How Can I Be?

How can I be sure in a world that’s constantly changing? A song from the Young Rascals in the idyllic 60’s descended on me and so I write about just that.  The rapidity of the 21st Century’s dynamic make the 60’s seem like a turtle moving through molasses by comparison. Of course at the time change was beginning to accelerate just how much it would however was at the time incalculable.  

How can I be sure? Not as easy today as had been in the past when life was more black and white like so many of the TV sets in homes. Now to paraphrase the pop culture’s latest craze; life’s permutations are more like 50 shades of grey.  No longer can we be sated in thinking we’ve done the right thing by simply telling the truth. The oft-used anagram of TMI (too much information) is a discretionary tool we need to consider when we divulge every facet of our lives to another. The AA phrase of making amends to all person’s we have harmed except when to do so would injure another is a discerning tool to use in deciding what goes said and what is better left unsaid. 

This is of course is in no way to condone prevarication but there are some details that will only add needless controversy and exacerbate situations that if left alone would remain innocuous. The best way to proceed might be the completion backwards principle wherein we future pace what we plan to say. Then we can  try to predict with the most amount of accuracy what we are trying to accomplish in what we say to another and how much is necessary and how much is not.  There are always ways to make sure our point is made staying away from our inflated egos and self-aggrandizement.  Just how we navigate these shark infested waters have to be left prefaced with a prayer so that our words have a soft landing but never leaving our loved ones and friends left in the dark when to do so would also harm them.  

The Fall of '12

Last year in the summer of  ’11 I had one of the best seasons of my life despite a deeply controversial personal life.  Now that the summer of ‘12 has come and gone and fall is upon us I am determined to make it the best season of my 61 years. I often say the stick is getting shorter but with a rigorous exercise schedule and more attention paid to my diet I am determined to choke up on the bat and make contact with all the days my Higher Power chooses to bestow on me.  

A friend suggested recently that I should live everyday as if  it was my last and although I have heard this mantra before especially in AA I am taking it more to heart now than ever before. The only reason we don’t live this way is because we think we have all the time in the world. Of course we don’t and we only have today and if I keep this in mind even for part of each day I will avoid more chaos and sleep like a baby. I don’t know what’s in store I just hope I can make a difference starting with the Fall of ’12.  

In the Company of Strangers

This Saturday I found myself visiting with my good albeit enigmatic friend. I was to meet him at his home in Greenport and then take the North Ferry to beautiful Shelter Island.  When we arrived at the palatial estate of the resident 100 Millionaire he gave us not more than an askance look as he went about his business entertaining some of his weekend guests. He was polite enough be speckled in his red frame glasses, but this man could barely spare of a dimes worth of attention with us. That was okay enough as we were there for other reasons and as we surveyed the business portion of our visit I started to get antsy for the promised BBQ being held in Bridgehampton later that day in the company of strangers.  

As we headed to our eventual destination snaking through the winding road of route 114 we made our way to the South Ferry.  A pleasant enough break from driving and as we chatted about business the ride was over seemingly in minutes.  Two different companies operate these two ferries and interestingly enough they charge the same rate even though the South Ferry is half the distance of the North. I never get a discount on my Mini when I get it washed so why should I think this might be different. My friend knows the East End like the back of his hand and I was simply amazed how he avoided most of the traffic as tourists clung to the end of summer as if it might not come again.   

Arriving at our final destination we found a bunch of 30 something’s celebrating a birthday of a young man who made millions in some dot com sale and in his White Communion like suit it told me although he was rich he was as uncomfortable as anyone could be thrust into the spotlight. He gave us a very polite but perfunctory greeting.  His date was a statuesque beauty right out of Victoria Secret and as she sidled up and down his frame I thought to myself these two needed a room right quick. 

I love to be in the company of strangers because I can be totally free in my commentary and although I will always be polite I can be irreverent as I wish and be extemporaneously glib to my hearts content. I did wind up talking to a young Nubian girl of 23 (by the way I guessed her age) and had her complete attention as I rattled off little known facts that only an eccentric like me would know. Of course she didn’t know who Steve McQueen was and she promised she would google it when she got home. Fascinating how young people today think The Breakfast Club is an old movie and if it didn’t happen during their lifetime it didn’t happen. 

Strangely thinking I had life’s answers for her she asked me to come over and sit on the couch because she had an important question for me. She blurted out that she was thinking of joining the Marines and did I think it was a good idea. I was taken aback although tried not to show it. And as I took out my thinking cap I gave her my best set of questions to help her come to her own conclusion. A delightful child I hope she makes what she wants in life and that is to make a difference. 

I concluded the evening after wolfing down plenty of BBQ chicken and salmon with a night pool swim in the company of strangers.  

Minding My Ps and McQs

This is the Jack version that makes an old cliché a bit more personal. The formal version of minding my Ps & Qs is an archaic reference dating back possibly to the 17th Century. It means essentially be on your best behavior. 

Often it is not what I do it is what I fail to do.  Planning ahead was never a forte of mine and because I fail to plan I often get swamped when I wait too long to do things promptly when the monster is just a baby.  This default modus operandi causes money wasted, hurt feelings and leaves people including myself unsure of where they stand.  More about that in a Jacbook of the future.  

I like to think I keep to myself but because I am an attention whore (as someone once referred to me as) I get myself “in extremis” more times than I can count.  My intuition is strong but when it comes to minding my Ps & McQs as they pertain to my life I get a F- if that grade is possible.  

What to do?  One thing I have to do is keep my mouth shut when it comes to divulging information that is not pertinent.  Many times I get sidetracked in idle chatter that is seemingly innocuous but because I am so descriptive it often becomes a narrative and I end up with trouble that is totally unnecessary. There have been times when I withhold information for fear of losing something dear and I cause heartache all around. 

I think that my military schooling is the first road I can look to as an orderly approach to my day and weeks ahead.  This would help me to be less reactive to situations that my intuition tells me (but I often ignore) are going to happen.  It’s simple enough make a schedule and stick to it. Life has to be flexible but there are some items that I cannot leave out or deviate from. 

Socially I know what I need to do and if I adhere to it happiness will be my reward even if I have to disappoint others. This will help eliminate some of the psychosocial drama that seems to follow me like a pilot fish on a shark.  In business I need to take my persistence and relentlessness into a format that is orderly and systematic instead of the out of a clear blue sky, which is purely chaotic.  

Physically is the one front I seem to have a good focus on even though there are those that think my exercise regimen is obsessive and compulsive.  I know where my addictions are and feel comfortable that I have those in check.  

Psychologically I am fit when it comes to being an advisor to people that I don’t have a personal investment in. I need to take this calm demeanor and apply that wisdom to lower elevated heartbeats and a sweaty brow.   

Jack CASAC

As my studies in the curriculum of a CASAC begin I am marked by the genuine excitement I feel towards the vocation that I may have been born for. The study of alcohol from its history throughout the ages to the emotional, physiological and social affects it has on those that are dependent and abuse that liquid substance will be my ultimate therapy as I head into my sunset years. I know I have a lot to give between my God given grey cells to my experience and gregarious nature. The world I will touch will be the legacy I have always longed for.  

I have talked the talk and now I will be able to walk the walk all the while reinforcing my own sobriety that I protect like the pirates who guarded their buried treasure with their very lives.  

This past month marked year XXIII in Roman Numeral time of my sobriety and for the first time in many an anniversary I can genuinely say that I have a renewed sense of purpose as a sponsor and with my enrollment as a student in the certificated course as a Certified Alcohol and Substance Abuse Counselor.  Someone once told me I have "game" and for this alcoholic my “game” will be to really put in the footwork and help others do the same.  

Top of the Light Zone

Above the clouds once again and the week that was will be the last time my Father has forever left the building and there’s nothing I can do about it.  And when I said goodbye to him I merely chirped I’d see you later Dad.  No need for anything more as my words would be gone in an instant almost as quickly as he drew his next breath. I hope that God takes him home to my Mother’s side in the not to distant ticks of the clock because his quality of life is like an empty box of crackers. I have no regrets as I have said all I had to say to him some years ago when his faculties were at his fingertips. Although I always loved him he was a difficult man for me to like because of his intimidating parental style he employed in my formative years. 

My youngest sister gave me the insight I needed when she said his world was much like that of a child’s as everything is about him. His pronouncements of hunger and his next visit to the toilet were his return to the child he once was some 80 plus years ago. It was funny and sad as I listened to his exclamations. The smiles were tempered however with the realization that my sisters and I will soon have to relinquish the reins to the professionals of assisted living which if his health holds out are but a virtual certainty.  

Father time catches up with all of us sooner or later and I am ever cognizant that my own stick is getting shorter but I do hope my trip to the top of the light zone is quick like the extinguishing of a light saber. And I can only pray that the noise left in my corporeal form will ring like the bells of Notre Dame and not the static between radio stations on the dial.  

Driving With My Dad

When I automatically assented to take care of my Dad this week in the absence of my dear sister, I had no clue what I was in for, no clue. I have or so I thought forgotten all the psychic wounds between my Father and I after all I am an adult and a child can often misconstrue things in their own egocentric world. However, I discovered that two of my character defects of impatience and intolerance would wage a pitched battle with me and in some of the skirmishes I was vanquished. 

My Dad, in advancing stages of Dementia is not the Father I knew but when he is still alive on earth it’s challenging to remember that he is not responsible for anything he says or does.  And for some reason only known to God he remains in the waking state. Maybe one reason might be is for his son to learn lessons about himself that he still needs to.  I can only wish that he is oblivious to his own pain and cannot tell the hurt that my sisters and family feel as we watch him disintegrate before our very eyes.  

My Mom passed more than 12 ½ years ago and I know that she is watching over him and sending me messages through the medium of the universe that I am finally starting to listen to. I have begun to filter out my own selfish ways that I am being inconvenienced by his short-term memory that appears to be less than minute. It’s like pouring water into a glass with a hole in it and anyone who lives with a loved one with this condition knows what I am talking about.  

 I made a video of him and I driving this past week and when I watched it I laughed out loud and thought it was funny but I also knew that this time might be the last time.  Driving with my Dad a moment in time I will treasure all the days of my life.  

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