannot describe.

Fifty years is also, I think, a good time for a reckoning. A chance to look back and reflect. As Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living. I've tried to adhere to that maxim since first hearing it in a high school college prep English course. Now seems an especially proper time to meditate upon the life I've sustained for fifty years.

If I were on my death bed, would I be able to look back and say that I'd fulfilled my potential or would I go to heaven filled with regrets for what could have been? Aren't those loaded questions? It's never so cut and dry in the world, is it? You could fill a volume the size of "War and Peace" with all my regrets. But upon further reflection I find that there are valid excuses why they are regrets. Powers I had little or no control over prevented me from amassing achievements I would have hoped to accomplish.

It's a little harder to come to a conclusion as to whether I've fulfilled my potential. Those same powers that had a lot to do with my regrets have also kept me from being all I can be. Not as if I know but I don't doubt that there is a large majority of people who aren't and never will be, so I don't feel alone.

So, with all that being said I'll try and sort out the best and the worst.

It should come as no surprise, at least to my Christian brethren, that the most significant moment in my life was when I accepted Jesus as all He said He was and embraced the forgiveness He offered. That was in 1977. There were a lot of times between then and now where you would certainly have had no idea I was Christian. Many and long were the times when I, myself, didn't acknowledge the fact. But I believe in eternal security, or "once-saved-always-saved" as detractors call it. The place I am right now has led me back to that day, to that experience, the point where my life in the flesh ended and I became born again in the Spirit. How do you get away from that? It's just too monumental. It's too important. At any rate, what I'm trying to say is that throughout the years I have investigated many, many spiritual paths and religions. If I had found one I thought had the answers I didn't get with Christianity I would have converted to them in a heartbeat. As a person who suffers from bipolar disorder I can't say how long it will be before I stray, lured by other expressions of spiritual truths I feel would serve me well. Yet I keep coming back to Christ, and I just know there's got to be a reason for that. I may never understand it, just as I'm sure I will not understand and comprehend the Bible in this lifetime. I still believe it's the word of God.

I can't really list the components of the next greatest thing in my life, because I don't think it would be right to say one is more important than the other. No surprise that I'm talking about my family. I never was much of a "family  man". That's one of the regrets I spoke of earlier. Probably the result of my reaction to my parents divorce, but who knows, I don't think I was much of one before that. Most of the people in my own family are miles away. There's only one, of several, that I have kept up with, an aunt. She's recently moved even further down the road so I doubt I'll be in regular contact with her now.

But it's different with my wife, kids and grandchildren. They really are the most important people in my life. I have already talked about them in this post, so I will move on.

The thing that has kept me back, held me down, wreaked havoc on my life is bipolar disorder. I realize that I'm a strong person for being able to deal with it a effectively as I do. Yet it is something serious and difficult to deal with. I never wanted, and certainly still don't want to be associated with it, meaning that you'll never see me at any "mental health awareness" rally. I wouldn't say that I'm 100% affected by whatever stigma I think still exists surrounding it. But I did grow up in a time where it was definitely held in a unique, condescending regard. And for every stride of progress I witness there seems to be just as much of the same old crap, meaning that if there's going to be change it's coming at an exceptionally slow, snail-like pace and I sure won't be around long enough to experience the benefits.

Bipolar disorder has destroyed relationships in my life. It's taken away my ability to fully appreciate so much of what life has to offer. It's made me a cynical bastard who has to keep it in check. It's placed me in situations, physically and mentally, that I would not wish upon my biggest enemy. You always hear about how people with bipolar disorder are so "creative", etc. I don't know about that. I do something creative and I might be happy with it for a few days but think it sucks big time for the next several years. So you kind of get the feeling that you're wasting your time and that deflates whatever motivation you might have to do it again.

Enough about bipolar disorder. Some accomplishments I have reason to be proud of.

As a young child I always wanted to play in a band. At first I insisted that it be a rock band but as time went on I figured music was music if you had an appreciative audience. I taught myself how to play the bass guitar and from that moment on I was able to live my dream...though I certainly wouldn't consider it "living a dream", because the "dream" had involved much more fame and fortune than I ever had a chance of amassing. Nevertheless, I eventually figured out that it's not right to "do it for the money". I can count on one hand the number of shows I've played in which I wasn't thrilled to be where I was, doing what I was doing. I loved playing music for people and I got to do that a bit during my last 50 years. Not nearly as often as I would have liked, but all things considered I think I did pretty well. Better than a lot of musicians have done.

...I was going to go into detail about something important but then thought better of it. What I will say is that I had a bad habit for over 15 years. It wasn't just a habit, it was an addiction. I bought into and was happy to be a part of it's subculture. Most of that time I had no intention of quitting. I knew that even if I did I probably couldn't, because I was every bit as enslaving to me as the bottle is to the alcoholic.

Fortunately for me, circumstances came about that required me to stop this bad habit once and for all. I was not happy about the circumstances or how they came about. I most certainly would not have quit without them. I will say, thought, that it was the best decision I ever made when I took the initiative and quit. It's been a year now and I have absolutely no desire to go back. None. Not even "for old time's sake". Breaking that habit is something I consider to be a major accomplishment in my life, so there was no way I  could ignore it.

The legacy I'll leave behind is my children. I've come to the point where I realize that's more than enough. I write this blog in an attempt to share something about myself, primarily for when I'm gone. That's the core intent of the other blogs I maintain. When I'm long gone, they will know this about me. They can gather 'round the computer on father's day and pay me tribute by reading some of this stuff. I know that nothing lasts forever. Even this stuff will eventually succumb to change. But until it does, well, for all intents an purposes, I'm here. Just a fraction of me, but it's here.

How did I get there? I was ruminating upon my first 50 years, now I'm talking about grandchildren reading about me when I'm dead? I'm just trying to find a way to end this post. I knew I had a lot of ground to cover and I figured I wouldn't get nearly as much done as I hoped to. I was right. I thought I'd be able to do more, but hey, time to put an end to this reckoning and start the next half century. I've got the complete works of Charles Dickens on my Kindle Fire and a resolution to spend more time reading the greats and less on the computer.

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"Sailor and the Grand Old Flag"

I wrote the genesis of this story some time in the late 80s. Fished it out of my written junk while looking for stuff to post on orinthio tumblr II. I was only going to type it up and post it here but kind of got caught up in it and decided to flesh it out a little bit.

"Sailor and the Grand Old Flag" 


Deborah lay in her hospital bed, breathing in, absorbing the air that reeked of disinfectant. Her eyes, still a bit heavy from that last dose of Melloril, slowly drifted from the window to the door, to the ceiling and back to the window.

Outside, the grand flag of the United States of America blew with each gust of the wind. Deborah had her suspicions as to who had put that flag there and why. She also had come to realize that she was the one who controlled the wind which unfurled it each time she glanced out the window.

...he was a young sailor, on leave, who had run into her on a scorching hot summer day, sweating in the park. The image of his silly sailor's uniform and those awkward military glasses was quite vivid and made her lauugh as she recalled the day.

"I wonder how he knew I would be here," she thought, trying to figure out exactly WHEN he'd placed the flag pole on the roof of the building next to the one she was locked in.The one that hypnotized her so often.

"Sex was probably the only thing on his mind," she resolved, still too lost in the Melloril to allow the memory a chance to take hold.

It was too obvious. He'd put the flag there to remind her of the weekend she gave herself to him. As it turned out, he'd had more on his mind than fucking.  She was the one who didn't want a relationship.

So goodbye, awkward sailor. With your hope of resurrection dragged down. You probably still tell her "good night", every single night, as if she were still lying next to you in whatever you call a bed. The last words you ever heard from her were "good night" and off to dream in her arms. How many times have wished you had never woken up the next morning?

Deborah's daydream was interrupted by a charge nurse who stepped in to take her vital signs. The procedure had become routine and mundane, but she was uncomfortable nevertheless. The Melloril had made her mouth so dry that it was a monumental tak to keep the thermometer underneath her tongue.  

As the nurse waited for the electronic "bzzzz" that signaled a temperature reading, Deborah stared at the procession of hospital personell and uncomfortable visitors that passed by her room...

...striding down the hallway two men in business suits conversed - one smiling mischievously, the other apparently on the verge of tears. The Nurse's Station was visible from her bed and she was comforted by the sight of the busy gaggle of caregivers. She had become familiar with them all and recognized each one by name. An elderly lady passed by, searching for family members who had long ago passed away. She peeked inside her room. Satisfied that Deborah was not relatede to her, she walked on.

Bzzzzzzz.

Without a word the nurse took the thermometer and walked briskly out, closing the door behind her, leaving Deborah alone in the tiny world she never asked to live in.

Too tired to move, she looked to the sky. Where were the clouds? Where had the sun gone?

Just WHITE. A hard WHITE surface to replace the infinite horizon of the  sky she missed so much. Only a glass orb of light, disarming in it's brightness, even more unnerving it's  sudden extinction. Even when she closed her eyes she could see it's hardness. She discovered that if she kept them shut tight and turned over in bed she could see the floor, every bit as hard and WHITE as the ceiling. If she tried hard enough she could forget the feel of the mattress and the sensation was exactly like being suspended in mid-air.

Of all her mental acrobatics, this was the illusion she loved the most. The weightless, giddy sensation of being a cloud. Movement, without direction. How wonderful! No schizophrenic illusion, not this one. She vigorously denied the possibility that this trick was the result of the potent medication the deluded doctors had forced down her throat. But is it was, she thought, perhaps she'd do well to re-evaluate her disdain for psychiatrists and psychotropic medications.

Sometimes she gets so caught up in the fantasy that she forgets every sailor she's ever had the pleasure to pleasure. She doesn't remember any names, any faces, any phallic objects that would occupy her mind at most any other time.

Then, just as soon as she reaches this state of forgotten Nirvana she turns her head to the right and looks out the window, hoping to see the beautiful world she will surely be welcomed back into. She aches to see the framed paintings, the bric-a-brac, the bookshelves, the clock radio, her carefully crafted expression of her creative personality, not this sterile womb, the hard hospital bed only slightly softer than the floor. She wants so badly to see other people dressed in colorful clothes moving about freely with somewhere to go instead of orderlies all decked out in white.

Instead, without fail, the wind picks up and Old Glory flies free again. Sailor's on her mind. She says to herself, "At least I can see the sky behind it. It looks real enough."

She concentrates on a point to the flagpole's left...the banner rises from it's limpness, hoisted to the west by a new breeze. She concentrates on a point to it's right...the flag pulls 90 degrees and flaps to the east. She clears her mind, only for a few seconds, and watches it go flacid again, pointing to the ground four stories below.

Afraid to look up at the hard WHITE her gaze follows the flag's southern direction she just stares at the sidewalk below. Hard as the ceiling but at least it's real.

She picks up a heavy chair and aims it at the window. In her mind she takes one last look at Sailor, sleeping soundly in her mind, comforted by her treacherous "goodnight". She hoists the chair up with surprising strength, soul crushed knowing he woke up not in anger but tears. She feels no weakness in her shoulders, she feels no weakness at all...only in her heart for a man she called Sailor, the only man who could have held her back. The only man who could have kept her out of this rathole. She flings the chair at the fortified glass pane, an unmistakeable crash proving the limits of it's inadequate fortification.

"It's nice to get a jolt of reality now and then," she thinks.

"But I prefer falling."

Resurrection Band: "City Streets", "Alienated", "The Chair"

Easter weekend is usually a good time for me. I reflect upon the reasons I'm a Christian and come away with a new sense of conviction. This weekend wasn't like that and I really don't know why. There's been so much "atheist talk" with my son this year that I guess it's wearing me thin to the point where I almost lose the hope that keeps me going. In the long run I won't lose it because Jesus won't let that happen, but nevertheless I fear that my bipolar disorder has swung way down to a troubling low. I take anti-depressants and have done so for at least a year. They did me a lot of good and the effects were recognizable. I'm afraid I've built up a tolerance level to them. I'm doing some of the same things and thinking some of the same thoughts and feeling the same way I did before I began taking them. So either it's a huge emotional drop that will correct itself in the same manner that a manic phase does not last forever, or I need to look into getting a new anti-depressant prescribed. If you only knew how much I loathe that possibility.

I didn't come here to talk psychiatry or mental health. I just wanted to share an awesome video I just found of the Resurrection Band in performance circa 1981. It took me back to the good old days after I'd first become a Christian. Christian rock music helped me survive the conservative, ultra-literal church mindset in Oklahoma. Resurrection Band was probably the first evangelical rock band I ever heard. They kicked ass so hard it wasn't even funny! Not too many, if any, could keep up with them. They were truly anointed, and this bugged the Bible Belters to no end. Unlike a lot of CCM rockers they didin't ape any particular "secular" band. They didn't have to. I don't care what you believe in, or don't believe in, if you like good rock music you would do yourself a favor tracking down "Colours" and "Mommy Don't Love Daddy Anymore".

The video is an excerpt from a show in Puerto Rico. It starts out with "City Streets", moves on with "Alienated" and closes out with an incredible song about people with disabilities, "The Chair". I'll warn you that the last song is cut off about 15 seconds before it ends, and this is extremely frustrating because "The Chair" is by far the most powerful song of the three. Like I said when I posted it on YouTube, singer Glenn Kaiser could have been a huge rock star had he chosen to play anything but Christian music. If you don't think so by the end of this video then I suppose you and I have radically different opinions about the requirements for such fame and success. It doesn't matter, though, because it's probable that Kaiser would not have been a fraction the performer had it not been for the inspiration from and conviction of his faith in Jesus Christ.

5 photographs april 2012

I'll have some more of these up later.

Pentangle Unwound

Heads

Glisoti

Black Sea

Surprised Angel

Jenny Lee and the Preacher's Son

I was looking through some old notebooks earlier and came across this poetic masterpiece. Actually I'm not sure if it was meant to be a ribald poem or a song. It could probably work either way. But it made me laugh and I had to share it...

JENNY LEE AND THE PREACHER'S SON

Well now Jenny Lee she was a hooker

  She made about a grand a night

But Jenny, she weren't no looker

  She could give a man one hell of a fright

We used to wonder how she stayed so busy

  Good Lord, she was almost rich

The other gals on the corner didn't like her

  They all called her a skanky old witch

One night Jenny Lee was out working

  Making a midnight run

She was just gettin' done with a client

  Got a call from Reverend Simmons' son

He said, "Jenny Lee, you know I been lookin'

  "Been admirin' your stuff from afar

"And I'm hungry for what you got cookin'

  Could you meet me in a half of an hour?"

She said, "Ben Simmons, I just don't believe it

  "Mister, you should be ashamed

"Don't you care 'bout your reputation?

  "Why you wanna play this game?"

"I ain't nothin' like my daddy",

  He said, "Sometimes I gets me an itch

"And my daddy's money can't scratch it

  "Besides, he's a son of a bitch"

Now Jenny's jaw dropped wide opened

  Said "Simmons you just crossed the line"

Said "Your daddy's money can't scratch your itch

  "But it sure as hell can scratch mine!"

Sireeno Kin & Snowball

A video I made yesterday of Sireeno Kin playing with the neighbor's dog, whose real name we don't know so we have christened him "Snowball". That toy was really nasty, too.

Music by The Bambo Syndicate

Oklahoma Western horizon, April 2, 2012

I snapped this shot of the Western horizon yesterday evening. Pretty nice. One thing about living in Oklahoma, these kind of skylines are common with all the inclement weather we deal with. It's easy to take for granted the natural beauty of thunderheads and other cumulus clouds as they bring in storms across the sunlight.

Oklahoma...
April 2, 2012