"When the child was a child, It was the time for these questions: Why am I me, and why not you? Why am I here, and why not there? When did time begin, and where does space end?"So begins one of my favorite films of all time: "Wings of Desire". The poem, like the majority of the film, is spoken in German, but the subtitles lay out a thread of thoughts regarding the innocence and questions of childhood in comparison with those of an adult. It also serves to illustrate the joy that can and should be found in the simplest daily things, such as the unique tastes of food, the warmth of a cup of coffee held on a cold winter's morning, or the recognition one finds when looking into the eyes of a loved one.
I posted an entry a short while back that related my having thoughts about this site, it's purpose and it's content. One of the two thoughts, apologizing for unintentional offense, was discussed in that post. The other was tabled at the moment, but I'm now getting back around to it, and it's good that I did delay, as recent events have given this second topic greater meaning and purpose.
In looking at what I do here and why I do it, combined with some comments and observations from family and friends, I've had to look back at some of my posts, trends, recurring themes and general tone. in some ways, it's embarrassing, while in other ways, I'm quite proud of what I've amassed in what is really a short time.
When I step back and review this site, the praise, criticism, and impacts, I have to ask if there's a return on investment to be found here. What do I want from this in the first place?
And frankly, who cares what I think?
I wanted to be a writer in one of my "nine lives". You might not understand the "nine lives" reference, so allow me to explain. It's a game my wife came up with that is intended to be a conversation starter, and to give party goers and new acquaintances an opportunity to become a bit more familiar with each other. The premise is simple; if you could do anything with your life, and you had nine lives to live, what would you do or be? The answers can range from being an actress, a teacher, an astronaut, a musician, or anything else..... and for me one of mine would be a writer. Hell, I even used to fantasize that I'd really do it. My first book already had it's title, "Is It Me?", which would be my own rambling observations on the multitude of oddities and abstract aspects of our lives and society. "Things that make you go hmmmm", but without Arsino.
Obviously, that never got written, but some of if not most of it has gradually found (or is finding) it's way onto this website. Interspersed of course with odd tales, random thoughts and updates on my life and times.
As to why: this is my one chance and my one opportunity to leave something behind. Some day, hopefully at least not until my kids have grown to adulthood and started out on lives of their own, I'll take my last breath, and when I do, I want there to be something around that captures who I was, what I thought, why I thought it and what mattered to me. I want it to be something that my children, friends, and extended family have.
I have nothing to help me understand or learn about my own father. I suspect my mother's kept a diary and a journal of some sort, and has likely written down many of her thoughts, feelings, joys and disappointments, for myself and my brother and family to have and read long after her time here is over.
In my own way I'm doing the same sort of thing, but on a billboard.
These efforts goes out to the world, so in many ways and on several occasions, I've hit the publish button with a moderate degree of reticence, simply because some of the things I put out there are pretty personal. Things that I do want to leave behind, do want to reflect on, and do want to declare for posterity. But this website will not only be read by the few close friends I have and my immediate family. It might be read by any number of people. Keep in mind that I don't have very many close and intimate relationships wherein I'd openly declare that the deaths of innocent children in a school shooting brought me to a point of sobbing, that I have such a strong position against religion, or that I wrestle with being so in awe of the joy of having kids at one moment while I might easily hit the rewind button at another. I disclose a good deal here, openly, and i've received both compliments and admonishment.
I've had to walk a fine line and use judgement about what I write here. Yes, skimming through, one can find numerous occurances of my complaining about this, that, or everything all at once. But conversely, one can find me talking about the love I have for my wife and kids, about the joys of some of the work I do, and frequently about the treasure and wonder that is the life we each have, and how precious and valuable it is to recognize. And of course a fart joke here and there to lighten up the mood.
My wife's stepfather passed away from cancer shortly after our wedding. He was, by all accounts, a wonderful man, and from the brief interactions we had, I completely agree. I've often felt cheated that I did not get to know him better, and I also have looked back on the time leading up to his final days and I've felt like a complete chicken-shit for not having made more efforts to get to know him better while I could. Yet one thing really puzzled me; I could not understand why, when he knew that he was dying, he was not making every effort to journal or chronicle his life and thoughts. Perhaps that's not something most people think about, but I sure do, and I would expect most people would given the opportunity to see what a difference it would make for those left behind.
So when I ask myself who might care what I think, well, I do. Obviously. Enough so that I want to at least make an concerted and continued effort to capture the larger thoughts, along with more reflections back on my own life, so when I'm not there to tell the story, it'll be here to tell itself. And when I'm not around to reflect on the love I have for family and friends, or to share an insight I had about priorities with a co-worker who's letting the little frustrations get to them, it'll be here and perhaps will touch them, or an unsuspecting by passer, and it'll do them some good. And for my children, to know that someday, when they're adults, they'll have an opportunity to have a deeper glimpse into the man that is their father, means a good deal to me now and will hopefully mean as much if not more to them down the line.
I know I might attack faiths that are held dear by many, I might go on a rant about social or political situation that is completely against the grain for a reader, or that my sense of humor might be a bit farther off kilter then one might appreciate without calling it sick. I know that a co-worker might stumble across this some day and it could change the way they look at me, not necessarily in a positive way. I have to admit that the idea has occurred to me that a prospective employer, for example, might be offended by something they find here while casually looking at my website after realizing I have my own domain, and it could be such that they'd formulate an adverse opinion of me. All these things have crossed my mind, especially when I post something that I might not freely mention in a casual conversation.
But I feel compelled to do so, and will continue to do so, with the intent of asking the questions that continue to come to mind, answering those I discover along the way, and describing the view from here as best as I can. And yes, I'll likely slip in an occasional toilet joke, too.