Talk The Talk...

I am out here, On the Road, again. The dreariness of the Northwest reminds me why this isn't the top spot in the country to live, despite its lush beauty. But there is a reason for everything. If this part of the world had eighty degree days in January on the regular, it would be bursting at the seams with inhabitants, thereby losing a lot of its appeal. These four day trips have a double edged affect on me. I do enjoy getting away from home for short stretches, if for nothing else than to clear my head with constant solitude. This usually entails a drive of no more than two hours to whatever intended destination. A favorite Uncle has provided me with the musical backdrop, a vintage Miles Davis CD of Greatest Hits. The flip side of a trip like this is the torture of being away from the Girlie Girl. I thought being upright and mobile would be the penultimate watershed moment that signaled the inevitable crossover from infant to toddler. It pales, though, in comparison to her talking. One word attempts that follow the prompting of her mom and me. "Mine" sounds like nine, and "Happy" is becoming clearer and easier with every time she says it. I notice her watching my lips as they form to say the word, giving her the template to duplicate as she tries. The killer is when she says "Hi", and will press the issue until you greet her likewise. She still gets all dressed up, like that should be our hint that she has no intention of being left behind. Boa's and bracelets, Kangols and sunglasses. And of course, she never leaves, or prepares to leave the house without the toy cell phone Granny got her for Christmas. It's just a matter of time, a short one at that, and she'll be burning up minutes. Minutes that dissipate into the ethers, never to be lived again...

Christina Taylor Green

There is a passage from the Bilble that speaks about " a corn of wheat falling to the ground and dying". And if it dies how it will bring forth much fruit. This quote by Jesus struck me as I read more about the nine year old senselessly gunned down in Tucson this weekend. Christina Taylor Green was born on September 11, 2001. That is the day that will live in infamy as terrorist brought down the World Trade Center and killed thousands in the process. Christina was interested in politics and wanted to know more about how our government works. Christina's dad was a scout for the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team. The fruit that will be brought forth from this horrible tragedy? It is way too early to tell. The vitriol being spewed by our politicians will more than likely subside for a minute. After our short memories reduce the impact of this weekend, it may very well be business as usual. We will go back to our polarized positions and our distrust of the fundamental motives behind them. Ideally I want my kids to grow up in a better space than I did. I want my eight year daughter to have the same inquisitive nature about life and our political system as Christina Taylor Green. I don't want her to pay for it with her own life. I hope Christina's death will not be in vain. The mere fact that it has provoked my thought process along these lines, means that it hasn't been. But there is so much more fruit that needs to be brought forth. So much more...

BLUE BENZ...

A good friend of mine passed away a couple of months ago. He was as nice a guy as you'd ever want to meet. He was particularly proud of his two grown daughters, making many a trip across country to support them in whatever ways they may have needed. I'm leaving soon on a redeye to see my son at college down south. I think about my friend who never hesitated to hop on a 5 hour plus flight. I fly all the time, way too much for my own liking. It is an occupational necessity that I could easily live without. I've had second thoughts about making this trip. It is at a time when I have a two week respite from work and travel. More importantly, I was given the dreaded "Middle Seat" on the long flight back. But I feel there is a need for me to make this trip. Call it parental intuition. Issues have arisen that I need to observe first hand, allowing me to better able evaluate and offer advice, if I am asked to. Back to my recently deceased friend, his family lives right across the street from me. His daughter is in town for the holidays and uses his car to get around. In one of those serendipitous moments, I found myself following her for a good distance, both of us headed home. It brought back memories of the good times we shared. It also reminded me of how much he loved his girls. I could only imagine the connection his daughter felt driving his car. The smells, the aura, the feeling of being close to her Father through one of  his most cherished possesions. It is a vintage Mercedes Benz, owned by him for many years. He took good care of that car, the same way he took good care of everythning else he loved. We leave this world at the appointed time. Fortunately, we leave a piece of ourselves behind, for those who cared for us most to remember us by...