A touch of grey, a little lest angst

I attended my High School reunion this weekend. I grew up in a town weird enough to freak Hunter S. Thompson out, but my High School experience was pretty average. Like many, I struggled in High School, not academically, but socially. I made pretty good grades, but I didn't fit in with the "brainiacs." I played sports, but I also could hang with the hippies. My parents didn't make enough money for me to be with the "ins" but they invited me to a few of their parties because I could make people laugh.

At my 10 year reunion, everyone looked great. There was a lot of sexual tension in the air. We were still young and we were taking on the world. I had a good time at the Friday night mixer that year but ran from the Saturday night dinner dance like a republican at an ethics class.

At my 20 year reunion, people were a little more relaxed, but there was still a little more one-up-man-ship than was comfortable for me.

At this reunion (30) the conversations focused on family, kids, taking care of elderly parents, non-profit work and of course, politics. I was nervous as I walked up to the restaurant/bar where it was being held. Will I know anyone? I did know quite a few folks. I hooked up with some dear friends I had lost contact with and we are back in touch. I saw myself through the eyes of people who hadn't seen me in 30 years, and I liked the feedback I was given. I wasn't really looking for validation, just connection, so the former was gravy.

One of the most interesting moments of the night came for me when I talked to Danny Fromhart. Danny and I were on the wrestling team together as freshman. In a scrimmage match, I broke Danny's arm and he never wrestled again. For the past 30 years, Rick McGough has tormented me with comments like "Danny would have been a pro baseball player, but you screwed that up," or "Danny's coming (to the 10 and 20 year reunions) and he wants to get even." When I talked to Danny, he said Rick had been goading him in the same way for all these years. We both agreed that McGough was an asshole and had a nice time talking and catching up on life.

The last half hour I was at the party, I was talking to a group of cheerleaders and thinking to myself how funny it is that 30 years ago I wouldn't have had the courage to talk to this group. I like being the age I am. Time is sort of an equalizer. I imagine at the 40 year reunion those of us fortunate to still be "among the quick" will be mostly talking about retirement and our health. I'll be there.

See you at Bumbershoot!

Here is the link on the Bumbershoot website about my winning the Haiku contest.

http://www.bumbershoot.org/haiku-contest.htm

The Folinator

Here is a picture of Foli, my cat. She reads minds, juggles and plays a mean blues harmonica.

"a pig, in a cage, on antibiotics"

A series of things happened. I watched a couple of movies that hit home. First it was "Fight Club". Although I'd seen it a few times, it really hit me how much of a corporate clone I have become. Then I saw "Into the Wild" and my world started to shift. The story of a young kid dying of starvation in the Alaska wilderness is tragic, but the movie also portrayed the incredible spirit that this young person had as well as the impact he had on other people. I know I'm forgetting other recent events, but just a few days ago, it happened again. I was listening to Radiohead's song "fitter happier" from OK Computer. The last words spoken by the automated voice are "a pig, in a cage, on antibiotics." That's how I feel. I've slowly traded peace of mind for security, creativity for monotony, bliss for drudgery. I work in a salt mine, a governmental placating machine. I was listening to KEXP a couple of hours ago and Joseph Arthur was being interviewed. He said "there is really plenty of time." What would a life like that feel like?

I'm not sure, but I have been thinking more and more about how I could spend more time being creative. I'm an artist. I need to feed my soul or I fear that I am going to lose my fucking mind. Where do I start? Save money. Contact people who will support me in my dream. Look for ways to bridge the gap, moving from the full-time grind to work you can do from a laptop, then integrate more music and other arts into your life until it feels like it is enough. Or work toward a place when I can jump off the tower completely. Hire a life coach? I don't know about paying someone a lot of money to tell me what I already know "he who is not busy being born is busy dying." Dylan wrote that. "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans", John Lennon wrote that. "I want to peel off your chrome," Michael Clark wrote that. "I have absolutely everything, except a life." I wrote that.

Sun Valley, Nevada

This isn't your grandfather's Sun Valley.  My daughter lives here.  I drove by her house yesterday morning and she wasn't home.  Her mom is earning extra money with a paper route, which gets her up at 3:00 a.m. to make a few bucks, so she didn't hear me ring the doorbell.  It was already almost 90 degrees at 10:30 a.m.  I drove down to the strip mall which serves as "town central" to the Burger King.  The young men and women working and eating there had haunting vacant stares.  There's no American dream here.  It's dog eat dog, and these folks are begging for scraps.  I bought a paper, and as I ate my "Western Bacon Cheeseburger," read that the United States still has the highest number of millionaires, but they make up less than 2% of the population.  Every one of these young adults bought into the lie at some point that they could be one of the few people in America that benefit from our great capitalist experiment.  Good scientists give experiments up when they fail.  It's time we kiss this one goodbye.  My brother and his daughter are here as Ron Paul delegates, infiltrating the Republican party.  I'm proud of him, and I believe him when he says the only chance the United States has of pulling ourselves out of this downward slide is to end the empire, bring all of the soldiers home from the 100 plus countries they are stationed.  The part I disagree with Ron Paul about is that if we do that, conserve our resources for the people in this country, then the free market will take over and people will be taken care of.  The last thing Milton Friedman accomplished before he died was to convince the government to dismantle the New Orleans public school system during the great swindle called "reconstruction."  Go tell a black kid in New Orleans that the free market is going to take care of him/her.  Federal, State, County and Local governments were set up to protect, preserve and foster the public good.  If we invest our money wisely there, we can get back to having the kind of country our parents passed on to us.  We did it before, we can do it again.