For My Sons . . .

I wish I had done a better job, not because you are somehow lacking or there is something wrong with you, but because I wanted to do the very best I could, and I feel I fell short, in some ways, not all. I tried to achieve the best at everything I could, but we each know there were times when I was far from perfect, and sometimes I did not respond correctly to situations that were less significant than I might have thought.

By falling short of my own expectations, I failed to exercise the best, or most appropriate, parenting skills, no matter how much I wanted to do so. We are all prone to err, and I certainly proved how “human” I am, by erring more than I cared to, more frequently than I thought I would. I started on this adventure, raising and teaching my sons the intricacies of life, with all the enthusiasm any parent feels.

Like any other parent, I wanted to do my best, to avoid the mistakes my own parents had made and do a much better job of what has to be the most difficult and most fun task any human ever takes on. I know I did not do a “bad” job, because you have both grown into fine young men, intelligent and capable, mannered and considerate, most of the time, and the absolute joy of my life. Nothing else I have ever done compares to the happiness I feel, being your father.

I understand at last, what my own father told me, about being dissatisfied with most of the world, and having children, that he could educate and guide to be type of person he would prefer there were more of in the world. Sort of an attempt to improve the world one person at a time. It took me a while to understand it, but once I looked into your faces, at the moment you came into the world, I understood fully, without any doubt or equivocation.

I accepted the responsibility of being your father, as my duty, a duty both pleasant and exciting, even as much as it was demanding and stressful. I never looked back, or regretted for a moment this new obligation. I was happy and felt fulfilled, in a way I couldn’t explain beyond the fact I was a “father”.

Suddenly, I knew everything I had “thought” about how to raise children was going to meet the test of reality. Did it ever! I had to learn, and unlearn, a lot of different things, some in only a few minutes, some over time. I tried to do my best, and keep those “ideas”, the things about raising kids I had believed so very important, on hand, and use them as situations arose, where they would be appropriate. I

t’s kind of like the old skit on TV, where a guy would have a bunch of plates spinning, and he would add new plates, set them spinning and keep the others going, too. Sometimes I felt like I was that guy, trying to keep a zillion plates spinning, without letting one stop and fall to the floor, to break. It was at times like that, when I would do some stupid things, not thinking clearly, because I was focusing on all the plates I had spinning.

I don’t mean to make excuses for my errors, only try to put them into perspective, so you don’t think I just blew it. I did do that, too, at times; I might have been tired, or angry with someone else, or any of a thousand reasons (excuses) for why I was not responding in the correct manner, at the appropriate time. Those times were my “human” periods, some more human than others, no doubt.

I wish I could go back to some of them, and redo what I should have done at the time, but “do-over’s” are not part of our reality. You get your chance and you do your best, and you are judged for how well everything turned out, in the end. I am sorry, truly sorry, for the things I did poorly, for the times I wasn’t the best dad I could be, for those times I let you down. If there was a way to go back, I would already be gone, to do over what I didn’t do right. Sadly, that isn’t the way things work and we all have to live with the reality of what actually happened, good, bad or indifferent.

I want you to know I always tried to do my best, I always accepted that I was responsible, but I didn’t always succeed. Sometimes, I was as “bad” a dad, as my own father was, something I now realize I have in common with him, as you may one day have in common with me and your own children. I suppose it is an inescapable reality all humans share, at the very core of who we are, each of us. There are those who fail miserably at being parents, some who fail at being human, on any level, who do despicable things to their children.

I do not include them in any way; only those who are concerned and make the effort to be a decent and caring parent are included in the group I refer to, when I say, we all try and fail in some way, but in trying and failing, the human race moves on, adjusts to the constant changes time imposes on us, as we make our way through the years, from infant to adult, from child to parent, a journey repeated over and again, down through the years, from our ancestors to your children, and theirs.

I wish you well on your own journey, you carry my hopes and my prayers for a safe and happy journey, one that takes you where you want to go, takes you as far as you want, and gives you all the happiness your heart desires. However well I fulfilled my role as father, you will go on and at some point, have the opportunity to outdo me, to do a better job, as I tried to do better than my father, and he certainly tried to do better than his.

I wish you well, I wish you the wisdom of Solomon as you attempt to settle disputes and devise the best path to teach your children all they must know to survive and prosper in this world, in whatever condition it may be, at the time. I know you will do well, because in you is a seed I planted, that came from my father, and that you will pass on to your own children, the best of we have passed this way, to those who come next.

I love you and treasure the times we have spent with one another, as I know you will love your own. Go with God, and trust your instincts, for you know who you are, inside. You know where you are going, even when you have no idea where you are. Look inside and aim your steps in the direction of what you want. Nothing can keep you from achieving your goal, without your participation, so always be your own best cheerleader, always believe in yourself.

Keep to the right path, do not take shortcuts that will end you in places you do not want to be, and remember always, “Misery loves company”, so misery will do its best to get you to go along. You know better, and you are not swayed by the voices of mediocrity, who would keep you down, when you can have what you want.

Remember always, the words I taught you, from the earliest times, “I am, I can, Ido, I do the best I can, every chance I get.” I have repeated these words to you, so they are etched in your memory. All you need do is call one them, and believe in yourself, and you will be able to make your world what you want it to be.

The tangled mess we call justice

"Everybody lies!" a court worker told me once, when I had a problem with a former client, who came to court armed with a laundry list of unreasonable complaints, mistruths and outright lies. I had complained that the person was telling bald-faced lies that stretched the boundaries of belief. The court-appointed arbitrator told me they assumed "Everyone lies" and made their determinations accordingly. I knew this from my own experiences when my former wife filed for divorce and hammered me with the assistance of her attorney, with a long list of complaints, mistakes and, yes, lies. She had disappeared with our kids, all the money in every bank account, and everything from the house that wasn't actually bolted down (and some that were). I was in shock and hardly able to respond, especially to the more egregious lies, and I was far more concerned about the welfare of my children than anything else.

The judge granted her requests, one after the other, except for the one about restricting me to "supervised" contact with the kids. There was no evidence of any problems other than her desire to "do her own thing" regardless of any effect on them, but California is a "no-fault" state and anyone can get a divorce for any reason, and the other party does not have to agree; they have no say in it at all, in fact.

The irony of the entire mess, after all was said and done, was that she became involved (may have been almost from the start, as it turns out) with a real animal, a registered sex offender (PC 270, against children), a suspected murderer (the ONLY suspect), subjecting the children and me to a 5+ year nightmare, during which he threatened to kill me (she said he "only wanted to fight you"--a violation of his parole) and she was barred from contact with the kids without supervision (she complied with this by not seeing the kids for nearly 6 months).

During the period of her involvement with this animal, we had to return to court numerous times, because she would not abide by the rules. Each time, she came dressed to the nines, short skirts, low-cut tops, unbuttoned, etc. One judge (a "commissioner") ate it up and treated me like I was the miscreant, not her. He had done that all day, with one woman after another, leering at them from the bench, to the obvious discomfort of the court personnel.

Another judge seemed to buy her story whole-cloth, until I kept standing my ground and insisting he consult with Family Court Services. He even told me at one point, "Family Court Services job is to make recommendations, mine is to make rulings!" I could see her smirking as he looked at me to say this, but when he looked back to her, she wiped the look off her face, and gave him a sweet smile. I responded that it was important and I felt sure if he would, he would understand the problem better. Finally, when I mentioned we had been going back and forth with this same problem, her not following the court's instructions, and treating my concerns as if they were just to "get back at her" he left the bench to see the FCS agent.

When he came back, nearly twenty minutes later, he walked straight to the bench, sat down and began a lengthy lecture to her, beginning, "Young lady, it seems a lot of people are telling you the same thing, and you don't seem to be listening at all. . ." I was stunned, because this was the first time any judge had actually spoken to her of the consequences if she were to be returned to court on the same issue. We didn't have any further problems, and after she had a child with the guy who was the real problem, suddenly she didn't want him around her at all, and took off in the dead of night.

It's a difficult job to pick out the truth when "Everybody lies!" It's a job I wouldn't care to have, personally, and the relatively brief period I was subjected to the process was more than enough for me. However, the people who work at the court have to go through this, day after day, month after month, year after year, a sad litany of the troubles people can get themselves wrapped up in, without regard for who it hurts, or what the consequences might be.

If the court acted harshly with everyone, the outcry would be just as strident as it is, for this judge to have erred on the side of compassion for the father, however misguided it may have been. Both sides are at fault, as is the legal profession itself, whose philosophy seems to be throw everything at the other side, because "some of it will stick!" All the lawyers care about, for the most part, is collecting the fees, with as little time spent doing it as possible. With that kind of thinking, is it any surprise someone might come out thinking they haven't a chance?

I cannot condone anyone harming a child, for any reason, especially to "get back" at the other parent, but there were probably other issues at work, of which the rest of us will never know. The mother has another child, by a different father, something now common, but unheard of as recently as 40 years ago.

Our values have slipped, some say disappeared, but today, people get divorced as the first option, not the last. It takes a lot of effort to stay married, work each partner has to invest. It takes a couple thousand dollars and a fistful of lies to get divorced, even if the other party is only guilty of working too hard. Perhaps, if people waited to have children, until they are sure this is the person they want to spend a lifetime with, and then married that person, with the intention of staying married, then maybe they would put the effort into making sure that person was someone they really wanted to be with, who had the values they wanted in a partner.

I know, what an "old-fashioned" viewpoint. It worked for my parents, married 61 years, before my dad died, last year. It still works, but it is WORK. There is NO shortcut, and the courts are ONLY human, staffed NOT by Solomon, but by ordinary human beings, like you or me. It is too much to expect them to get EVERY ruling, exactly right, when "Everybody lies!"

Some are also giants

A___M A N___N A M E D___M I C H A E L 

A man departed this mortal coil a few days ago, a man of many descriptions, many qualities, a well-faceted man, although that description might have baffled him, for he was also a plain and simple man. He was a husband, a father and a grandfather, and a friend. He greeted me warmly, and sincerely, welcoming me into his family, as his “dog-face buddy”, an honor hard to describe, but tremendous in its acceptance, in its warmth and meaning. As the wit once said, “There are no atheists in foxholes,” a phrase easy to comprehend, for those who have stood at the edge of the abyss and looked downward. There are no cowards in foxholes either, no false friends, no back-stabbers, no whackos or sickos. No sir, in the foxholes of any battlefield are found only those who have had to come to terms with the tenuous hold we have on life and the fact that it might very easily be snatched from our grasp at any future moment. This does not mean that every person in a foxhole is a hero, an Audie Murphy or Rambo, defying death as he heroically deals it out. In truth, most of the “heroes” of any battle were those who simply followed orders and did their best, accepting whatever fate handed them, usually scared stiff, but unwilling to let fear rule them. When called upon, the average man can rise to meet almost any challenge, and frequently does. By acknowledging my own service in VietNam as equal to his own in the fields of France and Germany, Michael Springer saluted me, another “dogface”, from a different war. That gesture went a long, long way to undo the way I felt about how I had been treated when I returned from that benighted place. These days it is de rigeur for people, frequently absolute strangers, to volubly “thank” those returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, these days, for their “service”, a far cry from the silence that had greeted me, and those of my friends who did return from the killing fields of Southeast Asia. I only heard of GI’s being called “baby killers” on TV, and any fool stupid enough to actually spit on any one of us was in certain danger of learning what a “killing machine” the US Army had really made of us. Nevertheless, there was no confetti-strewn parades for us, no “thank you for your service”, no warm regards for our futures. When Mike shook my hand and whispered those words, he made me feel as if I had finally come home, as if a weight had lifted away, and the hypocrisy of an earlier age were as insignificant and unimportant as I had always thought, but couldn’t quite convince myself of believing. That was Mikes “style”, as it turned out, to set others at ease, to offer a hand or a smile, where needed. I am certain he had his flaws, as do we all, but he had the lesser variety of the ills that afflict most of humanity. He aspired to work hard and do his best, to pay his bills and love those who mattered to him, simple pleasures for an uncomplicated man. It’s too bad there aren’t a lot more like him; the world might not be in the sad shape it is, were there a majority with his failings, instead of the millions of greedy, self-centered sorts we have to cope with, or even those like me, who think they know what is wrong with everyone else, and are blind to their own, my own, failings. Mike shared many of my own jaundiced views of those who aspire to political office, expecting them to be working for us, not for their own personal benefit, as they do, to a man, and a woman, unfortunately. We agreed on the shortcomings of those in power, the meaningless chatter they thought of as “powerful rhetoric”, the cupidity of campaign promises used only to further the career of career politicians. Although I only knew him for a matter of 3 years, and saw him in person for less than two weeks, on two trips back to his home in Detroit, Michael Springer left a powerful impression on my life, one that will last the rest of mine. Real “heroes” are like that, they affect the world around them far more than they are affected. It is one of the ways we can recognize them, usually after they have left this “vale of tears”, as my sainted grandmother called our passage across time, on the Earth. What follows is my goodbye to this hero, Sgt Michael Springer, US Army, 1942--1946.

E L E G Y F O R A D O G - F A C E B U D D Y Some men are giants, regardless of their physical size or the money they have amassed. Some touch the lives of those who pass by, leaving a memory to last long after the initial contact. These are the men who make the world a better place, simply by their being here, to show the rest of us how it should be done. Mike honored me by accepting me into the cadre of those he loved best, into his family, and into the group of his “dogface buddies”. While the sound of that honor may not seem like much, to me it was a badge of acceptance and camaraderie to be worn with honor. By these few words, he reached out and touched that part of me long since hidden from the rest of the world. He touched the part of my heart that had been shut down, closed off and boarded up. What he experienced in his war was certainly different from what I went through in my own, but we were alike in ways unknown to all others. Only those who have spent a lonely night in a foxhole in some backwater part of the world can ever know the what all “dogfaces” have known, over the years; the reliance one must have in one’s friends, by placing your life in their hands, as they place theirs in yours, we become brethren in a way stronger than mere familial ties. I think he knew and felt this above all, that we might not have fought the most important battle, but by being there it became as important as any battle, anywhere. I know he served honorably, demonstrating the courage required by the times. He did his duty and came home, to take up the duties of peace time. In that, he did just as he had done in wartime--he did his duty to the best of his ability. Like so many before, and after, he understood the duties of a man and a father. He took his responsibilities in stride, always doing his best and keeping his faith. These are the same qualities that made being his “dogface buddy” an honor, for it is such things men do that make them special, that make them “heroes”, doing what needs to be done, regardless of danger or difficulty, without excuses. To do less would have been as unlike him as would have been for him to run in the face of the enemy--something he would not have done, for any reason. It doesn’t take knowing someone for a long time to know the basics of their character; some cannot be trusted, some will never let you down. Mike was a stellar member of the latter group, a man to “ride the river” with, a man to carry his share of the load and not complain, a man who would stand by his friends and stand up to any bully, an American, a “hero”, a “dad”, a loving husband and a very good man. I will miss him, for the rest of my own life… Bruce

The dream plays on. . .

Two Hearts Beating

When you’re not there, it seems as if the air is thinner
The space between objects emptier, as if there is
Only more space, less to do in so much more time.
As days stroll slowly by, too long and so very lonely
Shadows are my only company, I travel from place
To place, looking for clues to remind me of your face,
Your lips, your arms around me, I wear you in my heart,
In every beat, with each breath, I feel you deep inside,
A warm breeze carrying your scent makes me smile,
I know your kisses aren’t far behind, your smile lighting
My heart like a Roman candle aburst on the Fourth of July.
I have never felt these feelings before, always wondering
What it was to be in love, truly and fully, with the one
Special person, the one whose heart beats with mine,
Who makes my blood race at the sound of her name,
The one I desire to deserve, in every sense, without fail.
I dream of you, in the night, and daydream in the light
Of day, thinking what of things to do, what can I offer
To repay the wonderful gift you have given to me
Words do not do justice to the feelings, the great sense
of comfort and pleasure holding you in my arms, tonight.
Now and then I wonder, will this last , if not forever, there,
As long as I have left to love you the way I do, fully and
Completely, lost in the warmth of a love like no other,
As the years pass by, memories of the times we shared
Grow, and multiply, the times we talked and shared,
The road trip with your best friend back to Detroit, and
Back again, driving the roads I rambled up and down
So many times in my childhood, wondering then when
I would find you, and where, wondering and dreaming.
I treasure these memories, like pieces of gold and silver,
Jewels more precious to me than diamonds and rubies.
So, I wonder, half in fear, and half in suspense,
Are we going to beat the odds, to make our story last
Longer than the rest of the crowd, long enough to make
A lifetime of memories that bring a smile, or a tear.
As we look back years from now, grey in our hair,
But still fire in our lovemaking, enough that we lay
Amid sheetstwisted and sweaty, until a laugh starts
With one and carries to the other, remembering how we
Were, when younger, when we didn’t know the ways
To drive each other wild, to make life so content.
Love is a work in progress, something that takes a lifetime
To get right, to learn the nuances of a lover’s body, as
It awakens to your touch, coming more alive, arching
In response to that touch, this kiss, my heart leaps,
Wanting more, until my breathing returns to normal,
An unexpected cascade erupts, running down my cheeks,
You kiss away each of my tears, as I hold you tighter,
The emotions caught me by surprise, a lifetime dammed
Away, never letting anyone close, washed away in an instant,
Our fingers meld together, arms entwined, I can’t tell
Where you begin, and I leave off, seamless hearts joined
By love united, one life to live together, one heart beating
As two, who would have thought so different could be
So much in love, so in tune each with the other,
One begins the sentence the other one then completes
Surely time will not dispel this magic, never fade the
Feelings we share together and apart, these magic moments.

Once Again, With Feeling

We have been here before

For one breathless instant, 

      The world hung in the balance,

Then, shrugging its shoulders,

      Looked off and walked away,

Already intent on resuming

      Its all too wicked ways, while

Offering up a well-meaning

      Excuse for why things always

Have to be as they ever were

      From time immemorial until

The very end of time, in some

      Dusty, dingy future too grim

To be the product of a fevered

      Imagination, too real to be less

Than the reality we create,

      Lacking a belief in possibilities.

The Long Way Around

Back Roads, Ghost Towns

 

I miss the wide open spaces

The places between here and there

On the road again to find out

Where the white line leads.

 

Let me follow the back roads

Once more, thru small towns

Drifting along at a much slower speed,

With no particular place to go or be.

 

Blown by a wayward wind, tumbling

Across the desert to places long

Forgotten, slipping away to a past

That no one remembers any more.

 

Lingering over onemore cup of coffee,

In a roadside café, watching the local

Traffic move slowly by, unbothered

By the pressures of the modern world.

 

The places I love best are the ones

Hardest to get to, well off the beaten

Track, visited only by those others like

Me, those who love a fast fading world.

 

When I join history’s parade, marching

Off the way of all things, raise a glass

To me, in some local bar, with all those

Wh happen to be in town that night.

 

I miss the wide open spaces, fenced

Off now and bypassed by the interstate,

Lonely, dusty towns and scenic spots,

That once made America wonderful.

The Eternal Quest

Searching for Meaning

 

What will I leave, when I stagger off this mortal coil?

Only a fleeting memory, my slate too quickly wiped clean,

Forgotten among the uncountable numbers who have passed

This way before and after, merely a cipher lost in a number,

Immeasurable and incomprehensible, one more lost sheep

In a herd of such vast size, I am only one among the many.

 

Like so many others, I will leave behind no lasting mark

On History, no great works that recall my name clearly

To generations of oncoming students and scholars seeking

To understand my reasons or the inspirations that drove

Me to stand out in the crowd; alas, will all I have ever done

Result in nothing more than a few scattered recollections?

 

One day, the world will turn without me, continuing on its course

As if I had never been, the sun still shining merrily in the sky,

The wind whistling through the cracks I once peered curiously

Into, seeking answers or amusements to suit my own mind’s pleasure,

Following the path my footsteps had long, long ago set me on,

A path that lead me hither and yon, until I reached this place.

 

Now I have set in motion two lives that will carry on from here,

Taking from me what they have absorbed, knowingly, as well as

That which the mystery of life has decided for them to take,

As they each make their own way, along their own paths, until

Some future time when they pass the mantle on to some new

Charges, to carry on who we were, into what will inevitably be.

 

Standing along side the great mother-road of life, from babies

To geezers, I look back at those who brought me here, and peer

Blindly ahead at where our vein of humanity will go from here,

Wondering at the meaning of it all, posing the great questions

We all ponder, no doubt futilely, as the world blithely continues on,

Spinning madly around the sun, ticking off the moments of eternity.