A Baron, Fried Chicken & Trailblazing

There were two of us "souls" on this twin-engine Beechcraft Baron, the pilot and me. The pilot was my dear friend Steve--an excellent pilot by the way; thank God. We had just taken off from Boise, Idaho, headed for Portland, Oregon. The air-traffic controller comes on the radio and says something like, "I'll be losing radio contact with you for awhile, give me your vital information." So Steve says, "There are two souls on board." and gives our names, the phone numbers of our next-of-kin, etc.

We're over the Rockies, presumably, the clouds are so thick you can't see tomorrow. Then Steve says, "That's not good!"

Two people you never want to hear that from: your pilot and your doctor.

The crisis involved the plane's wings and props beginning to ice up. Long story; happy ending. After all, I'm sitting here typing this on a lovely Saturday morning with a good cup of coffee.

There are those moments for us "men of a certain age" when we wonder what kind of mark we're leaving. Not to sound morbid (and for the record, I'm feeling great), but one of these days, when your funeral is over and family and friends are back at the church eating fried chicken, potato salad and German chocolate cake. What will they talk about?

He was funny. He talked a good game. He was rather arrogant and self-obsessed; after all who writes a blog 'all ABOUT me' other than the Pioneer Woman and young, hipster women who post pictures of their cats and their food?

Worse yet, what if the only thing they talk about is how good the chicken is?

So, what would I want people to say? I've given that some thought. It's a work in progress, but so far I have this: He was funny. He loved his family and they knew it. He spoiled his grand-girls so rotten they now all have blogs with huge followings, where they post a lot of selfies. And, he was a trail-blazer.

My inspiration for this new vision is this line from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

Let me say right now, I love the sentiment in this, but I have a few issues with Ralph's rhetoric. More on that in the next post.

To be continued...

The Kings & I

THE KINGS ARE DEAD AND I DON'T FEEL TOO HOT MYSELF. (Thank you Lewis Grizzard).

Now, I don't claim to be Royalty--although "Sir Pops" has a nice royal/commoner ring to it. If only I could get word to the Queen.

I don't claim to be Royalty--although I really, really like that hot little pop song by Lorde called "Royals". Here are the lyrics to the catchy chorus. The song sort of hints that we can self-define royalty. So maybe I can be a Royal.

And we'll never be royals (royals).
It don't run in our blood,
That kind of luxe just ain't for us.
We crave a different kind of buzz.
Let me be your ruler (ruler),
You can call me queen Bee
And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule.
Let me live that fantasy.

You can check out the music video of Royals here.

Even with that, I still don't claim to be Royalty, however I do have a lot in common with two guys that are arguably among the most well known and loved Kings: King David and Elvis.

Notice they both have great hair and that cool little lip curl deal. I don't.

Quickly, let me say to my more fundamentalist friends: no, I am not comparing myself to a beloved Biblical stalwart. It may seem like that, but I'm not. Really. By the way, did you know that the name "David" means beloved? Just saying.

Starting with age before beauty, let's look at King David. Although I am known by two of the most important people in the world as "Pops", to many others I'm known by my given name: David. So he and I have that in common.

I think I may also share his propensity for being very well-intentioned but occasionally weak and narcissistic. Well--at least I'm that way. For example, I don't know for sure what I would have done if I had been king and noticed a babe like Bathsheba bathing on the roof of the house next door. But I'm not going to sit here like some kind of pompous, royal arse and pretend like I'm stronger than him.

We probably could all guess what Elvis would have done in a similar situation. He would have put a little extra Brylcream (because a little dab'l do ya) on the pompadour, grabbed his guitar and lured her over with some hip action and a siren song.

Detour: Speaking of the patented Elvis hip action. I'm confident if the boy had lived into his senior years, he most certainly would have been looking at at least one hip replacement.

So, how about Elvis? What similarity could I possibly claim to this renowned king? January 8. That's right. Elvis and I share a birthday.

Back in my first coming of age, I was not a fan of Elvis and his music--at all. Oh, I appreciated his breaking of rock and roll ground. But my tastes were more to acts like The Beatles, The Kinks, The Yardbirds, The Animals, The Rolling Stones, etc.

Unfortunately, back in the day when I listened to pop/rock radio, I had to spend every birthday listening to Elvis music, because it was his birthday too, and after all; he was The King.

Now, in my second-coming of age, I enjoy hearing a good Elvis standard or two. I now realize how important he was to the shift in musical culture. As was King David. That's right. David was a musician himself. And hey, so am I!

We know for sure David played the harp. He played for that nutty King Saul and chased his haunting spirits away. David also apparently organized the very first band--don't believe me?--It's in the Bible. (1 Chronicles 25) I wonder if they practiced in the garage of the royal chariot.

Sadly, we can't draw many lessons about living our second-coming of age from Elvis. He died 1n 1977 at the age of 42. I have learned this though:

"Wise men say, only fools rush in..."

King David, on the other hand, lived to be around 70ish. I did a bit of biblical research to see how he did in his old age and came up with this: 

When King David was old and well advanced in years, he could not keep warm even when they put covers over him.  So his servants said to him, “Let us look for a young virgin to attend the king and take care of him. She can lie beside him so that our lord the king may keep warm.” 1 Kings 1:1-2

Wow. There's a concept for a "senior living center". I can see the TV ad now... and in the background Elvis is singing: "Are you lonesome tonight."

Here's my birthday conclusion: no matter how royal we may think we are, sometimes we ain't nothin' but hounddogs.

Happy Birthday Elvis--wherever you are.

Are You Paying Attention?

... your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Acts 2:17

I don't know if I am "old" by biblical standards. If Methuselah is on the scale at his purported age of 969, then I'm a Spring Chicken whatever the heck that is. Still, I do feel like I've moved from any possibility of being a young visionary to being an old dreamer. The fact is--I've always been a bit of a dreamer. Not in a grand Martin Luther King-I Have A Dream way, just the mind-wandering kind.

During my formative years (the 50s & 60s), daydreaming was discouraged by the mental health community and educators calling it a failure of mental discipline which could lead to psychosis. Freud labeled it infantile and neurotic.

I can remember teachers telling students (me) to "stop daydreaming." Then one day it happened--I brought home a report card where a teacher had branded me, "David is a daydreamer!" It seemed so ominous, as if I were stricken and there was no cure.

Imagine the horror and embarrassment for my family. In hushed tones, they would tell people: "Our son is a daydreamer." I could imagine scenarios like this: "He had a promising career on the assembly line at the Almond Joy factory, with the prestigious job of placing the almonds on each bar. But alas, he was a daydreamer. He would drift off to that place in his troubled little head and bar after bar would pass him, missing their nuts. Now he works at the Mounds factory because, as you know: while 'Almond Joy's got nuts--Mounds don't.'" Which, from my perspective, is a good thing because, as a daydreamer, "sometimes you feel like a nut--sometimes you don't."

Apparently there is some connection between the Industrial Revolution and the view of daydreaming as being dangerous and a waste of time and resources. People "went to work", making goods. So we needed to be more utilitarian. The arts, writing, composing--the stuff of dreamers, became like so much extravagance.

Today I am happy to tell you that my chronic daydreaming has not been cured. And lucky for me, mental health experts now agree that daydreaming is not only healthy, but an essential part of a creative mind.

One of my favorite lines on the "Big Bang Theory" is when someone calls Sheldon crazy. He replies, "I am not crazy. My mother had me tested."

I have been tested too. Don't over-read this; I'm not building the case for a genius IQ here. Too many people are still living who can attest otherwise. The test I'm referring to here is something called the Pearson-Marr Archetype Indicator®. It's a real thing, look it up.

The results of the test explained me this way:

At your best, when you fulfill your potential, you are highly imaginative and even inspired, and your skill-level allows you to create with ease. You have moments when the ideas just flow and creativity seems effortless. You have a wonderfully developed aesthetic sense and surround yourself with things that reflect your taste. You have the potential, moreover, to create your own life as a work of art, so that you avoid the ordinary, the shallow, and the mundane, opting for more satisfying ways of life, even if this means that others do not always understand why you live the way you do.

I was feeling pretty good about myself until I got to the "needs to improve" section, then it took on the air of those comments teachers used to write on my report card--things like: 

• Tame the inner critic so that you become less critical of others, undermining their confidence.
• Move from an ego-centric focus to an attitude of service.
• Balance artistry with being a responsible, thoughtful person.
• Avoid the trap of self-indulgence.

Odin the Wanderer (1896) by Georg von Rosen (Wikipedia)

I know I am and probably have always been a mental vagabond.
As it turns out, daydreaming does not necessarily mean you are not "paying attention." It's just from a different perspective with a different focal point.

One of my favorite authors is G.K. Chesterton and one of my favorite quotes of his is this: 

The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.

I prefer to travel--to see what I see, to ponder it, to maybe write about it or talk it about it with other travelers.

Speaking of great writers and "travelers" J.R.R. Tolkien is one of the greatest. A line of his I use often is this one:

Not all those who wander are lost.

I might add that not all those who dream are lazy, listless or lost. Oh, and that line of Tolkien's is from a poem he wrote for his fantasy novel The Lord of the Rings.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

I wish you sweet dreams!

Age Is A Number

This week I've been in school. Although it's been years since I put on a new pair of blue jeans, gathered my new #2 pencils and notebook and boarded the school bus, there was still a bit of that old back-to-school angst as I stepped into this school. This school has been for certification to administer a personality inventory.

A couple of years ago I mentioned to my Amazing-Missus that I thought maybe I was going through Mid-Life Crisis. She said, "Don't flatter yourself, you're way past mid-life." She keeps me real.

Well today I learned that, at least to according to the Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung, that Mid-Life is a stage of life and not a particular age. After all age is just a state of mind right?

Satchel Paige

Don't believe it? Then how would you answer this question:

How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?

This is a quote from the great Satchel Paige. As a kid, I loved listening to baseball games on the radio. I am old enough to remember Satchel playing for the Cleveland Indians. He came to the Big Leagues from the Negro Leagues when he was 42, making him the oldest rookie to ever play on a major league team.

Well back to his question. It's a good one right?

As I've tried to explain to people what I'm trying to do with this blog I explain that it is sort of therapy for me as I go through what I've come to call my Second-Coming of Age.

I also learned today that according to Jung, the second coming of age is a healthy life stage of sorts and that in this stage I can focus on some traits I have that have always been there but sort of in the background. Who knows maybe I'll be braver, bolder, more like Hemingway without the desire to beat people up. Maybe I'll be more interesting and less cynical. Maybe I'll be the same old phart, but it's sort of fun to imagine.