Tuesday, September 3, 2019

For My ...

Velocity wave from the porch. Quiet weekend in a cast. So last week I’m at lunch and we started to discuss this whole “for my birthday please donate to my favorite cause” thing. Now these opinions are completely my own but sweet Jesus how many birthday gifts do you give a year? No seriously. I don’t know about all of you, but we have to be inner circle before I’m even considering a gift. A card? Well Christ, perhaps ... no only inner circle. I‘m pretty social and I’m saying two of my inner circle. The idea I would be giving someone a gift and so why not take that cash and donate it instead is absurd. Not gonna happen. Goddamn. I’ll buy you a beer if we happen to see each other a couple of days before or a couple of days after. But this Saint Valentine‘s Day notion that you’ve got to bring enough for the whole class - is ass. Maybe it’s a guy thing. I asked a buddy at lunch last week and he agrees with me.

Which brings me to my own conceit. No one but me posts anything truly personal on FB. (Im not talking about pics) And I thought about it. It’s really ballsy to assume anyone would: 1. Give a shit 2. Read even for the gossip of it all. 3. Care. It’s like verbal masturbatory clips that I post for ... what? I like writing. It’s how I clear my head, heart, and organize my thoughts. But that can all be done privately. Today it all seems sort of ridiculous and/or pathetic.

Which brings me to the final aspect of this wave. One can feel an emotional connection to strangers. Last month I stood in a cemetery in North Dakota and I didn’t know a single soul there. But I glanced down at a grave and saw a plea for prayers. And I felt moved to tears. I felt a connection. All these years apart and we shared a faith. Since that moment Ive diligently prayed from Barbara and Frank and every morning my family and I say their names in our morning prayers. We’re connected. And we didn’t meet. And we didn’t give each other birthday gifts. And we didn’t share our innermost emotions.

Yet.

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