Sometimes
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Sometimes I wonder about things which are important only to me.
Sometimes I wonder about things which should be important to all.
Sometimes I wonder about things future and in past.
But, always I wonder.
Sometimes I look at the night sky filled with stars.
Sometimes I look at the think of all the worlds there must be out there.
Sometimes I look at the tiny ants toiling while building their own little worlds.
And, always I wonder.
Sometimes I look at the strife in the world around me with all its mysteries.
Sometimes I lie back and dream of a way it could be with just a little effort.
Sometimes I don't care, sometimes I do care, always I'm entranced.
And find new ways to wonder.
Sometimes I lie, alone, in bed dreaming of things possible and those not.
Sometimes I see the evils in our world and the good inherent in man.
Sometimes I see the questions which have no answers and answers to questions unasked.
And, again I wonder.
Sometimes I see such simple questions unanswered.
Sometimes I see pure hypocrisy paraded as virtues.
Sometimes I see minds ruled by hatred and lies.
And I no longer wonder.
For I have looked high to the heavens for truth.
And all the while it is beneath my feet.
Trite, trash, unworthy of a thinking, feeling creature.
Then, I wonder even more.
Frank VanHoose
November 2019
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Parent's Pride vs Parent's Living Vicariously
My elder sent me some photos of her elder and did not mention what the photos were from. It was he, him and Dad with a bouquet of roses. And, I sent her a reply about any special moment with one's kids is like nothing else. And it is.
But, as usual, it set me to thinking a lot about a parent's pride in a child's accomplishments versus a parent living their own dreams viciously via their children. Far too much of that going on. Why do we have parent's showing their ass at a kids little league game? Whose game is it anyway? Parents who subject their children to this sort of thing need to be taken for a long walk on a short pier. Seriously.
We had our childhood. If it did now work out the way we would have liked...Shit happens. Most of us were not the kids who hit the grand slam in the bottom of the last inning or hit the winning shot with zero on the clock. Deal with it. Our children's dreams are just that, THEIR dreams. Our job as parent's is to help them on the path to achieving THEIR dreams not reliving our own. Our time came. Our time passed. Now is Their time not ours.
Makes me realize it does not matter what his achievement was. That belongs to him. Just that his parents were there to share the moment in support of him, joyous for him, not for themselves. Well, yes, for themselves too. But not for whatever dream he achieved but because they had been there supporting him in pursuing his own dream, his own way and being honestly joyous for him without needing to interject their own dreams over his.
I think (hope) I have always taught my kids they should not allow the praise or criticism of others to deter them from following their own paths to their own goals and I'd support the for whatever that goal was and I believe they are teaching their children the same thing and following up on it by celebrating their children's successes without trying to push them into paths where they, themselves, have failed. They are allowing their children to be who they are and one success means as much as any other. It is, after all, our children's dreams not our own.
See, I realize now those are my successes. It does not matter what my job title was, how much money I made, how big my house was, what car I drove, etc. It matters only that I love my kids and they know that. It matters that I pushed my kids to follow their own dreams and by doing that they will allow my grand kids to pursue their own way in this world and be happy for them. And, that will follow down through succeeding generations.
Something to think about when the volunteer umpire calls strike three on an obvious ball four or any other setback or even achievement your child has. Celebrate THEIR victories. Commiserate with them on THEIR defeats. Those are theirs not yours. It does not matter if they with a game or lose it, just love them, support them, give them a hug... and keep your damn ego out of their life. You had your own childhood, let them have theirs.
But, as usual, it set me to thinking a lot about a parent's pride in a child's accomplishments versus a parent living their own dreams viciously via their children. Far too much of that going on. Why do we have parent's showing their ass at a kids little league game? Whose game is it anyway? Parents who subject their children to this sort of thing need to be taken for a long walk on a short pier. Seriously.
We had our childhood. If it did now work out the way we would have liked...Shit happens. Most of us were not the kids who hit the grand slam in the bottom of the last inning or hit the winning shot with zero on the clock. Deal with it. Our children's dreams are just that, THEIR dreams. Our job as parent's is to help them on the path to achieving THEIR dreams not reliving our own. Our time came. Our time passed. Now is Their time not ours.
Makes me realize it does not matter what his achievement was. That belongs to him. Just that his parents were there to share the moment in support of him, joyous for him, not for themselves. Well, yes, for themselves too. But not for whatever dream he achieved but because they had been there supporting him in pursuing his own dream, his own way and being honestly joyous for him without needing to interject their own dreams over his.
I think (hope) I have always taught my kids they should not allow the praise or criticism of others to deter them from following their own paths to their own goals and I'd support the for whatever that goal was and I believe they are teaching their children the same thing and following up on it by celebrating their children's successes without trying to push them into paths where they, themselves, have failed. They are allowing their children to be who they are and one success means as much as any other. It is, after all, our children's dreams not our own.
See, I realize now those are my successes. It does not matter what my job title was, how much money I made, how big my house was, what car I drove, etc. It matters only that I love my kids and they know that. It matters that I pushed my kids to follow their own dreams and by doing that they will allow my grand kids to pursue their own way in this world and be happy for them. And, that will follow down through succeeding generations.
Something to think about when the volunteer umpire calls strike three on an obvious ball four or any other setback or even achievement your child has. Celebrate THEIR victories. Commiserate with them on THEIR defeats. Those are theirs not yours. It does not matter if they with a game or lose it, just love them, support them, give them a hug... and keep your damn ego out of their life. You had your own childhood, let them have theirs.
Friday, August 23, 2019
Its a Stormy Night in South Carolina
I suppose it has been a while since I've written here. Its been an eventful time in my life. Some good, mostly bad.
My brother died. My hero for all my life. My best friend. Much more of a dad to me than my father ever was. My younger nephew was killed by a car and it was probably his fault. The woman who meant the world to me died and I had know warning. I found out I have stage 3 Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis with projected life expectancy of 2 - 5 years. I found out my low blood pressure has lead to Mini-Strokes for years and different parts of my brain are deteriorating (thank goodness for spell check or you'd see just how far down I've gone). Despite all this, the state of South Carolina (In its infinite knowledge of the condition and concern) has determined I'm still able to work. Whoopee.
But that is just a general background and nothing really specific to this post.
Here in Lexington, SC today and tonight have been stormy. Sitting here now at my computer with all the other lights off so I can see through the wide open patio blinds to the growing darkness outside. Darkness enhanced by a heavy fog or very low lying clods which limits vision to around fifty feet.
Its nostalgic, its a reminder of all the good things and also all the bad things. Fortunately mostly the good.
Back between summer of 1956 and summer of 1961 we lived in an old log cabin at a forestry tower in rural, south eastern, KY. Place called Spring Knob. Lots of stories about that place but those have been explored earlier or not. But none of them have any place in this narrative. This is about my love of storms.
That cabin was on top of one of the highest hills around. And when we had storms we had some humdingers. The bottom of the clouds were often down the hill from us so we were surrounded by that cottony whiteness, interspersed with vivid flashes of lightening and deafening thunder.
As a small child they scared hell out of me. Somehow, at the same time, I loved them. So exelerating and exciting. Kind of like the attraction of a new roller coaster.
I guess I never really thought about it that much but over the course of my life I find more and more of my memories centering around storms.
In my teens when we'd have a big rain I could move my bed next to the window where I could watch the creek rise up over our foot bridge, up our drive and several feet into the old barn.
In some of those same years I'd go hunting and when a storm rolled in I'd find a convenient rock cliff, start a fire, place my shotgun well away from me, start a fire and sit back and enjoy the wind and rain.
When I bought my house back in '98 it was surrounded by trees. When a storm would come along I'd go to my porch and sit and enjoy the smell of the air, the way the wind whipped the branches of my trees around, have a Bud and a Smoke and just enjoy.
Been a good many years since I smoked or drank Bud but I still love my storms. Not sure what it is but the storms just call to me and the more violent the better.
I've been through more than one hurricane. First was David in Florida 1978 or 1979. '79 I guess. I recall sitting at the kitchen window thinking, "So this is a hurricane? I've seen a hundred worse thunder storms in the Kentucky hills".
I guess the worst was Hugo while I was in the Army at Ft. Jackson in Columbia, SC back in the late 80s. Rode that one out in a moblie home.
Nothing at all so severe since but even the mild storms comfort me. I truly do feel sorry for the victims of storms but, even with that, I do feel a surge of excitement whenever I hear about the possibility of local, severe weather.
There is no debate as to my sanity. I'm batshit crazy as most anyone who knows me can attest. So, I'm sitting here tonight looking out my patio door(window) wishing I was able to just head out into the night and not care where the morning sun finds me.
My brother died. My hero for all my life. My best friend. Much more of a dad to me than my father ever was. My younger nephew was killed by a car and it was probably his fault. The woman who meant the world to me died and I had know warning. I found out I have stage 3 Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis with projected life expectancy of 2 - 5 years. I found out my low blood pressure has lead to Mini-Strokes for years and different parts of my brain are deteriorating (thank goodness for spell check or you'd see just how far down I've gone). Despite all this, the state of South Carolina (In its infinite knowledge of the condition and concern) has determined I'm still able to work. Whoopee.
But that is just a general background and nothing really specific to this post.
Here in Lexington, SC today and tonight have been stormy. Sitting here now at my computer with all the other lights off so I can see through the wide open patio blinds to the growing darkness outside. Darkness enhanced by a heavy fog or very low lying clods which limits vision to around fifty feet.
Its nostalgic, its a reminder of all the good things and also all the bad things. Fortunately mostly the good.
Back between summer of 1956 and summer of 1961 we lived in an old log cabin at a forestry tower in rural, south eastern, KY. Place called Spring Knob. Lots of stories about that place but those have been explored earlier or not. But none of them have any place in this narrative. This is about my love of storms.
That cabin was on top of one of the highest hills around. And when we had storms we had some humdingers. The bottom of the clouds were often down the hill from us so we were surrounded by that cottony whiteness, interspersed with vivid flashes of lightening and deafening thunder.
As a small child they scared hell out of me. Somehow, at the same time, I loved them. So exelerating and exciting. Kind of like the attraction of a new roller coaster.
I guess I never really thought about it that much but over the course of my life I find more and more of my memories centering around storms.
In my teens when we'd have a big rain I could move my bed next to the window where I could watch the creek rise up over our foot bridge, up our drive and several feet into the old barn.
In some of those same years I'd go hunting and when a storm rolled in I'd find a convenient rock cliff, start a fire, place my shotgun well away from me, start a fire and sit back and enjoy the wind and rain.
When I bought my house back in '98 it was surrounded by trees. When a storm would come along I'd go to my porch and sit and enjoy the smell of the air, the way the wind whipped the branches of my trees around, have a Bud and a Smoke and just enjoy.
Been a good many years since I smoked or drank Bud but I still love my storms. Not sure what it is but the storms just call to me and the more violent the better.
I've been through more than one hurricane. First was David in Florida 1978 or 1979. '79 I guess. I recall sitting at the kitchen window thinking, "So this is a hurricane? I've seen a hundred worse thunder storms in the Kentucky hills".
I guess the worst was Hugo while I was in the Army at Ft. Jackson in Columbia, SC back in the late 80s. Rode that one out in a moblie home.
Nothing at all so severe since but even the mild storms comfort me. I truly do feel sorry for the victims of storms but, even with that, I do feel a surge of excitement whenever I hear about the possibility of local, severe weather.
There is no debate as to my sanity. I'm batshit crazy as most anyone who knows me can attest. So, I'm sitting here tonight looking out my patio door(window) wishing I was able to just head out into the night and not care where the morning sun finds me.
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