Thoughts of a Common Man

This past week one of my children expressed frustration about life in general. He was sort of up against it and his expectations didn't meet his reality when it came to a social function at school. Just one of those things. And it frustrated him. As a parent it's awful difficult to watch your child be upset about anything. We spend a lot of time shielding them and I know that my beautiful wife and I want nothing but smooth sailing for them through the years. Yet it won't happen. Around that same time Kathy and I settled in for an episode of Breaking Bad from season 3 (we're making good time) and the episode, at first glance, seemed to be a throw away type of show about the two main characters chasing a fly around their lab. (I won't spoil anything if you're just getting started, Kim). Every single sentence brought me closer to the feeling that it not only wasn't a throw away episode, but that it was so profound. Walter expresses discomfort in t...

Then she sneezed again. My companion. Then the dog cried. Then she blew her nose. Sneeze. Blow the nose. Sneeze. Blow the freaking nose! "So where you from?" she asked. Her diseased face just inches from mine. I crumpled into a ball beside her and turn my head to the window. "Buffalo," I muttered. I held my book up to cover my face. I thought about making a mask out of the freaking (not the real word) puke bag. "Do you like to travel?" she asked. She sneezed. Coughed. And might've farted. All I could think was that I needed to crack a window. Not a bright idea at 35,000 feet but it was tempting. "I hate traveling," I said. I almost added "NOW!" and "BECAUSE OF YOU." I really wanted to tell her that I hated her and that I knew why her dog was crying. He wanted out! He wanted to get away from her. Sneeze, cough, sneeze. The tissue she was using was just a tiny piece of paper....

Did you know that Kansas City is about three miles from Kansas? Or about ten miles from Iowa? Or about twenty miles from Nebraska? The mile markers might not be right, but I was in all of those states in a real short time. When I saw the sign that said "WELCOME TO IOWA" I about pissed myself. "IOWA?" I yelled to the car. Then when I was just East of Omaha Bob Seger's Turn the Page came on. On a long and lonesome highway East of Omaha "I'm on that highway!" I screamed. And let me tell you...it's long and lonesome. Old Bob wasn't lying. Mile after mile passed. I was begging to see a freaking (word substitution) cow somewhere along the way. I tried calling home. Sam was a wise ass. Glad I'm missed. And I drove on. Mile after mile. I arrived in Omaha, visited a site, and then due to the worst planning in the history of the world, drove back to Kansas City. Mile after mile. "Just give me a freaking (see ...

The cool part about visiting a new city is that everything is unfamiliar. It's also the aggravating part. I used the GPS to highlight the route to the job and immediately got lost. I called the contact and he gave me directions as if I had lived there all my life. "You know where the little blue highway starts?" "Are you freaking kidding me? The little blue highway?" "Where are you now?" he asked. "I have no freaking idea (freaking subbing for another word)." Let me tell you, the heartland is mostly field. And strip mall. And field. And convenient store. And field. "I'm by a field." "And a McDonalds." Thankfully he knew the place. I visited the site and got back into the car hours later. I had no plan other than steak. (Pops had planted the seed with a text earlier in the day). And I drove aimlessly. I saw George Brett way. He's my favorite non-Yankee player ever. I drove by and parke...

Some people think it's cute to travel. While I enjoyed Kansas City there were certainly some issues in getting there and doing the job. On Sunday I boarded the plane in Baltimore (after a short layover) and due to the fact that I was in the C group, I was not really blessed with the prime choice of seats. I headed for the back row. (Perhaps no one would join me). But noooooooo...... A reasonably attractive female sat next to me. There were three seats. She didn't choose the one on the end and leave the middle one empty. She sat right next to me. A bit odd despite the fact that I'm a wildly attractive man. A moment later a man approached. "Is this seat taken?" He asked the woman. "No, please," she said. The guy sat down and immediately the two of them began making small talk. Flirting, actually. It was a wee bit uncomfortable. The guy then took out a deck of cards. "Do you play gin rummy?" he asked his new friend. ...

There were three siblings there. Mom was in the center. One nephew and a newcomer were listening to the stories...and shaking their heads, laughing. "I really could tell Dad stories for a long time," I said. We were working in San Francisco. Dad had gone out of his way to help a young, overweight girl who worked in the office. The girl was always bitter, forever doubtful of her own abilities, and was a considerable mess. She'd miss work. She'd eat way too much at lunch, and she was forever complaining, but Dad wanted to help her gain some confidence. So we'd pick her up each day and drive her into work. I remember whining to Dad about it. "Why can't she find her own way to work?" "Why does she do nothing but complain?" But Dad was steady. She was a young kid. "She needs a break in life," he said. One morning we got to the spot in front of her own beat up apartment where we'd pick her up. She wasn't there....

A shot of Hitler as a baby. They say that a photo is worth a thousand words and I sort of stopped dead in my tracks looking at this one. He looks like a regular baby, right? Knowing what we knew as his life played out, it makes you wonder about who snapped the shot and then completely blew the parenting. A Mom and her child after the bombs in Japan. This shot was supposedly taken 4 days later. When I looked at it, I wondered about the destruction. I recalled being in history class as a kid and being so proud of the fact that no one messes with the United States. We forget about the absolute destruction and that real people are over there, right? And real people over here as well. Having lived through September 11, I know the pain in the hearts of citizens not even directly involved in the scene. Yet we were all directly involved in this. It's funny, but I can't watch the movies made, or the photos taken in real time. My heart and mind don't allow it. Every single ph...