How Mark Got His Groove Back

I was going to name this post, “The Runner Stumbles” or maybe “The Dieter Eats Cheesecake.” That’s the way it feels. I started blogging for several reasons. I wanted to learn about posting and embedding video. I love writing and I wanted to develop my craft and stretch myself artistically. Take that rusty bike, repair the wheels, oil the gears; put a playing card in the spokes and take her for a spin. (That’s a metaphor) And I was doing it. I was writing consistently and having a blast. I could feel the creative juices flowing. People were reading my posts and being impacted by what I was writing. Some posts made them feel happy; some made them feel angry but it was an awesome experience to make people feel something. I was looking at unfinished projects with new interest. And then it happened; Cheesecake. You can relate can’t you? Maybe you’ve exercised three days a week for 3 months straight and something happens and you start sleeping late. You’ve lost 20 pounds and all of a sudden you realize you’re eating a Double Double and you the new jeans are fitting you tight. That’s how I feel about my writing. I was doing it. I had a hobby. To some extent, I had a dream or at least a daydream. The Oscar wasn’t in my hand, but I was making acceptance speeches in the shower again.

Like the rest of our busy lives, there isn't any one person or thing to blame. It’s no ONE's fault. Life happens. My life, which I still wouldn’t trade for anything, happens. Cheesecake. But I’m back. It’s not easy but I’m back. And the title of this post is appropriate. It’s not about the stumbling or the cheesecake. It’s about the action that is supposed to take place after the realization. It’s time to get back on that treadmill and work my way up to a marathon (again, more metaphor). I’ve got to order the Double Double protein style instead of animal style and do something so that I don’t have to unpack the fat jeans. (Okay, that’s not a metaphor.) I’ve got lots to say. I hope you’ll still be here to listen. I'm not done, yet.

Semper Fidelis

On January 1st, a hero passed into eternity. A man of dignity and honor; A proud Marine, a silver star at Tarawa, a purple heart at Guadacanal; a loving father, and a gentle grandfather (papa).
Click here and then "movie" to view images of his life.

And when he gets to Heaven
St. Peter he will tell,
One more Marine reporting sir,
I've served my time in Hell.

We Interrupt This Blog

For A Little Christmas

I'll be back with more Nebulous thoughts next week. Until then, test your skill with the following.
And Remember: Wise Men Still Seek Him.

Name the Christmas Carol

Christmas Trivia:

1. In Frosty the Snowman, who brought Frosty back to life?
2. Who lost $8,000 in It's a Wonderful Life?
3. In How the Grinch Stole Christmas, what biological shortcoming made the Grinch so mean?
4. Who tells you she's in town by tap, tap, tappin' at your windowpane?
5. What is the biggest selling Christmas single of all time?
6. What was Scrooge's first name?
7. Where was I when I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus?
8. What was the name of Rudolph's dogsled driving friend?
9. Who said "God Bless Us, Every One!"?
10. What carol contains the line "O tidings of comfort and joy"?
11. In The Night Before Christmas I sprang from my bed to see what?
12. Name the three reindeer whose names begin with a "D"?
13. In the song "Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer" what did Grandma go to get?
14.What was the first gift my true love sent on the sixth day of Christmas?
15. In what city did Miracle on 34th Street take place?
16. In It's a Wonderful Life, how did Clarence cleverly save George's life?
17. Who kept time with the Little Drummer Boy?
18.In The Night Before Christmas, where were the stockings hung?
19. What is the name of the little girl in most versions of The Nutcracker?
20. What is the last ghost called in A Christmas Carol?
21. What color is the Grinch?
22. How many pipers piping did my true love give to me?
23. In the movie The Santa Clause, who starred as the substitute Santa Claus??
24. What was Rudolph's punishment for his red nose? 25. A Charlie Brown Christmas, who plays the dusty innkeeper in the Christmas play?

Answers to Christmas Carols:

1. Jingle Bells 2. Walking in a Winter Wonderland 3. Santa Claus is Coming to Town 4. Joy to the World 5. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer 6. O' Come All Ye Faithful 7. I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas 8. Oh, Christmas Tree 9. What Child is This? 10. We Three Kings 11. Deck the Halls 12. I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In 13. O' Holy Night 14. Noel 15. Away In a Manger 16. The Twelve Days of Christmas 17. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus 18. All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth 19. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire 20. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear 21. Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow! 22. Silent Night 23. O' Little Town of Bethlehem 24. Silver Bells

Answers to Christmas Trivia:

1 Santa Claus 2 Uncle Billy 3 His heart was two sizes too small 4 Suzy Snowflake 5 "White Christmas" 6 Ebenezer 7 On the Stairs 8 Yukon Cornelius 9 Tiny Tim 10 "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" 11 What was the matter 12 Dasher, Donder, Dancer 13 Her medication 14 Six geese a-laying 15 New York 16 He jumped into the river first 17 The ox and the lamb 18 By the chimney 19 Clara 20 The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come 21 Green 22 Eleven 23 Tim Allen 24 Could not play in reindeer games 25 Pigpen

A Prozac for Your Thoughts

In general, there are two types of people; even-keeled rocks of strength who can meet any challenge with a calm steely reserve, and volcanoes who explode all over everyone and everything. In my opinion, both are good. I have a deep respect for the person who is unwavering and controlled. I understand they might not join the conga line or the group hug. I know they won’t be crying at the end of Big Fish or any movie where Debra Winger dies, but that’s okay. Someone has to describe the spider to the 911 operator or make sure the wild kid doesn’t let go of the piñata bat. Working tear ducts are a small sacrifice. What about the blow hard? He don’t bug me, either. This guy may give ulcers, but he’ll never get them and if the dog pees every time he shouts, so be it. It’s not my carpet. Yes, I actually respect people who are on both of these extremes. Each has her or his place. Be it working in an office cubicle or at the DMV. I believe people are wired a certain way. I’m not going to get into the genetics/environment discussion. That would require a clear thought process and my thinking is far too nebulous for that.

Now, just like when I’m dancing, I’m all over the place. If you have a heart attack, I’m your man. I can notify security, assign an elevator monitor, get the poor suckers emergency card copied while I describe the lovely shade of green he’s turning to the 911 babe or have the courage to say out loud to the paramedic, “No, his skin naturally has that grayish tinge to it.” I bet during all of this my blood pressure remains a constant calm; probably wouldn’t even find a pulse. I can also throw a good rant when necessary. Ignore my phone calls? (I don’t THINK so!) Tell me, “I understand your frustration, but I can’t help you. That's not our policy” (Let's just take a moment and review that policy, okay?!) I’ve made grown men cry and rendered quick talking females speechless. (If nothing else, I am a gentleman.) People actually ask me to make calls for them and “Pull a Mark.” My daughter walked into the room after I hung up with Time Warner Cable and gave me a high-five. (In all fairness, I asked to speak to the supervisor and she said she could solve my problem.)

But the rest of the time I’m all over the place, too. I can’t hear good news without my pulse racing or bad news and not feel my heart in my throat. I can’t look at a picture of my kids for too long and not tear up with joy or worry or excitement or pride…you get my drift. And the problem comes when the good news is immediately followed by the bad, and then the exciting and then the unjust and then the kids.
Have you ever had a shock to your system? I’m not talking about an ice cube down your back or a glimpse of an overweight lady's thong or a big drink of Diet Coke when you think there’s Dr. Pepper in the glass. I’m talking about real system overload. This week I’ve been going through it big time. I’ve heard it all; good news, bad news, happy and sad news. It’s been a wild rollercoaster ride without a seatbelt. I know it’s better to feel all of this than to feel numb or to feel nothing. I don’t necessarily want to change it, but understanding it would be nice. I’d ask for comments, but you’re not ready. That’s okay. It’s enough knowing you’re there.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Years ago, I purchased two CD’s of Christmas music. One was Kenny G’s first collection of Christmas songs and the second was by Mahalia Jackson (I know, eclectic). I liked Kenny and since I played the clarinet myself (before my lip gave out and I started making spitting sounds when I tried for the upper register), I decided to give him a try. I had heard the song, “I wonder as I wander.” (Vanessa Williams sings the song on YouTube, but you didn’t hear that from me.) The words were so hauntingly beautiful; I just had to own a copy. I had heard of Miss Jackson but had never actually heard her sing. Within the first week, I regretted both choices. Shortly after I made the purchase, I read an interview given by Mr. G, where he stated that because he wasn't a Christian and didn’t believe in any of this Christmas stuff, he had to approach the CD from a strictly musical perspective. (GASP!) At that moment, I decided I would only purchase Christmas music from artists who believe in the product. (Why not? I have the same philosophy when buying cars.) The next shock came when I put on Mahalia to help me get over Mr. “I’ll-blow-any-song-through-my-kazoo-for-a-buck.” G. Well, I got over Kenny. I got way over Kenny, past Christmas half way through Lent. I understand that Mahalia Jackson is a legend but when I hear a Christmas song I’m taking a shot at being in a good mood. Her deep baritone voice sounded like a 45 single of the lovely Vanessa Williams played at the speed for a 33 LP. (If you’re old enough, you’ll get the idea. If not, it was slow.) It was depressing. Silent Night was even worst. All may have been calm, but it certainly was not bright. I would love to here her sing, “Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas.” Burl Ives was a baritone and he managed to keep it peppy. I didn’t know what to do. When I listened to Kenny G, I wanted to kill him. When I listened to Mahalia Jackson, I wanted to kill myself. It was at that moment that I made another decision. I decided I would only purchase Christmas music from people who believed in the product and did not make me feel suicidal. (I think that was a good call.)

Thanks to my boss and KOST 103.5, I’ve been listening to Christmas carols since the second week in November and I’ve realized something. I don’t like Christmas music. Don’t get me wrong. I’m the first one to join in a chorus of “Away in a Manger” and nothing brings me to tears faster than “O Holy Night” (Well, maybe Kenny tooting out “What a Friend I have in Jesus” or Mahalia singing “Santa Baby”) But listening to hour after hour of Wham singing “Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart” or No Doubt belting out “Oi to the World” does not bring to mind Mary giving birth in a stable. Two-thirds of Wilson Phillips (the Wilson part) singing “Hey, Santa!” and Rod Stewart trying to convince Dolly Parton into snuggling because “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” doesn’t help me reflect on how Jesus, my Savior did come for to die. (Actually, the visual image of Roddy succeeding makes my stomach queezy.) It makes me wonder, what is the intent of the holiday for those who do not consider it a holy day? The packages, the crowds, the baking, the lights and the tinsel; what does it all mean? Maybe Mahalia expressed it best? Are we wondering and wandering about clueless to all that God has done for us; not with a sense of hope and awe or even amazed puzzlement but with a baritone sense of emptiness. And that’s why I don’t like listening to this type of Christmas music. Because it would be like me giving seminars in how to fix plumbing, or swing a bat, or do a math problem (I can seriously go on.) Things about which I don’t know much (and I’m honestly not interested in learning).but if you give me a wrench or a bat or a pencil and paper I could give you a good impersonation. Eventually, I may even convince myself that I’m committed to something or doing something of meaning. At that point, God help your water pressure or your batting average or your math grade. I honestly hope I do not offend. I'm not judging sincerity. I'm just curious about motivation. To each his own. Let me know what you think. I'll be here. Kicking back, jamming to my latest CD, Kenny G’s "A Very Special Kwanzaa.”

Hello, My Name is Mark. I'm a Tube-aholic

So I’ve got this new monkey on my back. While researching my nebulous musings and teachings I have stumbled on and become addicted to this little gem of a place called YouTube. At this place, you can watch absolutely ANYTHING you want conveniently delivered at the click of your mouse without commercials in cute little 4 minute packages. It’s like cable TV without the infomercials.
Honestly, don’t you just hate that “Set it and Forget it”guy and that lady who talks about making mini-fruit pies with white bread and apple pie filling. (I don't care if you DO sprinkle powdered sugar on it. That’s not pie; just a weird toasted sandwich.) But YouTube, this place is Nirvana. By the way you can watch their music video, “Smells Like Teen Spirit” anytime you want. (I honestly believe if it weren’t for the poor hygiene-thing, Grunge would still be big.) And YouTube is contagious, too. At my last men’s group, one brother’s eyes lit up when I mentioned watching a documentary about Raul Ries and another said, “Really, H.R. Pufnstuf? I remember that song.”
(But Puf‘nStuf was watching, too and knew exactly what to do. He saw the witch's boat attack and as the boy was fighting back…Don’t judge me, I said this was a problem.) And you shouldn't judge. There is valuable information here. YouTube is not just fluff. You can watch stirring discussions on Einstein's Theory of Relativity or the impact of Global Warming on polar bears. (No one ever does, but it's there.) In the course of one YouTube session I watched a behind the scenes look at I Love Lucy (Fred was an alcoholic. Ethel hated him. Ricky was a womanizer); I listened to the lovely and tragic Miss Patsy Cline sing, “Sweet Dreams” (the hair on the back of my neck stood on end) and I shook my tushie to Nancy Sinatra singing, “These Boots Are Made For Walking” on the Ed Sullivan Show (my… never mind) And it didn’t cost me a thing; just my monthly internet bill and two hours of my time. Well, and if you want to get picky about it, 8 hours of my time because I did this every night this week. Oh and while I was doing this I didn’t spend any quality time with kids or work on the short story idea I had in mind (The idea passed) and my wife went to bed… ALONE.
We recently got rid of the television because my family was segmented. Everyone was spending every free minute in a different room of the house and my wife wanted us to reconnect. It worked wonders. Just last week my family was interacting and communicating, or at least that’s what it sounded like they were doing. I was busy watching Suzanne Sugarbaker deal with her weight (They Shoot Fat Chicks, Don’t They?) Ross and Rachel end their relationship (They were on a break.) and Will Truman confuse Anastasia Beaverhausen for his friend Karen Walker. (Makes me laugh just typing it.) What did I miss anyway? Reading my kids a story? Cuddling with my wife? Being an active participant in this God-given life of mine instead of mindless video-viewing blob? (At least I’m not hating so much that I’m spitting up bile anymore, right?)
So there you have it. I admit I’ve got issues but I still don’t think it’s a problem. I can quit whenever I want to. I can do this socially and it won’t take over my life. I’ll just have to take it One Day at a Time. (I wonder what would happen if I typed Valerie Bertinelli?)

With A Grateful Heart

"Thanksgiving Day is coming!”
Oh, Mr. Turkey said.
“How very careful I must be,
Or I will lose my head!”
The Pumpkin heard the turkey.
“How frightening too, Oh My!
They’ll mix me up with sugar and spice.
And I’ll be a pumpkin pie!”

While tragic to large fowls and squash, this song has always been one of the highlights of my Thanksgiving. As far back as I can remember, my mother sang this song every year. Funny thing, a child’s reality; the things you remember so vividly now seem to have taken place in a dream or an old television show. It’s as if my memories are stored in black and white. Only the present takes place in living color. I remember running around the yard with all of my cousins; too many to fit in the house let alone sit around one table. At dinner time, the adults sat in the kitchen. We were served on paper plates and ate outside resting our food and drinks on the hood of the car. As it got late, we plotted how one of us could go home with the other family and spend the night; keep the party going as long as possible. We weren’t concerned about cooking or dirty dishes or gluten or divorce. I remember my dad getting mad when we picked at the skin of the bird, and when I teased him for not being able to reach the pot in the back of the high cupboard. One year, my mom forgot to get punch, so she made a packet of Jell-O and told us to drink it quick. Mijo always made something new; poached pears one year that no one ate; rice pudding another I heard it tasted good (from him, of course) no one else remembers tasting it. Every year he complains we’re eating too early or too late or too fast or too slow. (Do you get my point, here?) One year, my dad put brandy in the yams and ruined them. (I’m still holding that grudge.) The year after he died it wasn’t the same but we went on, some of us cooking, mijo complaining, all of us singing the song.

Things are different now and the idea of picking one day to remember and give thanks seems absurd. Now, I’m in charge of the turkey. I’m avoiding the dishes. I’m concerned about the gluten and coping with the other things. In terms of stopping and being thankful, Thanksgiving is a useless holiday to me; rather redundant actually. I don’t need it. You see, I truly thank my God every day. I look at how He has blessed me with my family, my church, my friends, my home, my job (I can seriously keep going). I know how blessed I am. I don’t need to stop and think. I know who I am, where I’m from, where I deserve to be and where He has placed me and I am very thankful. I’ll take the day anyway because it gives me some time with the people I love dearly. This year we have a new baby and her daddy joining us for the first time. We’ll sing them the song. Maybe, we’ll go outside and eat on the hood of the car. Yes, things are different now.