We Pondered Life and Death...He Lit a Cigarette

There is much truth in songs that are of the simplest content. One of my favorites, Billy Currington's, God Is Great, Beer is Good. This story told through lyrics in of the simplest and purest form. Telling truths found in bars, restaurants, pubs and countless other places across America...conversing with new found friends in that environment..by chance. Conversations that we strike up with a/an complete stranger(s)...learning about their life and their strife. Then and only then, if we are brave enough...more so truthful with these new acquaintance ships, they are given a brief insight into our lives. If we are open to allowing those individuals to take a brief look into our lives...permitting and allowing them to take an objective look into us.

It is my belief that these meetings are not chance encounters. These meetings happen because we meet that person or persons in the right moment at just the right...a precise time. These meetings are random and perhaps don't happen often, but when they do...they are worth it. In those moments, learning not only about the new acquaintance we just encountered...but learning something new about ourselves, from a fresh perspective. Someone who is completely objective, looking at our life as we presented it. We hold nothing back, telling a fresh set of ears the complexities of our middle aged lives and what we are facing...minute by minute, hour by hour, day to day...sometimes these individuals who have nothing whatsoever invested in us as individuals...prove to be the honest of them all. They can tell us like it is...with absolutely no repercussions. They just lend an ear and comment if they feel appropriate. No strings. No judgments. Just honesty. They have nothing to lose...and when we confide, we have nothing to lose either. It's therapeutic, I believe.

I have two, count 'em, two women in my life that I can be completely honest with in my own life...and my own struggles and strife. I'm certain, they can be honest with me, at least I believe they have always been forthcoming with me, as I have been with them. I'm so very thankful and eternally blessed for these two women, and I hope they know who they are when they read this. They have been more to me than I can express. They know me in ways that I may not admit to myself...but their steadfast love and devotion proves to be more than I have deserved or asked from them over the years. For this...I'm indebted, eternally.

I hope that those of you reading this have women/men in your life that you can be brutally honest with...and that they place no judgement on your actions, beliefs or the many or countless/numerous mistakes you may have made in the course of your life. If you have them, those friends in the purest and truest form....hold onto 'em. People like those don 't come around but every so often.They know your faults and shortcomings...but love you any damn ways. That's a helluva friend, my friend. Give thanks for them.

So, You're From Corbin, KY?

This week, while working, I met a man that was an African-American, 43 years of age. He and I became instant friends and he was not taken back by me, until he asked me where I was from. I hesitantly replied, "I'm from Corbin, KY." I am not ashamed of where I am from, but did not want to give off the wrong vibe by saying that particular sentence. This man was originally from Louisville, KY but had lived in many places in our nation...from Chicago to Cali, but he knew all about Corbin and the stereotypes that have been placed there over the years and all that they implied. He, a highly educated man, had read books about it...about my hometown.

I instantly began to think of my freshman year of college. I was sitting in my afternoon Sociology101 course, and the professor played a video, a video of Corbin, KY. As I watched, I saw people that I had knew and even some I had went to school with my entire young life. I was mortified by what they said. If you went to Corbin, you know/knew them, too....it was unbelievable the words they spoke. After the video, my professor asked the class if there was anyone present that was from Corbin, KY....I did not raise my hand, I did not acknowledge the comment as I was saddened by what had just unfolded in front of myself and my peers, and regretfully horribly embarrassed as to what my hometown represented that day in the fall of 1992.

Racism comes in many forms. I faced a battle of my own in the weeks that were ahead. The African-American young women on my dorm floor had preconceived ideas about me, when they realized that I was from Corbin, KY, left horrible messages for me on the dry erase board my roommate and I had placed on our door. When I returned to campus after going home for the weekend, I returned to horrendous racial remarks all over the door. It was then that I knew why they thought the things they did...but was not sure why they assumed that I fit that stereotype. I didn't. I never had went to school with any person of color, but it was because I never was given the chance.

This week, while standing in line at my two young children's school, I knew that they saw beyond color. I was so proud to witness their interaction with children of EVERY race. They just saw "friends." Simply, friends.

Ignorance is not bliss. Ignorance is taught...change your lesson plan friends if the ink in your pen inscribes hate or intolerance.

Tell 'Em Anything You Want To

If you have reviewed any of my blogs, you realize my views on various facets of adult life and learning. Never, until recently, have I ever been scared or afraid of what may lie ahead in my own life. I never had to worry much about stability and my future, until now. Life's uncertainties can be quite complex and perplexing.

I think as a 30 something (back side of 30 actually) we may look at things differently than we used to. Meaning, we have changed over a period of time...what once completely fulfilled us, now seems incomplete. An analogy of this, looking at a glass that once you believed was half full... is now is half empty.

Truth. That's what it is. Looking at something dead on, face to face and deciding if that's where you want to be. Or, looking at something head on and making a decision that that is no longer where you want to be...not for one more minute. Promises broken. Faith no more. Hope is something that you can no longer cling to, for it no longer exists like you once knew it to be.

Here's the kicker, you knew it long ago...years ago perhaps, that this was not right and ignored your own intuition for the thought of the greater good. Hoping on a whim that maybe, just maybe, things would take a turn for the better. But the day never arrived and you know whole heartily, it will not .You finally, after this passage of time, acknowledge it and have moved on and feeling all the better for it. You finally realize that your loyalty and steadfast love is not quite enough to make it "right." That's all you have ever wanted was right...but there is no degree of  normalcy, stability or promise. It is stagnant and it has been that way for longer than you wish to admit. What once you believed in with every fiber or yourself, you now know is unbelievable. That's the truth....this one is for my very best friend and for me as well. We don't tell 'em all the truth, but we know exactly where the truth in the purest form lies.

They Don't Make 'Em Like That Anymore

I don't know about you, but I think moving, packing, storing and then unpacking in at a new residence may just be one of the worst things known to man. For the past days, my home has been filled with boxes and bags of every shape and size in every damn place. Especially, when one is doing it solo. I do not recommend it. My spouse has taken one bed apart for the move...that's IT. I have done the rest. Well, the exception being the first man in my life w/ the last name O'Connell. Some of you may know him...and the others of you that don't, your loss.

This man has a plan for every move. A strategic one...leaving nothing to chance. Each item going in just the right space and making the most of every inch. Meticulous and skilled precision down to each minuscule detail. The phrase "on top of your game"...he could have invented it.

But this is about much more than just the occurrences of the recent days/weeks. He has been my savior all my life. The only man that has ever taken complete care of me...and I have been a handful my whole life. I adore this individual. The only male I have ever completely trusted with everything. My safe haven. My safe place to fall and I have stumbled countless times. No matter, he reaches out his hand to assist me and helps in dusting myself off so I can get right back up again without skipping a beat. There's much to be said for any individual that exudes those attributes. He's not perfect...but he's my perfection and forever in his debt I will remain.

As we were working today, Pandora was playing in the background and this song came on. I overheard him singing it. I didn't even know he liked Billy Joel. But I hope that he knows that I love him more than anything in the wide world. Thank you, daddy...for everything.

You Only Think You Know Their Story

In today's society, we are ever so quick to pass judgement and  I'm as guilty as the next guy (or gal). We want people to think we have it all together, but we do not. We are always second guessing and hoping that our decisions from day-to-day are the correct ones. I know I do. You're kidding yourself and everyone else around you if you do not do the same. We wonder or are at least semi-curious as to how others see us. Judging ourselves, but are partial to ourselves and our own.

We judge in an instant on appearance. I'm not speaking of physical beauty, but we do then as well even when we don't realize we're doing it. We form an opinion in a millisecond by the way a person dresses, what car they drive, how their children behave, political preference, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, their home, etc. We judge even before we know much at all. Here say, we judge it. 

Here's the thing, how bout knowing their struggles? Their fears? Their heartbreaks? Their....prayers on bended knee? Bet we would reconsider what we first perceived in the first place, of course, in some instances we would hold the same opinion...regardless. Here's the second thing, we only care unless it is brought to our attention or we cared for the welfare of a particular individual in the first place. Then, and only then, do we go to bat for the ones we love. Seeing then too, only what we wish to see about our friends, family, etc. You know its true and I do too. Right or wrong. 

A negative judgement gives you and I more satisfaction than praise, provided it smacks of jealousy. It can be toxic. No, we do not know their story...not even on our best day. Nor do they know ours...not even close.

 Don't wait for the last  judgement, it takes place everyday. ~Albert Camus

Like a Miracle, Some Golden Words Roll Off Their Tongue

There's nothing on the planet like having that handful of people that you are lucky enough to have or the privilege to call them friends. I think it would be awesome, theoretically speaking, if friends were like real-estate listings. I mean this is more truthful way. So, when buying into someone, we know what we're getting. It would be just what we wanted. The perfect fit. Oh, and there would be perks. Those little things that we just loved about the property. The attributes about the home that were too good to pass up. We were sold the moment we walked in the foyer and never had to be coaxed or negotiated. Everything we had been searching for...under one roof. An investors dream.

Too many times, theoretically speaking again, we buy into those properties that look impeccable on the outside and jump in without seeing the interior for what it really is. Squeaky floors, cracked moldings, bad grout work in an expensive tile floor, leaky faucets and too many other dislikes and updates that were countless. Those things that were so undesirable in a home that we couldn't begin to tally with any degree of accuracy. Some of the improvements that are desperately needed you may not even see at first glance, but they are there...costing you big time. An investors nightmare.

Now, not theoretically speaking, it seems relatively simple but I am just not sure how or why so many of us get it all wrong. Perhaps we expect what they cannot give us. Perhaps we don't accept them for everything they were, what they are at present and who we hope for them to someday be. Perhaps we think too much and maybe that's problem. We can't just let them be. Let friendship...just be. It doesn't need all those improvements you once thought were shortcomings. Nor is it ever as perfect as you planned. It just is.

Then, when you least expect it, you turn on your computer, open an email and there it is. A message in an inbox from a friend, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I have had you on my mind and I love you." Two sentences that changed an entire day. That's it. That's all. That's just enough.

Missiles With Wings

There are three stages of the truth. One, it is denied or even ridiculed. Two, it is opposed. Third, it is self-evident. If you are/were old enough to know, then there is no doubt, you know exactly the mark of this day. The mark is imprinted in your mind. And, as long as you are of sound mind and body, you will continue to remember this date. What you were doing in that instant. What your thoughts and fears were in that moment. Where you were. Who you were with. Whether you listening to it via radio or watched it unfold on television. It was the stoppage of time, irregardless of the sand passage through the hourglass.

It wasn't until my second child returned home from school today that I decided to blog about the day of September 11th 2001. He asked me if I would allow him to watch on YouTube the videos of the planes hitting the towers. This is the first year that he actually heard the testimonies of the victims families on video and audio, saw pictures of the people that would never come home and shockingly watched the footage of those people who voluntarily jumped out of those buildings holding hands to their deaths. He had learned about it in school on previous anniversaries and knew about that day, but not to this degree. It is sad and unfortunate...this child has never known a country that was not at war.

He wasn't even 2 months old at the time, on that day. My mother was staying with me at the time. She came into the bedroom where myself and Benny Kyle (my now 11 year old) were napping that morning. She was crying and said, "Kelly, I think something is very wrong, a commercial airplane just hit one of the Twin Towers in NYC." I immediately walked into the television room, and it wasn't long after I sat down that the next Boeing hit the second tower. I remember how scary it was and wondering if I should go to the elementary school and get my oldest child. I had never seen in my life those happenings and was not sure what was going to happen next.

So, I wanted to share some of the things with you that my young son shared with me upon returning from school today. He told me about the wing-span of those airplanes, explained that when they hit the buildings and the ground in Pennsylvania, they were similar to missiles but with wings. He told me about the calls that were made from the plane. He showed me some of the faces that lost their lives on that day, some I remembered...some I did not recall. He spoke of all those babies, yet to be born, that never had a chance to meet their daddies. But after telling me about the terrorists, he closed with something much greater than the attackers hate for us. He said, "Mama, there's going to be a new tower called, The Freedom Tower, did you know that?" I pretended not to so he could tell me all about it.

How fitting, freedom. Freedom from the ashes where a new building emerges and takes shape. A symbol of something that so many of us in this country takes for granted. I was reminded of all the courageous and selfless acts that took place on that day and the days that followed. A lecture that served as a reminder, from my living room classroom, from not a professor...but from an 11 year old boy.