The 2023 RANT

December 24, 2023

Another year winding down and it’s almost past time to have completed the rant… Who could have predicted it would be the week before Christmas and I would find myself sitting in a hotel in North Carolina struggling to condense a year’s worth of experiences into a few short pages? It’s rare I find myself ambivalent when it comes to rant material but, the whole SBux and Dunkin’ thing seems a bit tired – which doesn’t mean they aren’t true, cause let’s be honest those are universal and timeless and there’s been plenty of examples again this year… I fear it’s never going to change. I guess I should insert the normal disclaimer here too… every year the audience for this grows and there will be some “first timers” – don’t take yourself to seriously and if something here pricks your conscience or sensitivities well you might want to ask yourself why… understand though it’s probably you not me…

Last year we talked a bit about being vulnerable, opening up to the ones you love and doing this thing called life together… still good advice and this year has been a further exploration of that dynamic. Our family has another generation coming along and will be adding a fifth grandchild in February… boy do we seem a long way from those first rants! I think back on those early days, the struggles, leans times, figuring it out along the way while learning to raise young children – we were still so young ourselves. I sometimes wonder if my kids are having their own rant worthy experiences; part of me hopes so and then again I’ve worked hard to give them an easier path – maybe the measure is they don’t feel the need to write their own rants – they would probably just text it anyway!

I normally keep “work” out of these but, it’s worth mentioning that I went back to work a year ago and that shit continues with no real end in sight; hell, I am even traveling again if you can believe it. As usual I have met some really great folks, made some new friends, and as is always the case have run into some seriously toxic people – they are out there! Oh, if you are wondering which one you are… don’t wonder you know the truth… I’ll be magnanimous though – no names or details; I’ll just smile and raise my glass of wine toasting their inability to be a genuine human. Hurting feelings in the first page – it’s like the old days, how refreshing.

Enough of that though, should we do a rundown of family events or maybe some pontificating on current events – we do have an election coming up and the world is tragic lately; then again when hasn’t it been? Always a matter of perspective, a derivative of where you stand in the continuum of the human experience; does it really affect me or can I simply feign the appropriate emotions while plodding along in much the same way I always have? It’s the fundamental existential question: does it really matter anyway? I think it probably does, but you could forgive the apathy of those that just say “fuck it all anyway…” So, I vote we skip the political and world events section this year, and since my vote is the only one that matters… motion passed unanimously!

So, family updates it is – and we have a few noteworthy ones this year. First off the princess is pregnant with number two! Yes another granddaughter is on the way; and if you know Kiersta then you understand how much she hates being pregnant. Not being a mom, she is a great one, and not having another child just the physical manifestation of actually having a human inhabiting her body… oh boy does she not enjoy that part of it. Annie can’t wait for a little sister though and her excitement is pretty contagious; we are within weeks at this point! Our core four continue their adult journey – jobs, relationships, kids, businesses, new puppies, stolen trucks, chickens and now that I think about it plenty of rant worthy events! The four grands keep growing; gymnastics, horseback riding lessons, piano, dance, soccer, all the activities kids are supposed to do, making parents ask, “what the hell were we thinking!” In quiet moments of retrospection, I often ponder where the time has gone, cliché? Sure, it is, but it’s too easy to trudge through another day assuming they won’t ever end. Having grands as great as mine though is a bit of a cure for the pervading cynicism of growing old. If I was a touch more sarcastic I would be sending out a yearly syrupy letter extolling their exploits… way to ironic even for me.

Couple of experiences really brought this getting old thing home for me this year; my daughter “gifted” me this online “story” activity – you write a weekly chapter recounting experiences from your life and this company compiles it all into a book for you; well not really for you but for those who remain after you sign off – beautiful hardcover with color pics. Two things on this – asking a writer to write a book about his memories is a perilous ask – no seriously. I reluctantly completed it though – all eighty plus chapters and now I am hoping there is a Volume Two somewhere down the road ‘cause geez do they know something I don’t? I am also anticipating at least one “WTF dad…” out of this… and in a few generations… “great, great grandpa was pretty crazy wasn’t he mom?” “That’s what they say honey…” Should be fun!

A few weeks ago, we lost a friend unexpectedly; “Cinnamon” was only about a year older than I am, went in for some routine outpatient surgery… never came home. The details aren’t important, but she left too early – I joined the family at the hospital for an “Honor Walk” – a ritual where the staff line the halls as they wheel the body to the OR for organ harvesting. There is no delicate way to describe this process and although I am glad I did it – I would be happy never doing it again. It was an unexpected and stark reminder of the impermanence of this thing we call life – organ donorship aside… her journey here is over. Apologize if that seems harsh, I am not blind to the huge gift someone will receive and how their life will continue forward and the joy their loved ones will experience… however, the scales are balanced by the magnitude of loss on this side.

I’m sure you’re asking by now… umm we going to RANT anytime soon? Listen both my knees hurt all the time, one of my shoulders only half works, I’m tired, old, and a bit grumpy so how about you calm the fuck down… I’m getting to it!

Here we go – broke down and took a flight this summer for the first time in almost four years; turns out the shit you see on the news is 100% true – people have lost their minds. I am old enough to remember when we knew how to act on an airplane and we didn’t wear our pajamas either. This wasn’t a little trip either – Tampa to Seattle so a solid six hours in the air each way; and unbeknownst to me this was apparently a CDC charter flight to test whether Covid is still transmissible – it is and yes I got it. I am pretty sure it was the woman sitting behind me on the trip home since she coughed literally the entire time; maskless of course and didn’t bother covering her mouth. I’ve got a great pic of her spewing spike proteins directly on me… Tammy swears you can’t contract it that quickly, but I’m pretty sure I was part of a horrible and involuntary science experiment. I’m not in a hurry to interact with the traveling public again anytime soon and even more reticent to get on a plane again – if you’re traveling; try acting like a normal, responsible and respectful human… it’s not that hard.

This air travel experience informed my decision to drive to my client in North Carolina recently… not interested in revisiting Covid again; having said that I can confirm stupid is not confined to those flying, but alive and well on our interstates. Now I’m not a drive 10 miles under the limit in the left lane guy, but I’m also not a ride your ass at 90MPH in the rain idiot, but those guys are out there and there seems to be an inordinate number of them in the Carolinas… just saying. And by the way, who doesn’t understand the universal merge rules? We take turns one from each side – it’s a system that actually works if you aren’t say a cantankerous entitled old guy in Jacksonville – he was ridiculous, but not quite brave enough to put his Mercedes at risk – I was willing to sacrifice the Kia though! I did feel bad for the young couple from Wisconsin that was completely traumatized by the Florida interstate scene; the man was nearly in tears trying to merge that U-Haul he was driving – he made the mistake of trying to be polite in a state that has never embraced that concept – they are going to love it here!

Maybe I’m just out of practice, it’s true I haven’t really traveled since early 2020, but I just don’t remember it being as insane as it is. Seems to me we have suffered a degree of systemic trauma – a loss of grace and collective patience – did all that social isolation leave a permanent stain on us? The pandemic has been declared over for now, assuming you believed in it to start with; but many folks never returned to an office, to the socialization of spending time face to face, working shoulder to shoulder (literally) and it shows. This is not a new theme for me and a bit of self-introspection is probably in order; is this my new reality or has it always been this way, but I am now just noticing? Did I change, get older, develop a greater sensitivity to these abrasions or has something really changed – my guess is probably a little of both.

For myself I am working hard to develop a greater self-awareness in these situations, making more of an effort to foster positive personal interactions, reduce the tendency to have an immediate negative reaction to these triggers. If you find yourself in similar circumstances rise above, stay the course, and remember time is moving quick enough as it is… no need to waste any energy on this type of nonsense – we all have better things to do with the time allotted to us. Unless you are in my drive thru being entitled and taking up way more of my time than is reasonable… which means order off the damn menu or go inside – just can’t fix stupid!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays my friends none of us know the length of our journey… but is definitely worth the trip, so stay in the light…

Joe

Two Cases of Jam

October 25, 2018

A somewhat true story lightly based on actual events…

The whole thing was fucked up Ashleigh thought to herself, the sulphurous breeze rushing through the Ford’s windows whipped her long brown hair haphazardly across her bronze shoulders, she ignored it lost in the hum of the tires and the static of an AM country station out of Jessup. It had been almost two weeks since she had been headed to the Lil Cricket for a pack of Marlboros – she had gotten sick – twice – in the stained bowl tucked in the back of the store between the stacks of Styrofoam cups and cases of Mountain Dew – a pink plus sign later she had run not knowing where she was headed or even why. Now two hours from the Florida border with less than twelve dollars in her pocket she still wasn’t ready to accept that all of this was real, but home was still home.

They say fate will find you where you are, and you can’t hide from your destiny; but she would be damned if she wasn’t going to try. She hadn’t wanted any of this, hell you couldn’t be more careful than she had been. Two more positives in a CVS bathroom had confirmed that God must have some kinda fucked up sense of humor – it had only been one time and not much at that she thought with a sad smile, hell they weren’t even really together. Should have learned my lesson with the last asshole, she thinks to herself picking up 17 South and heading toward the Georgia border. She didn’t have a destination, but she couldn’t face any of them and the only thing she loved in Florida, her dog Charlie, had died in an accident so she sure as hell wasn’t going home. It just wasn’t fair she had dreams, plans, places she wanted to see this wasn’t supposed to happen, not now… not ever she cries as the hot breeze sweeping off the Carolina low country dries her tears and the miles sweep by.

The roadside sign promised home-made baked goods, local vegetables, and boiled peanuts; it wasn’t much more than a lean-to-shack a few feet off the road – grass growing through the gravel pull off betrayed the lack of traffic. She can hear the tick and ping of the engine cooling as she heads inside in search of something cold to drink. Eyes adjusting to the dim light she can barely make out the ancient black woman in the corner, “Come in child all is well…” She doesn’t say anything else and Ashleigh isn’t sure if she had even heard her right, and she was pretty damn sure all wasn’t well and wasn’t going to be anytime soon. Forty minutes later and a few miles down the road with two bottles of water and three jars of homemade elderberry jam she still wasn’t sure it had been real but the gentle clink of the jars in the seat next to her were reassuring in a strange way.

She ate shrimp in a parking lot in Statesboro wishing the a/c worked her feet folded under her a sweet tea sweating in the cup holder. Taylor county had peach trees ripening in the afternoon sun as far as she could see – pulled off on the shoulder she wandered down the rows picking a few of the low hanging fruit listening to the silence around her. A couple miles further on at the farm stand she added two jars of fresh peach jam to her collection. A day later she had hiked up the base of the Toccoa falls listening to the roar of water drowning out the noise in her head, standing in the mist the drops of water shining like diamonds in her hair as the sun set behind her she had cried again. On her way back to the car she had wandered through the college – a life she had thought about before life had happened.

She spent two days in Helen, a Bavarian style little town nestled in the North Georgia mountains, eating brats and pretzels – dancing with the old men in their lederhosen she was almost able to forget, but she had finally headed West with three jars of apple butter added to her growing collection. She spent a night camped out at one of the big lakes along the North Carolina border listening to the night birds and an orchestra of frogs singing her to sleep, Waffle House for breakfast and she had headed Southwest towards Alabama stopping in Rome debating whether to continue further West. As it happened she had accumulated another two jars each of strawberry and cherry jelly along the way – she was up to eleven jars now.

It was in a small diner outside Bowden Corners when she started to question herself, it had been nine days since she had left and although she hadn’t reconciled this whole having a kid thing yet, she also knew this odyssey wasn’t going to last forever. Climbing behind the wheel she heads East her jars clinking in floorboard next to her, she had moved them into a box two days earlier. The pecan orchards flash by, the long rows of tall stately trees quiet sentinels to her inner struggle. The orchards give way to the open fields of the few remaining cotton fields sprinkled throughout the red dirt, the puffy boles ripening in the late summer sun a testament to simpler yet harsher times. She can smell the lowlands and the paper mills as she approaches the coast and the way home.

She carries life with her and with a wan smile she realizes her life is on a different trajectory, one she couldn’t have imagined and had never wished for but that had found her nonetheless. There were conversations to be had, plans to be made, and a life to figure out. The road stretches out before her leading her home, forward, and into a future unplanned but still hers to define… and she has jelly lots and lots of jelly.

’73 Pickup

July 25, 2017

…I had no idea what I was getting into I think as I wipe a gritty arm across my brow and adjust the hard hat; the sun continues its slow climb in the cloudless sky. The shovel is heavy in my hands long since calloused and toughened by the monotony that is squaring up footers in the red clay of the Carolinas. The dust slowly eddies and whirls in the shadeless expanse with only the temptation of a breeze. In the distance the universal signal for break is given, God how long had it taken to figure that one out. I no longer bother trying to shake the dust off my jeans as I slide into my ’73 pickup with a quick prayer that the linkage holds I bounce out of the lot. Read more ›