52 again

"Self-Realization is rarely good news." - Unknown.

April 25, 2018
Chris Reeves
letobook@yahoo.com

When did I know it was over?

A week ago.

Well, Sunday. Which was 3 days. But it happened last week.

As such things seem to occur, in the most inauspicious of places and times. Kneeling by the fridge.  She had just asked if there was any of that "nice chicken" left. - after she came back from some time away with a friend. She'd been looking for a few minutes.
"Yup..." I offered, kneeling, and started to root in the back of the bottom shelf.
Then: "Right here!" as I offered up the package to her. "I knew it was there cause I gave some to Strider with his supper this week."
"This is really good chicken. Don't waste this on the dog."
I waited a moment and debated but decided I had to ask; "Waste?"
"You don't think there's a difference between a human and a dog?" She offered.
Again, I waited. My son within earshot and listening. "Yes. I like dogs better than most humans." I decided to say. And left the kitchen.

It shook me. I was actually dumbstruck.

It was the kind of thing that, if we were dating, would put about 20 checks in the "dump" column for me. For the first time I realized that I didn't recognize her.


One of the things I've hated about the past year is how cliché everything is. Every rotten story. Every undeveloped character. I'm middle aged. The wife is leaving me. I lost the good-paying job and the expense account. My dog died. I looked at a picture of my dad to long until I wondered if I would recognize him if he walked past me in the street. It was kind of scary. Then I realized, "Cliché" is just another term for "Average".

Imagine taking someone like Roger Waters, or Bowie, or Freddie Mercury. Or anyone who inspires. Give them all the potential to change the world the way they do. Give them all the skills and abilities they need then remove from them the ability for their direct exercise.

It's been a weird year. I feel.... Old. Or maybe I just have started to mature mentally and this is growing pains from leaving elements of youth behind. I have been surprised with my self image. Low as it is, I never thought of myself as an adult. Silly example, when R at work berates me (however rare) for some slight, I was a 14 year old child. I had no rights, no opinions, I was just chagrined and shy and wanted it to stop so I could get past it. What would my dad have done?

My dad was an old man. My dad was ancient. His hands were knarled by arthritis. He had "train-tracks" from a heart operation. He couldn't get out of a chair without grunting or sit in a chair without flumping into it.   I don't think he ever wore anything other than a work uniform or a short-sleeved plaid collared shirt. I couldn't say if I ever saw him in a t-shirt, much less wearing childish slogans and symbols usually long cast aside.  He had wrinkles and I remember wondering what it felt like to feel that old.  My parents were both ancient together for a time and they talked about famous people dying that no one else in the world had ever heard of. Born April 11 1928, died Dec 9 1988.



I'm older than my dad now.  How old am I?

I wasn't prepared for the strength of the blow dealt to me the morning I realized I now lacked a father figure.

Not that the blow itself was a particularly recent one, my father having passed some 30 years previous. But that on this epiphany I realized that I had reached the age that my father had reached when he died. 

In no memory I have of my father, can he be older than I am right now.

I've never really considered myself scarred or haunted by anything. A casual insult from an older dick in some tennis courts in grade school many years ago tied me to the epithet "Chunky" for the longest time. I had a dream that some red drapes from my old bedroom were sneaking up behind to bite my mom but I couldn't warn her. They turned to me in my panic and sighed: "I want to talk to her!"


I inadvertently let my son watch the original made-for-tv-movie "It" and he is still afraid of clowns and of Pennywise incarnations both old and new.

When I was a kid I saw a re-run of the old black and white 1959 Twilight Zone episode called "Time Enough At Last". Mild enough story. Still haunts me to this day and has become a source of some anxiety for me that I can't read a book or a paper without glasses now.

I believe I finally understand the term "mid-life crisis" beyond the humor and the stereotypes. I find myself thinking about my dad a lot. I don't recall following any particular credo that he instilled in me. More of a feeling of "How would my dad act in response to this particular situation?"


I watched the movie "No Country for Old Men" with my son and got chills when I heard Tommy-Lee Jones, talking about his departed father, say; "I'm older than he was by now by 20 years"

The New 52

I wasn't prepared for the strength of the blow dealt to me the morning I realized I now lacked a father figure.
Not that the blow itself was a particularly recent one, my father having passed some 30 years previous. But that on this epiphany I realized that I had reached the age that my father had reached before he died.


I've never really considered myself scarred or haunted by anything. A casual insult from an older dick in some tennis courts in grade school many years ago tied me to the epithet "Chunky" for the longest time. I had a dream that some red drapes from my old bedroom were sneaking up behind to bite my mom but I couldn't warn her. They turned to me in my panic and sighed: "I want to talk to her!"


I inadvertently let my son watch the original made-for-tv-movie "It" and he is still afraid of clowns and of Pennywise incarnations both old and new.


When I was a kid I saw a re-run of the old black and white 1959 Twilight Zone episode called "Time Enough At Last". Mild enough story. Still haunts me to this day and has become a source of some anxiety for me that I can't read a book or a paper without glasses now.

The Gift of Thought

When I was much younger I loved a particular episode of Mork and Mindy. It grew on me and re-surfaced as an adult.


Mork gives some well-intended but loathsome gifts one Christmas episode. He gets ridiculed by the mean-girl character and asks what he did wrong?


He's told he did nothing wrong, that it is the classic "thought" behind the gift that is important.


Mork, being an alien, misunderstands and takes them literally. He tells them he can give them an actual "thought". He makes a funny noise and all 3 support characters reveal some wonderful thought they were brought back to. Mindy remembers a lost dog returning. The dad remembers holding his infant daughter for the first time. You get the idea.


I'm not Mork, but I thought I had come close.


When I listen to music, something sometimes happens. I'm probably not unique in this, but certain songs on certain days can almost transport me back to an earlier moment in my life. I can't control the association and they are not all good ones. I've started a trend on Twitter called "#MINDTRAVEL where you tell people the song and the forever-association you have attached to it. I'm making up the rules as I go but I post updates when I think of any new rules.








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skit for SNL where man in video seems cool singing to hidden surveillance video of him buying weed. jurors sympathize with him.

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Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday.


What can I say? I have the best family and friends in all creation.


I woke to the smell of bacon and knew I was in for a great day. My wife woke up ahead of me and already walked our dog so I wouldn't have to get dressed right away to walk him!


I made my way downstairs and was pleased to see a few small wrapped boxes on the kitchen table. I pretended not to notice them as I accepted a big hug from the two of them already busy at work on a birthday breakfast.


"52" is a big year. Big as it has a connection with my son. "52" is what DC named their new universe right around the time he started getting interested in comics. They used "52" numerous times in Easter eggs on "The Flash", a show we used to bond over.


It's also how old my father was when he died.


I thought about that the other day.


No memory of my father, no matter where when or how, can be a memory of him older than I am right at this moment. I certainly don't feel as old as the image I have of my father. I don't know if I ever felt like a grown-up but that is the only type of memory I have of my father. Is as a grown-up. Any day now I could tease him and start saying: "Hey little guy". If he was still around.
Lunch is simple, but one of my favorites. Sausage with mashed potatoes and gravy.  I'm an easy date ;-)
The afternoon is mine to do with what I wish. Mainly I didn't want to have to do any housework so the family whipped around the night before. Not perfect, but tidy enough that I can sit and enjoy a game on Xbox free of guilt.