A sense of where I am

They tell us that as we get older, our sight diminishes. Then why do I feel like I see so many more things than I did when I was a boy? The colors, the shadows, the souls of those I love and particularly those I don't.

They tell us that as we get older, our sense of smell diminishes. Then why do I feel like I seem to enjoy the smells of so many more things than I did when I was a boy? The flowers, the honeysuckle and Cheryl's amazing meals cooking on the stove?

They tell us that as we get older, our sense of taste diminishes. Then why do I feel like I seem to enjoy the taste of so many more things than I did when I was a boy? Tastes dramatic and slight, foods exotic and familiar.

They tell us that as we get older, our hearing diminishes. Then why do I feel like I seem to enjoy the sounds of so many more things than I did when I was a boy? The giggling of children, the cutting of a skate blade on ice, the wind blowing through the trees and their leaves gently settling down on the ground.

They tell us that as we get older our senses erode. But I feel like I have a better sense of the glory of all that surrounds me, of how wonderfully lucky I am, the value of the incredible people in my life - friends and family, than I ever have. I value the sounds of silence as much as I do the joy in the voices around me; the sight of a beautiful woman as much as I do the changing colors of the leaves this month; the taste of a good cheesesteak and the subtle seasoning of a pile of truffle fries; and even the touch of or by a fellow human, whether in the throes of passion or a gentle touch on the arm.

Ain't life grand?

Thoughts of Pain and Joy

Somehow, given what happened in Las Vegas Sunday night, it just doesn't seem right to post anything here that doesn't in some way speak to it. Events like that usually take a while to hit me fully. At first when I heard what happened, I had the usual thoughts of "Oh no, not again." And I watched maybe 10 minutes of coverage to get the overall sense of what happened, but then found myself annoyed that my favorite morning show - Morning Joe - had been taken over with this story.

But then, as yesterday wore on, I found myself getting sadder and sadder, just past melancholy (sounds somewhat appropriately like a country music song title).

It's been a bad month or so lately:

- multiple massive hurricanes
- an equally devastating earthquake
- the sudden death of Ted, our good friend of 45ish years, his memorial service/celebration the day before the Las Vegas shooting
- my seeming to too often upset people I love without my always understanding how or why or certainly, intention
- and also sometimes being upset by people in my life, mostly just because I'm too damn sensitive

And now this awful shooting spree. It's hard to know whether to try to look past these things and focus on the many good and positives things in my life and in the world, or whether to stop and feel the pain of those impacted, honoring and validating their losses. And try to do what we can to either help alleviate their pain, or to do what we can to keep them from happening again.

I guess I'll just try to do my best to do all of the above. 

When I got home last night, I had planned to have a drink with Cheryl down by the pool to process all sorts of thoughts about these and many things. But instead I was surprised almost immediately by my awesome niece, Becca and her dad Richard who were here for our friend's life celebration and who I thought had already left.

And so, we all spent the evening in each others' company - Cheryl, me, Becca, Richard, Laurie, our recently deceased friend Ted's son Beau and his girlfriend and a variety of others.

And I am reminded of the value and importance and primacy of the need to surround ourselves with those we love as frequently as possible. And feel the pain, and laugh and revel in our joys, and try to do better every single day.