A New Reality

 I was doing ok. And then on our father and son and son walk. Dad’s phone made a sound. A simple sound. A notification. We were enjoying the brisk air, the walk together. Morris was sniffing and investigating. I was happy and present. Not something I get to be often. 

And then that mechanical device made a mechanical sound and I was pulled from the moment. I lost the plot the point. And for a split second I was back in a familiar safe space. An echo. 

That mechanical sound, while we three walked in seeming contentment. Beneath a clear blue sky. Clean air. Sharing in the moment. It pulled me back. Not to reality but to memory. 

Without a conscious thought, I made an assumption. I thought I knew the moment. And like any one who has false confidence in the future. I was mistaken. 

Because when that mechanical sound happened, my soul thought a thing that was soon to be refuted by my mind and reality. 

My father, my brother and I were on a walk. In the sun, wandering. To my soul the only reason for such a mechanical sound was clear as the beautiful sky above me. 

If these three souls are on a walk. If this trio is out and about, there can be only one reason for any mechanism to make a sound. 

Half way through any adventure, any moment, any shared experience…Mom would check in. 

All ok? What’s the eta? When will you be home? When can we all be safe in the walls of home? 

That damn mechanical sound happened and for a moment I just knew it was mom checking in, giving us space but also keeping tabs. 

In reality it was a spam call on my father’s phone, quickly sent to voicemail. 

And the harsh reality set in, she wasn’t waiting for us at home, patient but anxious. Supportive but worried. 

It was a hard moment. And in that moment I failed a bit. I should have said something to my father and my brother, maybe they had the same impulse or reaction to the sound. 

But no, I went full white middle aged man and swallowed my emotions, my connection. I stopped to take a picture and tears fell.

I did  not share that moment with the only two people who could have maybe understood. I held it and locked it away. 

Selfishly I didn’t want to ruin the moment, to share the steps and the sunshine with my brother and father. I wanted to keep walking. 

I should have had the strength to share my pain. How can I expect them to share with me when they feel if I don’t when I do? 

Mom, we are still figuring out this world without the most knowledgeable person about emotions and connection. 

We will keep trying. 

Wise Like Watson

 The patio at work has been open for a week. 7 days. It has provided innumerable moments and stories. But the only one that has made me want to write is the story of Watson. 

Watson came in with his owner tonight, a friend had gotten there first and secured a place on the patio. Watson and his lady were running behind. To my confusion, the friend did not mention there would be a dog joining them. We are the patio and dogs are allowed but they can't enter through the regular ways. They must go around and knock on a door that is an emergency exit only. 

The knocks. Loud and insistent. They confused me at first. I doubted that someone was actually trying to use that door. I assumed it was an angry neighbor or some such thing. I did not expect Watson and his lady to be the source of the insistent and impatient knocking. 

I opened the door, immediately felt silly for wondering, and escorted them to their friend's gotten table. Watson was not eager or bored, he seemed content to follow his lady's lead and that was that. I didn't know much of Watson at this point and what I knew was but a veil. 

Watson's lady and her friend spent nearly 3 hours at their table. It was not a bother to me, I checked in occasionally, they had drinks and an appetizer and then later each ordered a meal. On a beautiful night with the patio in full swing, I didn't give Watson or his ladies much thought as they seemed content. 

Then like a lightning bolt, there was a tap on my arm as I finished another table's order. It was Watson's lady's friend. 

"Please don't go out of your way, but my friend's dog, Watson, has wandered off, so if you could, keep an eye out. And let us know."

The patio is completely enclosed. There isn't a hole big enough for Watson to escape. 

But in the middle of 12 tables and pure chaos, my mind now only has one goal, find Watson. 

To my relief, Watson was not far. He had his leash still attached to his collar but he made it at least 12-15 feet away. I'm sure gobbling up dropped fries and snacks along the way. Several tables further north, he had found a comfortable perch, curled up on some random person's purse and snoozing away. 

So comfortable he was not easily removed to his lady's table again. The folks at the table he found refuge in didn't know he was there. Were annoyed at first, but their annoyance from a random interruption faded fast when they discovered the sleeping contented pup. 

Watson returned to his lady's table and sat diligently at her feet for the rest of their conversation. But he didn't look as content or as happy as he had snoozing on that stranger's purse. Watson had tasted adventure, and he liked the taste. He felt the surge of being off-leash. And he had learned its value. 

I want to be wise like Watson and take the adventures that may come. Thank you, Watson. 

I hope you Sing.

 Recently I missed an event at my former school. It's not surprising since I have given that land to Spain if you will. And I have contributed more to the University of Tennessee Chattanooga than my own alma mater over the last 17 years. I mean I didn't go there but I moved and suddenly started getting emails and mailings asking for money and I can't ruin my own good name that way. I mean their own my name. I clearly can ruin my own. 

But this week, a thing happened and it brought up a lot of other things. And like any domino, those things needed to be dealt with. Hopefully in a logical, healthy, and non-destructive way. 

So obviously I made an angry Facebook post. About how the church had failed me. How it's messed up that when my wife and children moved their membership from our church in Kentucky. Instead of the church being like, hey that's odd. Let's check in with this guy. They instead derostered my ass. (For the non-Lutherans, that's like excommunication but Lutheran and way less binding. Bring a check and you'll be fine) 

Crap. I did it again. I made it about me. I do that. I'm a self-hating narcissist. Ironically my therapist says that isn't a real thing but wow, are they wrong. 

A point, not obviously the real point because I am still in active therapy and make everything about me, is that I didn't get to sing at a really awesome person's retirement. I haven't been in that building in years. But I do wish I could have sang. 

Not because I believe every lyric. But because I believe in the person. 

Dr Dave is a talented, passionate and driven man. But I will never forget the day he looked in my eyes and broke a rule because it was the right thing. 

Choir tour junior year. We were barely in Canada. But still in Canada. Outside of Toronto. I had just the bad before done a less than passable job at singing some solos in Handel's Messiah. A piece that you don't fuck with. I felt embarrassed and I didn't think my choir director was all that pleased with me. 

We performed at a church, maybe it was Canada maybe it was Michigan, who can really tell the difference. And my girlfriend at the time collapsed. Maybe the travel. Maybe not having regular meals. Maybe whatever. But she couldn't stand. 

We finished the concert. She had some water but still wasn't feeling right. So it was determined that she would go to the hospital. I don't know that I sang a word after I saw her get light-headed. I might have stood in my spot but by the time it was over I wasn't going to leave her side. 

I was not family. Whether we were in Michigan or Canada or a bit of both, I had to right to go. But as the volunteers were getting her ready to go to get checked out, all it took was one look. One moment of eye contact. The rules said I couldn't go. But Dr. Dave said I could. 

Things turned out fine. Some fluids and some allergy meds and we were back at the host home before too late. The next day we rejoined the rest of the crew and finished the tour. 

I do have a strong recollection that we were in Canada because I leaned against the wrong wall in the er and suddenly Mounties showed up. but all memories are flawed. 

But what I do clearly remember is in the midst of a weird situation. When bylaws and rules would say that I can't go. Dr. Dave looked me in the eyes and let me go. Maybe because you don't argue with a Winegarden in Canada, but more likely because he was given the opportunity to make a choice and he did what he thought was right. 

He's an amazing choir director. Not two years later as my wife at the time was singing with the Boston Pops in their Tanglewood chorus, the living personification of Gilderoy Lockhart who was directing the pops knew his name. 

But I will always remember the moment he let me follow the one I loved even if it wasn't protocol. He cared. I don't know if you can ask for more from a teacher.