My goal of posting every Sunday I'm only three days late.
I've had a lot of thoughts in that time and I'm not sure if I remember all of them.
Writing this letters, it's always hard to find the balance between living my life and reflecting on it.
I woke up Christmas Eve morning in the room I grew up waking up in Wauseon. My parents asked me to go through my stuff in the basement and decide what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to throw away. I walked down in to the basement and the area I had created and made my own space since Christmas of 2004 was completely taken over by Carter Lumber stuff. My dad had moved his office from the store to the basement.
I sorted through my stuff throwing away 99% of it keeping all my high school memories, ninja turtle toys, and old video game stuff. The perfect mix of nostalgia and hopeful memorabilia. At first I was kinda sad my dad had destroyed my fortress of solitude. I had taken a place in the house no one wanted and I made it my favorite. But now it was all gone.
But I had never seen my dad like this before. My memories of my dad growing up consisted of him waking up and leaving for work at an hour I didn't know existed in the morning, getting home around 6:15 for dinner then settling in to his couch for the evening to either watch whatever sporting event was on or some network sitcom. My dad rarely went on family vacations and his hobbies, from my perspective, were mowing the lawn and drinking at the V.F.W. once a week.
But this was a different man. He not only spent Christmas eve in that basement but he spent the entire time I was home down there. Organizing, setting up, remembering. It was actually really great to see. It was passion in my dad. I saw interest. He never cared what style of couch he sat on, nor the size of the TV he looked at. But this was different. My mom bought him a scrap book for Christmas, it's what he asked for...
...what he asked for?
My dad NEVER asked for anything for Christmas, never asked for anything ever... out of the 28 years I've been alive and the 26 Christmases I've spent watching my dad open presents in the morning I've only ever seen socks, sweat shirts, underwear, and pajama pants now he's excited to go through all his photos and put them in a scrap book? Who is this man?
I loved it. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. My dad's identity since he was a teenager was working at that lumber yard. It's who he was. Now it was taken from him. I wonder what that felt like? I wonder what he thought...
I wanted to sit down there and watch the man go through all of his memories. I wanted to watch his face as he finally reached the end of his career. That's my dad. The man who's blood runs in my veins, I lived with the man, I worked with him, and yet it's like he has this whole life I never knew about. Honestly I'm afraid to ask about. My family has such a surface depth to it. What would happen if I attempted to break the ice and dive deeper?
For instance the day after Christmas my mom made me drive to Toledo to fix the airbag in my car because of a recall. Of course my dad wanted to stay home so it was my mother, my brother and me driving around Toledo while we waited for my car to be fixed. My mom rode with me to drop off the car while my brother followed to drive us around while we waited. My mom asked a bit about school, she asked about me being single, she told me she ran into Whitney's mom somewhere and they talked about how her whole marriage went down. I told my mom that's one of the reasons why I may not get married.
Later Tyler joins us in the car and conversation. He starts talking like marriage is very simple, very easy, you just have to pick the right person...I almost bit my tongue off as I struggled not to break the ice of our surface family. What if I said something like I wouldn't want a marriage that looks anything like yours? What would he say if I opened up, or if I asked him questions about his marriage? Just thinking about asking these type of questions to my family makes me cringe. Imagine asking my mom why she never had a desire to sleep next to the man she married and has loved since 1982?
This is also why I shied away from bringing up Thanksgiving, Brian, Planned Parenthood, and marriage equality.
On Christmas day we made a visit to my dad's mom, grandma. These visits are never easy for me. Seeing a person at the last act of their life. Her days consist of trips from her nursing home to the hospital and back. It makes me very nervous. In a blink, if I'm lucky, that will be me.
My brother married without kids
My mom established in her career
My dad retired and wondering what's next
My grandma widowed in a nursing home
and me, turning 28 and looking at these family members each in a stage of life that I will one day be in. Nothing I can do to stop it. Time moves forward, always. Blink and I will be married, Blink and I will be 30 years deep in a career, blink and I will be retired, blink and I will be battling my body to exist.
...Then...stop blinking.
This Christmas my parents really surprised me by helping me pay for some of my transmission fix. This whole time I was stranded in Columbus for Thanksgiving because of it and it really hurt me financially. I lamented the entire time to my mom about the situation. I didn't ask for help and I didn't expect any. Then out of nowhere I opened the gift. I almost cried. I've never felt that emotional over a gift my parents have given me. Usually it's cash or pure childhood excitement over the 1996 Nintendo 64. I was and still am deeply moved by it. I had to hold back my tears and I couldn't make eye contact to thank them.
I've always hated money. I've always wished I didn't have any and don't want any. But despite how much I hate it, it is a fact of life. Living paycheck to paycheck can create so much stress and anxiety. It can change a man. Create a scarcity mentality that can do some damage mentally. I'm not trying to act like I even know what it's like to be in poverty but receiving that financial help moved me. A part of me hated how much I was relieved. I shouldn't be this happy about filthy money...but at the same time a part of me embraced the emotions my body was experiencing. It was interesting. I want to have that sort of security, or that sort of burden relief for my children one day. Now I know what that feels like and I want them to share this experience.
Lastly, on this insanely long letter about my holiday weekend at home, I got a fitbit for Christmas. It can read my heart rate. Now that I am constantly aware of my heart I'm kind of freaking out. It beats so many times per minute, all the time...what if it stopped? What if it failed? I'm gone... I want to get my BPM down to 60. I think that will be my resolution for the new year. This muscle beating inside of me sustaining my existence, why have I never thought about it before? I need to work it out, I need to treat it right. I am 28... the years won't be getting any easier from here on out.
We are dust.
Wake Owl - Wild Country
I've had a lot of thoughts in that time and I'm not sure if I remember all of them.
Writing this letters, it's always hard to find the balance between living my life and reflecting on it.
I woke up Christmas Eve morning in the room I grew up waking up in Wauseon. My parents asked me to go through my stuff in the basement and decide what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to throw away. I walked down in to the basement and the area I had created and made my own space since Christmas of 2004 was completely taken over by Carter Lumber stuff. My dad had moved his office from the store to the basement.
I sorted through my stuff throwing away 99% of it keeping all my high school memories, ninja turtle toys, and old video game stuff. The perfect mix of nostalgia and hopeful memorabilia. At first I was kinda sad my dad had destroyed my fortress of solitude. I had taken a place in the house no one wanted and I made it my favorite. But now it was all gone.
But I had never seen my dad like this before. My memories of my dad growing up consisted of him waking up and leaving for work at an hour I didn't know existed in the morning, getting home around 6:15 for dinner then settling in to his couch for the evening to either watch whatever sporting event was on or some network sitcom. My dad rarely went on family vacations and his hobbies, from my perspective, were mowing the lawn and drinking at the V.F.W. once a week.
But this was a different man. He not only spent Christmas eve in that basement but he spent the entire time I was home down there. Organizing, setting up, remembering. It was actually really great to see. It was passion in my dad. I saw interest. He never cared what style of couch he sat on, nor the size of the TV he looked at. But this was different. My mom bought him a scrap book for Christmas, it's what he asked for...
...what he asked for?
My dad NEVER asked for anything for Christmas, never asked for anything ever... out of the 28 years I've been alive and the 26 Christmases I've spent watching my dad open presents in the morning I've only ever seen socks, sweat shirts, underwear, and pajama pants now he's excited to go through all his photos and put them in a scrap book? Who is this man?
I loved it. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. My dad's identity since he was a teenager was working at that lumber yard. It's who he was. Now it was taken from him. I wonder what that felt like? I wonder what he thought...
I wanted to sit down there and watch the man go through all of his memories. I wanted to watch his face as he finally reached the end of his career. That's my dad. The man who's blood runs in my veins, I lived with the man, I worked with him, and yet it's like he has this whole life I never knew about. Honestly I'm afraid to ask about. My family has such a surface depth to it. What would happen if I attempted to break the ice and dive deeper?
For instance the day after Christmas my mom made me drive to Toledo to fix the airbag in my car because of a recall. Of course my dad wanted to stay home so it was my mother, my brother and me driving around Toledo while we waited for my car to be fixed. My mom rode with me to drop off the car while my brother followed to drive us around while we waited. My mom asked a bit about school, she asked about me being single, she told me she ran into Whitney's mom somewhere and they talked about how her whole marriage went down. I told my mom that's one of the reasons why I may not get married.
Later Tyler joins us in the car and conversation. He starts talking like marriage is very simple, very easy, you just have to pick the right person...I almost bit my tongue off as I struggled not to break the ice of our surface family. What if I said something like I wouldn't want a marriage that looks anything like yours? What would he say if I opened up, or if I asked him questions about his marriage? Just thinking about asking these type of questions to my family makes me cringe. Imagine asking my mom why she never had a desire to sleep next to the man she married and has loved since 1982?
This is also why I shied away from bringing up Thanksgiving, Brian, Planned Parenthood, and marriage equality.
On Christmas day we made a visit to my dad's mom, grandma. These visits are never easy for me. Seeing a person at the last act of their life. Her days consist of trips from her nursing home to the hospital and back. It makes me very nervous. In a blink, if I'm lucky, that will be me.
My brother married without kids
My mom established in her career
My dad retired and wondering what's next
My grandma widowed in a nursing home
and me, turning 28 and looking at these family members each in a stage of life that I will one day be in. Nothing I can do to stop it. Time moves forward, always. Blink and I will be married, Blink and I will be 30 years deep in a career, blink and I will be retired, blink and I will be battling my body to exist.
...Then...stop blinking.
This Christmas my parents really surprised me by helping me pay for some of my transmission fix. This whole time I was stranded in Columbus for Thanksgiving because of it and it really hurt me financially. I lamented the entire time to my mom about the situation. I didn't ask for help and I didn't expect any. Then out of nowhere I opened the gift. I almost cried. I've never felt that emotional over a gift my parents have given me. Usually it's cash or pure childhood excitement over the 1996 Nintendo 64. I was and still am deeply moved by it. I had to hold back my tears and I couldn't make eye contact to thank them.
I've always hated money. I've always wished I didn't have any and don't want any. But despite how much I hate it, it is a fact of life. Living paycheck to paycheck can create so much stress and anxiety. It can change a man. Create a scarcity mentality that can do some damage mentally. I'm not trying to act like I even know what it's like to be in poverty but receiving that financial help moved me. A part of me hated how much I was relieved. I shouldn't be this happy about filthy money...but at the same time a part of me embraced the emotions my body was experiencing. It was interesting. I want to have that sort of security, or that sort of burden relief for my children one day. Now I know what that feels like and I want them to share this experience.
Lastly, on this insanely long letter about my holiday weekend at home, I got a fitbit for Christmas. It can read my heart rate. Now that I am constantly aware of my heart I'm kind of freaking out. It beats so many times per minute, all the time...what if it stopped? What if it failed? I'm gone... I want to get my BPM down to 60. I think that will be my resolution for the new year. This muscle beating inside of me sustaining my existence, why have I never thought about it before? I need to work it out, I need to treat it right. I am 28... the years won't be getting any easier from here on out.
We are dust.
Wake Owl - Wild Country