absence

This place has been neglected, as I've been spending more of my time online favoring the interaction of facebook rather than the monologue of a blog. The things of note that have happened since I last wrote:

- I had surgery. I kept it rather quiet outside of my family until the surgery was over, and haven't any plans to broadcast what the surgery was. It wasn't cancer and wasn't optional, but that's as far as I'm willing to say.

- I've been serving on a committee for my church that has been tasked with finding the next Senior Pastor, as our previous one had retired. It hasn't been a brief process, and during much of it, I've gone home heartbroken, but it may now be coming to a close. We vote on a candidate this Sunday.

- There isn't a concise way of expressing this next one, only that I've been trying to change a great deal about myself. I've changed my wardrobe, wearing more black, especially dress shirts, wearing slacks rather than jeans, keeping handkerchiefs that I dyed grey and my mother kindly monogrammed for me. I've started listening to more classical music, keeping my truck far cleaner inside and being certain to always have a pen. I've bought a sub-notebook and have started carrying it as my Bible into church. I've started reading more poetry ... Maybe I'm just getting old.

I'll be neglecting this space again for a while, but I'll be back eventually. Thx.

8th December - cliques

What clique(s) do you belong to? Where do you fit in? The topic of cliques came up in a conversation a few minutes ago and I found my own response surprising.

I know my cliques very well.

With a few exceptions, my cliques tend to be those people who act as grateful servants, whether consciously or not. That person who never leaves the shopping cart in an empty space but always takes it back either to the cart return or the front the store - that person could be in my clique. The person who picks up trash that they didn't drop, just because they would rather the world be a little cleaner and nicer - that person could be in my clique. Those are the people I would surround myself with, and hope they find me worthy to join them.

Which sounds pretty good, but I'm not wholly sure that it's true.

21st November - Family

As I sat in my 4Runner, waiting for the right break in the Blade Runner audio book before turning the key from Accessory to Off, my phone rang. The ringtone was Weezer's "Island in the Sun," which is what I've set for the home phone and my wife's cell phone. I reluctantly tapped the SOURCE button on my radio, so it would pause the cd, looking for an auxilliary input. I tend to drown myself in stories, and when my phone rings, interrupting that other world, my first reaction is irritation. Knowing that my wife hadn't earned an ounce or irritability from me, I paused a moment to reorient myself, frame my mood. When I answer her calls, I want to sound - want to be - eager to hear her gentle voice.

I use a bluetooth earbud, and I'm not always clear on when it picks up the call, but I heard a beep, and said, "Hello!" with a measure of joy. Maybe the first syllable dropped off, because when my wife said, "Hello?" it was as if she wasn't sure I'd answered.

"Yeah, hi!"

"I was just on the phone with your mother, and she got a call and switched over. When she came back ... Do you remember Labretta's son?"

Labretta is one of my many cousins. My dad is the youngest of eight kids, and my mom is the fifth of six children. I haven't counted, but I think I have twenty-five to thirty cousins counting both sides. I'm the second youngest cousin on my dad's side and I think the fourth youngest on my mom's. Some of the older cousins are closer to my parents' ages than mine. I only remember meeting Labretta once, when she came out to Arizona from Arkansas to spend Christmas with us. She'd brought her son with her, and I couldn't remember his name. He'd seemed like a nice kid with a troubled heart.

There was a hint, when they came to visit, that they were trying to figure out if they should move out here. I kept out of it, and it was quietly resolved that they would go back. My family doesn't seem to have any black sheep. There isn't anyone, on either side, that we don't speak of anymore. But there are perhaps a few grey sheep. If I weren't as good at keeping my own stumbles relatively quiet, I would be visibly charcoal-esque. I think Labretta has some greyness about her, but I don't know any details.

"I remember him, but can't recall his name," I said.

"They came out for Christmas once," she paused. Her voice had the quivering hint of bad news. I knew what she was struggling to say, something that didn't have a good, gentle way to say it. "He fell from a grain elevator and, and ... died."

I made a noise that might have been "Oh," that withered, like a deflating breath. "I can't for the life of me remember his name."

"Your mom just told me, and it's vanished from my mind," my wife said. I understood and said so. The idea of falling from a grain elevator had a way of dominating the mind over other details, even a name.

After ending the call, I phoned my brother and gave him the news, too. He couldn't remember the young man's name either. About ten minutes after we ended our call, he sent me a text with the name: Brett. Labretta's son Brett. It's practically a pnemonic, but still I had forgotten.

10th November - the unsaid

I used to think she triggered my memories, the she that I don't let myself think about very often. I've realized only recently that it wasn't her, but a behavior of hers that triggered my memories. She touched my back. She caressed my back, and it seems that my back is where my memories have hidden away. Lately, my wife has been caressing my back much more than she ever used to, and I'm remembering things. I'm relieved to know that it's the caresses that release the memories and not the presence of the she who I can't afford to think of. But in my head the note of relief at long last also sounds like an accusation, and I ought not make one.

So there you have it.

3rd November - We got this one...

Tomorrow is election day across the United States, the day when those people who choose to vote will select a new President, and potentially new Representatives and Senators, make decisions on ballot propositions and amendments, so I'm posting this entry as a reminder that you don't have to vote.

I'm not saying that people shouldn't vote, but remember that if you don't want to or especially if it's just not that important, then don't worry about it. There are plenty of us who truly care, and we'll take this one. Moreover, if you opt not to vote, FOR ANY REASON, I promise that I will support your decision. Seriously - open offer - if you are eligible to vote in this election and choose not to, and you ask me to write up a note declaring that you're a better person for not voting, I will extol the virtue of your non-participation in no fewer than 500 words. Or in limerick form, if you'd rather.

Remember, an honest "I don't know" always shows more integrity than pretending to know something your don't.

1st November - My Duty as a Citizen

17th October - WelbyTech

I rarely discuss the nuts and bolts of my work here. Actually, I never discuss the nuts and bolts of my work here. And it's pretty rare that I work with nuts and bolts, come to think of it. My work is something of a cross between Desktop Support and Systems Administrator, but I do it for multiple small to medium sized businesses, and small municipalities.

It's fairly frequent that I get queries from the individuals at the many offices that I visit, regarding what's free, what's safe and what's cool on the web. Increasingly as I interface with other technical service providers, I'm asked about specific techniques and tools that I employ in my duties.

Rather than bring any of that here, I'm creating a web page:

WelbyTech: a sort of techie junk drawer.

At the moment, there's nothing there. But over the next few weeks, I'll start filling in content.