I don't do it often. He's been dead for 17 years now, and I don't think about him a lot. But this dream was vivid...he and I were talking, and even though I don't recall the subject I know there was tension between us; unspoken (as always, and probably on my part). But more to the point, I discovered a huge stack of journals he'd kept, with colossal detail on his feelings about and reactions to the people around him from day to day. The journals showed an inner awareness that I never saw from the outside; and it wasn't really a good feeling -- as though he'd been hiding this side of himself from me (from all of his family). The journals were really more like the sort of thing I might have written (hey, it *was* MY dream).
It left me disturbed, and not a little because I realized that he's still with me. I've been away from home for over 30 years, he's been dead for almost 20, and I'm not done with him yet. Will I ever be, and what would that be like? Am I fooling myself when I think I might be? Am I still a little boy when I think of him that way? I've thought for a long time that I didn't need his approval any more. Do I, though?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Another boring post from another trans-continental flight
11:04 AM, January 15, 2009
I lucked out twice in a row, scoring an Economy Plus seat (5 extra inches, woo-hoo!) with nobody sitting next to me on the trip out Monday and the trip back today. It makes flying about twice as good (or half as bad, I suppose). Thinking back I'm a little surprised to realize that I haven't flown since last August, which was also to Dulles Airport. In fact, last year I only flew 15K miles, which is not even enough to qualify for premier frequent flyer status -- the first year in, oh, the past five or so at least. I can't say I miss traveling so much, and I don't know that it will stay that way, but you never know with this sort of thing.
Choosing to read Mary Roach's book 'Stiff' on this flight may have been bad timing...even though I took my normal Bonine medication before takeoff, her vivid descriptions of dissection, vivisection and decomposition were starting to make me queasy so I had to set it aside. It's a great read, though, and I heartily recommend it -- along with "Bonk", her study of the science of sex research. But I don't think I'll pick it up again until this flight ends...
I'm on my way back home from Manassas, Virginia, about 30 minutes outside Washington DC. I've been there since Monday (it's Thursday) visiting with Lockheed Martin employees who used to be part of my company, on a project which I'm still involved in. I think it was a good visit, and it reminds me of some of the reasons I prefer the smaller company environment (that is, NOT Lockheed Martin!). Nothing major, of course, but in Santa Clara I never get lost inside a building trying to get from the lobby to a conference room!
I had considered sticking around the DC area until next week, to catch the inauguration, but that would be more hassle than it's worth unless I already had a ticket. As it is, wanting to be one of the estimated 2 million people in town when it's so cold (and Palo Alto is so warm, 78 degrees yesterday!) seems rather silly. So home I go.
I have been watching the second season of 'The Tudors', the Showtime series about Henry VIII and his wives. We are currently growing tired of wife #2, Ann Boleyn, who has lamentably only provided a female child so far. She's still smokin' hot (Natalie Dormer) but King Henry has gotten bored with her. I hope my battery lasts till the end of this episode; Ann just gave Henry his approval to sleep with one of her ladies in waiting (one less pretty than Ann, and one she can control). Could be fun to watch, but I'm always self-conscious about what's on my laptop screen when I'm flying. Much as I love the boobies I don't know if the people in the row behind me might approve.
Oh, snap! Queen Ann just got totally schooled by Mary, Henry's daughter by his first wife Katherine. Still, I know it won't turn out well for Mary, but I also know it's going to turn out even worse for Ann. But that is certain to be several episodes ahead, if not next season.
Last month I turned 50. Five decades, two score and ten, a half century. Got my AARP card in the mail (how the hell did the American Association of Retired Persons find me ?!?) So far I certainly don't feel very different; in fact, I don't really feel very different from when I was thirty...although some things are harder to see, and the guy in the mirror is looking older and older (maybe a blessing that the vision is going too?). But turning fifty gave me the opportunity to give myself a rare present -- a wonderful dinner party with my family (in part at least) and as many of my good friends as I could fit into a ballroom. In a way this was the wedding reception I would have had, if I'd ever married. It was an expensive party, and took a little time & effort to plan, but it turned out almost exactly as I had hoped. I sorely missed the friends and family who couldn't be there, and there were a few who I thought long and hard about inviting but didn't...properly so, I think. Even so I had about eighty five people for the whole evening, and another eight or ten who came by during the first hour and a half (never underestimate the drawing power of free liquor!). Even I was a little shocked to see how many people I could draw out on a cold December night, and most so nicely dressed to boot (photos of the evening here).
It was a wonderful night, and I'm very glad that I have it to remember.
Oh hey, King Henry is now sleeping with Madge, the queen's lady in waiting - with the queen's approval! No boobies on the screen, though. Rats. And here's Ann parading around with her big pregnant belly holding baby #2...oops, miscarriage. Guess that's the end of Henry & Madge. Boy, Ann's dad is a real prick. Whored his daughter to the king for influence and then accuses her of killing her own baby. And look who the King has just met, a lovely common lady named Bess. Hello, next mistress! Or wife number three? And more importantly, hello boobies! Then again, as the Pope (Peter O'Toole, gumming the scenery) so astutely observes, however, sometimes celibacy is an immense relief.
It's 12:15 now...a little over three hours left in the flight. I still have plenty of battery left, thanks to the spare that I got last week. We're someplace over the vast American west (Montana? Dakotas?) and it's all white below. When I left Dulles, it was about twenty degrees outside and it looks like most of the country (excluding the southwest) is in a similar condition. Even though I appreciate the beauty of a snow-covered landscape, I prefer to do so at a distance these days. Thirty thousand feet away seems just about right.
Home now! It's 4:30, I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head and catch up on some newspapers. It's still 70 degrees outside and the sun is about an hour from setting. Perfect for a stroll down to Caffe del Doge, an espresso or macchiato, and to relax. Bye!
I lucked out twice in a row, scoring an Economy Plus seat (5 extra inches, woo-hoo!) with nobody sitting next to me on the trip out Monday and the trip back today. It makes flying about twice as good (or half as bad, I suppose). Thinking back I'm a little surprised to realize that I haven't flown since last August, which was also to Dulles Airport. In fact, last year I only flew 15K miles, which is not even enough to qualify for premier frequent flyer status -- the first year in, oh, the past five or so at least. I can't say I miss traveling so much, and I don't know that it will stay that way, but you never know with this sort of thing.
Choosing to read Mary Roach's book 'Stiff' on this flight may have been bad timing...even though I took my normal Bonine medication before takeoff, her vivid descriptions of dissection, vivisection and decomposition were starting to make me queasy so I had to set it aside. It's a great read, though, and I heartily recommend it -- along with "Bonk", her study of the science of sex research. But I don't think I'll pick it up again until this flight ends...
I'm on my way back home from Manassas, Virginia, about 30 minutes outside Washington DC. I've been there since Monday (it's Thursday) visiting with Lockheed Martin employees who used to be part of my company, on a project which I'm still involved in. I think it was a good visit, and it reminds me of some of the reasons I prefer the smaller company environment (that is, NOT Lockheed Martin!). Nothing major, of course, but in Santa Clara I never get lost inside a building trying to get from the lobby to a conference room!
I had considered sticking around the DC area until next week, to catch the inauguration, but that would be more hassle than it's worth unless I already had a ticket. As it is, wanting to be one of the estimated 2 million people in town when it's so cold (and Palo Alto is so warm, 78 degrees yesterday!) seems rather silly. So home I go.
I have been watching the second season of 'The Tudors', the Showtime series about Henry VIII and his wives. We are currently growing tired of wife #2, Ann Boleyn, who has lamentably only provided a female child so far. She's still smokin' hot (Natalie Dormer) but King Henry has gotten bored with her. I hope my battery lasts till the end of this episode; Ann just gave Henry his approval to sleep with one of her ladies in waiting (one less pretty than Ann, and one she can control). Could be fun to watch, but I'm always self-conscious about what's on my laptop screen when I'm flying. Much as I love the boobies I don't know if the people in the row behind me might approve.
Oh, snap! Queen Ann just got totally schooled by Mary, Henry's daughter by his first wife Katherine. Still, I know it won't turn out well for Mary, but I also know it's going to turn out even worse for Ann. But that is certain to be several episodes ahead, if not next season.
Last month I turned 50. Five decades, two score and ten, a half century. Got my AARP card in the mail (how the hell did the American Association of Retired Persons find me ?!?) So far I certainly don't feel very different; in fact, I don't really feel very different from when I was thirty...although some things are harder to see, and the guy in the mirror is looking older and older (maybe a blessing that the vision is going too?). But turning fifty gave me the opportunity to give myself a rare present -- a wonderful dinner party with my family (in part at least) and as many of my good friends as I could fit into a ballroom. In a way this was the wedding reception I would have had, if I'd ever married. It was an expensive party, and took a little time & effort to plan, but it turned out almost exactly as I had hoped. I sorely missed the friends and family who couldn't be there, and there were a few who I thought long and hard about inviting but didn't...properly so, I think. Even so I had about eighty five people for the whole evening, and another eight or ten who came by during the first hour and a half (never underestimate the drawing power of free liquor!). Even I was a little shocked to see how many people I could draw out on a cold December night, and most so nicely dressed to boot (photos of the evening here).
It was a wonderful night, and I'm very glad that I have it to remember.
Oh hey, King Henry is now sleeping with Madge, the queen's lady in waiting - with the queen's approval! No boobies on the screen, though. Rats. And here's Ann parading around with her big pregnant belly holding baby #2...oops, miscarriage. Guess that's the end of Henry & Madge. Boy, Ann's dad is a real prick. Whored his daughter to the king for influence and then accuses her of killing her own baby. And look who the King has just met, a lovely common lady named Bess. Hello, next mistress! Or wife number three? And more importantly, hello boobies! Then again, as the Pope (Peter O'Toole, gumming the scenery) so astutely observes, however, sometimes celibacy is an immense relief.
It's 12:15 now...a little over three hours left in the flight. I still have plenty of battery left, thanks to the spare that I got last week. We're someplace over the vast American west (Montana? Dakotas?) and it's all white below. When I left Dulles, it was about twenty degrees outside and it looks like most of the country (excluding the southwest) is in a similar condition. Even though I appreciate the beauty of a snow-covered landscape, I prefer to do so at a distance these days. Thirty thousand feet away seems just about right.
Home now! It's 4:30, I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head and catch up on some newspapers. It's still 70 degrees outside and the sun is about an hour from setting. Perfect for a stroll down to Caffe del Doge, an espresso or macchiato, and to relax. Bye!
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
The Book of Liz -- Vangie's play (Renegade Theatre Experiment)
My friend Vangie is smart, creative and talented. She's a founding member of a theater company (Renegade Theatre Experiment) in San Jose, and is appearing in "The Book of Liz", a very funny play written by David & Amy Sedaris. Her opening night performance was a tour de force; here she is (still in stage makeup) accepting accolades & bouquets from her adoring fans:
We were lucky that on the opening week of her play, Pat was in town to pack up & move the contents of his (and Dawn's) apartment, and was able to attend along with me, Sarah & Joe:
fun!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Gratitude
I am grateful to be alive. I am grateful for every day I spend swimming through this beautiful atmosphere, a shell-thin layer of breathable gas wrapped around our fragile little planet. I am grateful for the feeling I get when I come out of a tunnel on my motorcycle and the temperature drops ten degrees, like plunging into a cool pool of water. I am grateful for my health and my friends, my family and my career; all of which I take much too much for granted. I am grateful for love and for beauty, and for the ability to recognize them both.
I don't know who I am grateful to for these things, but gratitude is what I feel.
One day they will be gone but I will have had them and the memory will be almost as good; someday the the memory, too, will be gone; but then so will I. In the meantime I will try harder to remember this feeling.
I don't know who I am grateful to for these things, but gratitude is what I feel.
One day they will be gone but I will have had them and the memory will be almost as good; someday the the memory, too, will be gone; but then so will I. In the meantime I will try harder to remember this feeling.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
It's official, my car is totalled
My insurance company (AAA) is cutting me a check for blue book value on my car; they pressed the auto body shop to find used parts for repair but they couldn't bring the price down below total value even with that. Here's a closer look at the worst damage:
Neither AAA nor the Palo Alto police are interested in finding out anything about the white van with blacked-out windows that did this, at least not without a license plate. Can't really say I blame them too much. At least this is a non-fault payment, so my insurance rates won't go up (but I still lost $500 to the deductible, oh well).
For the past three years I've been meaning to get this bullet damage fixed:
...but now, of course, the wisdom of procrastination is made clear. And, given that the last time my car was shot before this was about twenty years ago, it looks like I have a good seventeen years before I get shot again. I'll be ready this time!
Neither AAA nor the Palo Alto police are interested in finding out anything about the white van with blacked-out windows that did this, at least not without a license plate. Can't really say I blame them too much. At least this is a non-fault payment, so my insurance rates won't go up (but I still lost $500 to the deductible, oh well).For the past three years I've been meaning to get this bullet damage fixed:
...but now, of course, the wisdom of procrastination is made clear. And, given that the last time my car was shot before this was about twenty years ago, it looks like I have a good seventeen years before I get shot again. I'll be ready this time!
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