I always find perspective in random places in my life. It’s these arbitrary moments that something seems to permeate into my brain and push me into some sort of deep thought process.
I always find perspective in random places in my life. It’s these arbitrary moments that something seems to permeate into my brain and push me into some sort of deep thought process.
As we headed up the mountain on the lift, I fixated on how I would get off that thing. As we climbed skyward I was terrified, not of skiing down this mountain, but of the small little slope of snow that awaited me at the end of that ride. With all that, the small voice in my head just kept repeating, “don’t fall off the chair — don’t fall off the chair.”
It was a long way down from the top of that hill and you had to navigate through an army of spruce trees that tried their best to keep you from completing your run. I had seen many friends fly face first into the open arms of a waiting spruce only to appear on the other side with exposed skin scrapped raw and smelling like Christmas.
Maybe I’ve become a little more emotional over the years because of certain things I’ve been through, and that emotion sparks these random family thoughts, but regardless, here we are.
When I tell people that my wedding song was U2’s“Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” I wait to see how long it takes them to realize I am joking. In hindsight, maybe it should have been.
I’m a contractor, the most I write on a weekly basis is my material list for the job on a random scrap of lumber or drywall. Do I go with sports? Not everyone likes sports. Do I go with family? Not everyone will understand the dynamic. Do I go with politics? Nope. Angry, happy, sad, sappy, inspirational. The possibilities are endless for the guy who only writes on trash all week…
The cashier, a girl probably in high school, but not much older, says hello to me. As I take the last item out of my cart, I say good afternoon. When I move up even with her, she holds two twenties in her hand. I assume its the last man’s payment.
I was wrong…
On Amazon, Kindle book by Dan DeLuise
My apologies to any bagpipe players out there, but it all ends up good in the end…
It rained my first day – not just rain, but a deluge and, because I was young an ill prepared, walked through the aisles, silently introducing myself, soaked to the skin. Not exactly an auspicious beginning to a thirty-five-year career; a career that ends today.
For two days, in the blistering heat, the driveway and yard were covered with tables and blankets that housed mostly junk that people donated because they didn’t want to throw them away.
During one of our heat waves, Arlene phoned and asked if I'd water her flowers and look in on Tucker (her cat). I said I would. It was a lockdown, any reason to leave the house was welcome.
So, there I was, living in New York City, working in the financial district, having gotten a trainee position at an international insurance company and thinking “Wow, kid, you done good”.
Normally, my stories about family vacations down in Belmar, New Jersey are lighthearted and usually involve a lot of drinking stories (on my part) or reliving memories.
This isn’t one of those stories.
As we ate our meal, Arlene talked, not really paying attention, I felt a now familiar shock. My food was stuck in my throat.