The site is coming together quite nicely, thanks to my trusty web developer daughter. Finally, I write in a place I can call my own. I used to imagine myself a writer as an adolescent, daydreaming about the satisfaction of moving people with my own words. It was never about fame or fortune, but more about the expression of the things I couldn't contain within me. We all wonder whether our thoughts and emotions are shared among others around us, whether our deepest hopes and dreams link to those people we admire. Never really enjoying the labor of reading, I had little reference for what or how to express all of this in the form of creative writing. As a matter of fact, I've only read a handful of books from cover to cover. The physical process of scanning the words, line after line for hundreds of pages put me to sleep. Still to this day, I can only manage to read through articles, essays, and reports. Yet, here I am attempting to create enough words strung together, in hopes of sharing what swirls within my consciousness. 

I am so blessed by the support and caring presence of so many wonderful people in my life. My grandparents were such an influence on all the time they were present in my life. All four lived well into my adult life, and into my children's late teenage years. 85, 89, 94, and 101 years of experience and subtle wisdom they brought to my world. All members of the "Greatest Generation" and as humble about their sacrifices and struggles they experienced during the Great Depression and the wartime. A stark contrast to all the following generations I've encountered. That foundation set the tone for how I see and experience the world around me. Each one bringing a distinct quality to help mold my perception and awareness of the childhood I lived. My dad's parents were educator's, so they had every summer away from work, and my mom's parents were retired Navy and homemaker, thus no jobs to tend to. Being the first grandchild to all these people, I was a "Golden Child" in their eyes. Imagine the attention that garnered the first two years of my infant life, before my sister was born. My mom had four siblings, three still living at home on the farm, and my dad had two younger sisters, with one living at home as well. That was eight additional people to mold, shape, and influence my early childhood development. 

The children of the "Greatest Generation" weren't as fortunate as myself. My parents exemplified the difference between their generation and their parents. Imagine growing up post World War II with the attitude and understanding your parents endured the calamity of the "Great Depression" and saved the world from tyranny before you were born. This not only left a chip on their shoulder, but also created an authoritarian parenting paradigm for their upbringing. Today, research tells us this parenting style leaves lasting negative effects on the children subjected to its absolutes and brutality. My parents weren't bad parents, just emotional wrecks within their individual struggles to reconcile their own childhoods. My dad didn't have what I consider a functional relationship with his dad until only a few years before my dad's death at fifty-two years old. My mom to this day still struggles reconciling the disciplinary upbringing her retired Navy Chief Warrant Officer father put her through. As unfortunate as these uncontrollable circumstances were for my parents, they compelled my grandparents to sort of redeem themselves as parents through their grandchildren. I had absolutely nothing to do with all of this coming together in such a way, or being born at a time where I would be touched by all these advantages, so for me it truly is a blessing. 

Anchored by this incredible foundation, I've developed my perspective of the world around me. That awareness is broad and far reaching to things of the present understanding of our existence, and the understanding of our species. Our behavior fascinates me to the extent of how people navigate the hypercomplex social structures we know today. The human emotional complex captures the attention of the vast majority of our species, and touching that vein to positively influence others is the mission of so much of what swirls around in my head. It appears to me, that if I can derive a beneficial approach to my life, and the lives of others, anyone can assimilate to an uplifting attitude towards our existence. I don't see myself as special to any extent, but simply able to find inspiration in others, and hopeful of sharing some bit of inspirational evidence to whoever I can encounter. Possibly, you might be struck by that as you visit my explanation for whatever strikes me as worthy of sharing...


"Holiday fudge..."


Out of any ordinary circumstance arises this whimsical extravaganza of the imagination we identify as fantasy. Close enough to reality to maintain our attention, yet far enough removed to feel like a safe alternative. Is this how we reconcile the hopes we fail to achieve, or how we pacify the failures we can't accept. The truth gets tossed around so much, we can hardly recognize its purpose some days. Homo Sapiens are the creators of the lie. There's never been a single member of our species that hasn't perpetrated this human born concept. The concept of fantasy is simply our way of justifying that lie to ourselves. Purity is a myth born in shame for fear we can't measure up to an ideal so much bigger than the loneliness of being a single solitary entity.


"Misery deserves company..."

Relief from the mundane ordinary of everyday life gives the emotional slavery a sense of freedom. Contemplating growth and development scares the fuck out of most of us. We much prefer excessive rationalization, where accepting our shortcomings is so much easier than overcoming them. The anxiety of being alive can overwhelm the absolute best of intentions. Figuring out why we are even here, and what we're supposed to do with the limited time that represents is the human condition. Finding peace between the realization you are someone and the finality of that creates this overwhelming desire to understand. Alignment of all those moments in between to some sense of purpose carves away at the struggle of our why. Words are the tools we have crafted to soothe this paradox of why. Through these symbols of our purpose, we share ourselves to the rest of humanity hoping we are not alone.


"Revered for their symbolism...British families once rented pineapples to express status."

Imagining ourselves outside of what we are surrounded by must give us something for our efforts. Fantasy transcends status in a way few other outlets offer. Even the noblest of hierarchy pursue their imaginations. As a younger man, I used to imagine myself as a famous athlete. It thrilled me to fantasize about being the best player on my favorite team. It wasn't about praise from others, but more about a result from putting forth my best efforts. Being a winner.