Words I Think I Wrote

The more I read, the more I read ideas I think I thought, or I think I read.

Words get their power from being strung together with other words. By themselves, a word is a word. Some inspire emotions on their own. Here's one that comes to mind: Orphan. Unless you invented the word, (three-peat), anyone can use the stand alone words for free. Start stringing them together exactly or reasonably exactly and Hilary will take you to task. Someone else monitors musical notes--probably Tipper.


Robert Fulgham wrote a book I thoroughly enjoyed: Words I Wish I Wrote.Even the title is art. Aaron, a fan of well written verses, and I shared that book. Our copy may be in the library at Mount Bachelor Academy, outside of Prineville, OR. If you ever get there, see if it's on the shelf. I'd like to get that book back.

A couple of the words Mr. Fulgham wrote he wished he had wrote:

Sometimes it rains on the just. Sometimes it rains on the unjust. Sometimes it just rains. (I don't remember who he credited with that one)

In the midst of winter, I found there was within me, an invincible summer. (Camus)

There was something in there about suicide. I don't remember the words exactly but Aaron and I had a good laugh over the wisdom suggested. It went something like: Suicide is one thing that can always be put off to tomorrow. I probably don't have all of the words and/or the order isn't exactly right, but you can find it int he book.

Now the only reason I bring up that quote is because of a conversation I was involved in one morning. People I know were sharing their thoughts on the topic as it pertained to people they knew. As I was listening, my mind was clicking through the archives of my memory. Somewhere in there was stored the words Fulgham wished he wrote. I wandered around the vault for a while and thought about the terrible emotions the word "suicide" triggers. Another word with a shady reputation is "procrastination". Suicide has redeeming value as an act of evil doers, Hitler for one. Procrastination has it’s place in the sun too. I mixed and juggled some words to see if they might fit. Here is an idea in words I think I wrote:

Procrastination has its redemption as a character trait of one who contemplates suicide.

C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed ....by an Artist

Maybe more than two weeks have passed since I cried even a tear. I don't keep track, but it's been the better part of February. The last time was a good cry. Anguish.

Grief is not lineal. The journey is circular. C.S Lewis concluded the same and shared his observation in his 1961 book, A Grief Observed. I read his book this week. A very short four chapter journal of emotions, Mr. Lewis wrote his observations from the path trudged by humans forever.

Some people appreciate paintings. I love writings by people who make writing an art. I'm fond of the simple verse. They are deep and filled with power. The sentences of a man with an artistic pen speaks for us who write with crayons.

C.S Lewis--
Writing about grief anger: I was getting from it the only pleasure a man in anguish can get; the pleasure of hitting back.

What grief is like and how it compares to pain: Grief is lik a bomber circling round and dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead; physical pain is like the barrage on a trench in World War One, hours of it with no let-up for a moment. Thought is never static; pain often is.

On selfish wishes for the deceased: Could I have wished her anything worse? Having got once through death, to come back and then, at some later date, have all her dying to do over again? They call Stephen the first martyr. Hadn't Lazarus the rawer deal?

These and more observations in his book I felt and contemplated over the last 2 1/2 years. Not in as articulate manner, but I stayed within the lines with my Crayola; especially the Lazarus comment. Definitely, Lazarus and his loved ones may have been the most abused by death and living.

There is a way out of Suffering and Into Peace

When there is no way out, there is always a way through.

Those aren't my words but I attest to the truth. I am a blessed man.

Patrick and Amanda gave me a ten dollar book store gift card for Christmas. I put it somewhere safe. I forgot where that place was. The gift stayed there until it was found by Cathy on Super Bowl Sunday. That gift changed my life.

Super Bowl Sunday was supposed to be spent with the Packers. Things changed. I chose not to participate in a Packer-less game day. Cathy and I went to see a movie. I picked the movie: my favorite actress, Diane Lane in Untraceable. Thirty minutes in and we agreed the film was disturbing. We walked out. We went to the book store.

I had been in and out of all the Borders, Barne's and Noble, Half-Price Books in Madison since Christmas and couldn't find a book cover I could judge appealing. But that Sunday was different. Walking in the door I saw a paper back with no "O" Club sticker, so I picked it up. The Power of Now, A guide to spiritual enlightenment.

God did not give me a great ability to explain in great clarity what it is I read. I'm grateful for that withholding of talent. I can learn by living. I can't live by telling, but I can say that I now know Aaron's true self never died. Only form and thoughts die. Aaron is free. His divine presence is here as it has always been. Living in the past and in the future I resisted the Now. I know the past. The past is comfortable. I imagine the future. Through my perception of the past, I form an image of the future. Time is an illusion. Living in the past and future, resisting the Now is insanity.

Enlightenment is the end of suffering according to Buddha. The way out of suffering is through the fire according to the Burned Thigh Lakota Tribe.

I miss my son Aaron as I knew his outer self. I am experiencing his true self as it always is. Knowing that what is can't be undone, I accept what is not and say yes to what is. Nonresistence to the pain. Surrendered to the grief.

February 16, 2008

Dog n Suds Coney Dogs and Society

The first entries of this blog were made in spring of '05. Those prior to May 8, 05 were written as if I thought people would be reading. From 5/8/05 I wrote without caring if anyone was reading. Sometimes the writting was for safe keeping of thoughts, others for getting emotions out into the light. This one is to share somethings that are good.

My favorite junk food of my youth is the Dog n Suds Coney Dog. A hot dog in a soft, fresh bun, with a sweet, non-chili sauce sauce. Sometime in the mid-seventies, when the country was early in the process of removing all that is good, Dog n Suds went the way of the Woolworth's and their french fries and chocolate malts. Nobody likes SPAM the food and it has it's own web site. Why can't the Coney Dog have a place on the grocery shelf too?

Saturday I did a little research and found a recipe which when modified a bit, might be the proper mixture. The taste is remarkable. So much so that I think I was momentarily transported to 1969 Antigo, WI sitting in the back seat of our family car, where a tray loaded with glass mugs and plastic baskets of fries in white crunchy paper, hung on the half rolled down window next to my Dad. Surely a summer Saturday evening.

If your taste buds can evoke memories as mine do, here's the way to make your window to the past.

Recipe, Dog n Suds Coney Dog:
1 lb Lean ground beef
4 tablespoons Yellow mustard
1/3 Cup Baker's sugar
1/2 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
1 large sweet onion, chopped fine
2 tablespoons brown vinegar
3 tablespoon water
1/2 teaspoon celery seeds
24-30 oz of Heinz ketchup

Brown the burger chopping it in the pan so it doesn't clump. Keep the pieces of burger fine.
Drain the fat.
Add all ingredients except Ketchup and Onion.
Stir in ketchup.
Stir in onion last.

Use the mustard bring the color from red to orange.
Simmer for 1 hour.

Boil, not Microwave (we didn't have microwaves in 1969) Oscar Mayer All Beef hot dogs. Don't wimp out and use the skinny dogs.

Place the hot dog in a VERY soft hot dog bun Don't go cheap here. Get the fresh, soft buns.
Spoon the Coney Sauce over the dog. Put enough on so that it runs over the top and out the other end. With the right amount, your fingers and corners of your mouth should get an orange stain.

When I was a kid, my Dad would let me eat two coney dogs. When I was riding my bike to Dog n Suds and had a couple of dollars, four Coney Dogs and a root beer was my regular order. Last night I ate four because I liked the trip back.

My sister Carol estimated the calories and fat grams, commenting on my Saturday night indulgence asked "What music do you want played at your funeral?"

I choose Society by Eddie Vedder. Then serve Coney Dogs, fries, and strawberry shakes.

Eddie Vedder sings Society from the Into The Wild Soundtrack.