Tag Archives: life

My Offspring is Off-Springing

I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on here.  I’ve written a few things here and there but haven’t posted any of them.  I’ve come up with a plethora of ideas in my head of what I think would look good on Story of My Life, but haven’t taken the time to jot them down.  I’ve been lazy.  But I’ll get into that in a later post.  Today I have other news.

Late last year my son and his wife announced that they are expecting their first child.  The newest edition to our family will arrive in July.  Hey y’all, my offspring is off-springing!!  I am so very excited.  And it’s about time!  Most of my friends from high school have been grandparents for years now.  I’m 54 and becoming a first-time grandpa.  On a side note of sorts, my mother’s mother was 39 when I was born and made her a first-time grandparent.  When I was young, I thought my grandparents were old.  My grandchild will think I’m ancient!  LOL.  Or maybe I just feel ancient.

As I look forward to meeting my grandson in a few months I’m reminded of all the advice I received when I was becoming a dad.  And the very best advice I received during that time was from my dad, who I think was a very good and wise parent.  He said, “Take all the advice you get from everyone and throw it out the window.  Do what you know is right and everything will work out fine.  You got this.”

This was the perfect advice and I am passing it on to my son and his wife. This post is written to my son and his wife.  Don’t confuse this advice with not hearing what others have to say who have experience and might know a thing or two.  But instead, learn what is right as you go through parenthood.  Do what you feel is right, coupled with what you want to use from others.  None of us have all the answers about being a parent.  Only you will know in your heart what is right for your little family.  It will come to you, I promise.  It’s all a learning experience.  Take it all in and figure out what is best.  I interpret my dad’s advice to mean this: Don’t feel obligated by someone’s advice if you feel differently. 

That’s my advice.  Well, my dad’s advice.  And I did well with it.

But there’s plenty of other important things to share as well.  Consider this part more like storytelling and if you find something here you want to use as advice, take it.  Or, if you find something in the storytelling that didn’t work, you can learn from that as well.  I have often told my less flattering stories to my children in hopes they learn from my faults and save themselves some troubles.  But kids don’t listen.  You’ll learn that soon enough.  LOL!!

First of all, you will become a parent with very little experience.  Sure, you may have babysat, watched after siblings, volunteered in the nursery at church- but nothing will fully prepare you for having your own baby, a new life that completely depends on you.  The first time I ever changed a diaper was on my first child.  And I hadn’t studied how to do it and I had never done it before.  I was thrown into it.  The nurse said, “Dad, do you want to change her diaper?”  Turns out, it wasn’t that hard.  I figured it out on my first try! Too easy. But everything after that first diaper was a new, deeper challenge.  Changing a diaper was the very first step in a long road for me in learning how to be a parent.  Oh, the number of diapers I changed.  How can something so small and precious create a smell that could peel paint off the wall?  Get ready.

How do you know when to take the baby to the emergency room or wait it out?  How do you know when to let the baby “cry it out” when they are being fussy or when to coddle them?  How do you know when to start potty training?  How do you know when to let your child walk to school alone?  How do you know when to do this or that or whatever?  Here’s the catch.  You don’t know yet.  Sometimes you don’t know the right answer until you’ve already made a decision and see how it plays out.  You have to learn it all one first diaper at a time.  And you will make mistakes.  You will second-guess yourself sometimes.  But you will adjust as you learn.  And once you think you have something figured out, the baby changes it.  Which means that every once in a while you will go back and forth about something until you make a decision just to be done with it.  And that’s ok, too. Sometimes all you can do is flip a coin.  Just keep learning.  And to be honest, a lot of questions will answer themselves as the baby grows and you learn.  And after a while, you’ll have it all figured out.  But like I alluded to, the baby can sense that you figured it out and will change everything, creating new challenges.  It’s what they do.

Along with the excitement, fear, joy, and love that comes with becoming a parent, you will also get a dose of perpetual tiredness.  All my kids are now grown adults, taking on the world, and I’m still tired from when they were little.  This feeling of exhaustion…  just get used to it.  There will be late nights, early mornings, and everything in between.  You’ll have your hands full with the little one.  But you’ll still have to clean the house, take care of the dog, mow the yard, go grocery shopping, pay the bills, cook dinner… oh yeah, and don’t forget about going to work.  No matter how tired you feel, it is all worth it.  I have fond memories of falling asleep in a recliner with my children snuggled in my arms.  Best sleep ever!

Kids are very resilient growing up.  Yes, they are fragile, but you can’t keep them in a bubble.  They will get bumps, bruises, cuts, and scratches.  Of my six kids, we survived at least two broken bones, a golf club to the face, a tumble off of a piano with teeth puncturing the lip, a fall out of a tree, a pencil broken off into the heel of a foot, rolling off a bed on to hardwood flooring, slipping in the bathroom and bouncing a head off the tile which was bloody and gruesome.  This is a very small sample of what my kids survived and doesn’t even include the sports bumps and bruises they all had.  And even if I were to hover over each of my kids every minute of every day, very few of these injuries could have been avoided.  Kids are adventurous as they grow and learn, and sometimes those adventures will leave a mark. 

I believe my dad did a great job.  As I look back on my childhood, I don’t think I could have asked for a better father.  Even so, when I became a dad, I had a mental list of things I was going to do differently, things I didn’t like from when I was a kid.  However, as I “grew up” as a parent I realized my list of things my dad did well and did right was much longer than the list of things I wanted to change in my journey as a parent.  Maybe some of it was me understanding that parenting is a challenge, something we can not fully comprehend until we become a parent.  So, I hope your list eventually gets longer on the side of “Oh, dad was right, I get it now.”  There are plenty of things I could have done better.  If you want that list, let me know.  And that’s one of the funny things about learning as a first time parent, you can’t usually know how things will turn out until later.  But I’m very happy and proud of how my kids turned out, so maybe I did a few more things right than I thought I did.  Here’s the bottom line.  Do your parenting out of love and what’s best for the child.  And even then, not all of your decisions will be perfect.  And that’s perfectly fine. 

This new chapter of your life is going to be the best rollercoaster ride you could ever be on.  My Son, I loved watching you grow up as a child into a teen and then into an adult.  Now I get to watch you grow as a dad and I couldn’t be more proud.  And always keep this in mind, “Do what you know is right and everything will work out fine.  You got this.”  Y’all got this!

I love y’all.  The two of you will be great parents.  God bless!

Dad

Papillon

When I was a young boy, back in the late ‘70s, I would sometimes get to stay up late and watch television with my grandfather.  I was seven or eight years old, so staying up late for me might not have been as late as I’ve pictured it in my mind all these years.  The two-car garage had been converted to a den many years before.  It was large room with a couch, two recliners, an antique rocking chair, liquor cabinet, and a safe hidden in the wall above the two recliners.  The safe had a picture frame cover, but to my knowledge, never had a picture in it.  I have some wonderful memories from my childhood of that house, specifically that room. 

We watched many episodes of Baa Baa Black Sheep, sports, news, and sometimes he’d give up his rights to the television and we’d watch Wonderful World of Disney.  Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom was always a favorite.  But one movie we stayed up late to watch one night that has been stuck in my head for more than 40 years was Papillon.  Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman, 1973.  Maybe because it was supposedly based on a true story and, as a child, I found that fascinating.  A true story of a French prison and how the convicted survived and one eventually escaped to write about it.  For whatever reason, I loved that movie.  I don’t think I’ve seen it since I was eight or nine years old. 

Grandpa would sit in his recliner smoking a pipe or cigar.  I would be laid out on the couch, often times falling asleep during our TV time.  I remember grandma occasionally sitting in her recliner crocheting.  I don’t remember if she was interested in what we were watching, unless it was basketball.  She was a huge basketball fan.  She played in her younger years, I heard she was very good. 

The reason for this flood of childhood memories is that I recently found Papillon in the free On-demand section of my cable subscription.  Just seeing the title brought back details of my grandparent’s den.  The lighting, the smell of pipe tobacco, the texture of the carpet, the sliding glass door that lead to the driveway, the utility room where the washer and dryer sat, the rear door which exited to the back patio and wonderful back yard.  And of course, the shows we used to watch.  I wonder where the old rocking chair is.  I would have loved to have that. 

I made some pizza rolls and opened a beer.  Then I started the movie.  Some of what I remember from it 40+ years ago was exactly correct.  But that wasn’t very much.  I only remembered parts of a few of the scenes.  Watching it again brought a whole new appreciation for an absolutely spectacular movie.  McQueen and Hoffman were incredible.  They made their characters seem real, believable.  No special effects, no computer-generated imaging.  Just great actors perfecting their craft; something that has been lost in film today. 

In watching Papillon in present day, I am certain the movie was edited for television when I watched it with grandpa way back when. 

One of the scenes I remember visually, I had no recollection of the context because I couldn’t remember what was said.  It was a dream sequence where Papillon (McQueen) walks towards his judge.  The judge was flanked on each side by six men wearing black.  In their exchange, Papillon continues to claim he was framed for his accused crime of murder.  The judge admits that to be true, but adds that he is in fact guilty of a far worse crime, the worst crime any human can commit. Papillon asks what that could be.  The judge says, “I accuse you of a wasted life!”  Papillon agrees, hangs his head, then walks away.

I would have been too young to understand the context of that conversation at the time, perhaps that’s why I don’t remember it.  But now, nearing 50 years old, that spoke to me as I watched again.  I know I’ve wasted time.  I’ve wasted money.  I’ve wasted food, words, energy, and so much more if I am completely honest examining my past.  But one thing I am certain of, I can never be accused of a wasted life.  There are many things I should have done differently in my life.  There are things I regret, both things I did and things I didn’t do.  But as I look back and see where I am today, what I’ve survived, what I’ve overcome, I say confidently, that mine is not a wasted life. 

Only you can examine your life and decide if you wasted it.  Only you know exactly what you’ve been through and how you got to where you are currently.  Your mistakes do not define you.  At some point you move on from them and, if necessary, start over.  Some of my mistakes consumed me to the point of feeling like a failure, like a complete waste.  There were multiple occasions in my life I would have hung my head and walked away as Papillon did.  Not anymore. 

Life goes on.  And life is good.  And I’m not wasting it.  I hope you don’t either.  Thanks for stopping by today.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

I Miss the Old Me

It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted to my blog. Almost a year and a half now. I’m not sure where the time went. I know that when I paused my writing, it was only supposed to be a short pause. The first month or two was just to take a break from writing. Maybe a time to refresh my mind, think of new topics, or expand my creativity. By the third month of not writing my brain was nagging me about it. Friends that followed my blog were asking if I were still writing and if I were ok. Then somewhere around six months without posting, it simply became easy to ignore it and not write. I miss writing.

But missing writing isn’t what this post is about. First, let me catch you up on the last 17 months. The divorce went final. The army medically retired me. The Department of Veterans Affairs finally acknowledged some of my claims they had been declining even though I had documentation. I tried to be in a relationship again. That didn’t work. I got a “new” truck. Bought it used, but it’s pretty nice. I’m still at the job I started just before I stopped posting here. That is going very well. My New Orleans Saints were blatantly robbed of going to the Super Bowl a year ago. But on a more recent and triumphant note, my LSU Tigers are now the undisputed heavy weight champions of the college football world. Geaux Tigers.

Back to the reason for this post. I miss the old me. There were things I did back then that I can’t do as well now. There was a confidence from the core of my soul that seemed to faded over time. I had unlimited potential until I hit rock bottom. I feared nothing. I could convey my thoughts easily and not struggle to put the words in the right order like I do sometimes now. My memory was intact for the most part, now it’s hit and miss with everyday things. And I don’t ever remember having anxiety or serious bouts of depression years ago. While the debilitating moments of depression rarely visit now, anxiety is still a daily battle, but not bad.

I started sharing my thoughts and stories here in 2016, of war, suicide, PTSD, and all the things that go with those side effects of my life. It was a form of self-care and personal therapy, a way to get it all out and explore what was going on in my head. It turned into more than I ever imagined it would. And it was good for me. I wrote almost every week. Sometimes it would be a couple weeks in between posts, but for the most part I stuck to it. It was my outlet. I needed it; it became part of me. And I miss that.

Is missing the old me bad? I’ll never be the person I was before. I’ve lost some things, both physically and mentally. I will never get back some parts of the me that have vanished over time. Some of it is from going to war, some it is from getting older. The toll war took on my body and mind certainly amplify the effects of getting older. But I think much of what I deal with and have dealt with the last 6 years is from going to war. I refuse to accept that everything I am going though is from getting older, but I know that plays into it. And of course, growing up is not an option. I don’t plan on doing that.

Ultimately, I accept that I am different and will never be the same man I was before my life changed; changes coming from going to war and other changes attributed to the pains of getting older. But you want to know something cool? I embrace it. Accepting it is one thing, but I embrace it. This has been a new challenge in life that I look forward to each day. And that took a while, years actually. But I now embrace that I am not who I was. And I love the new me. I am learning things about myself that otherwise I never would have known. I’ve never been a fan a change, but if I fight it, it will only be harder on me. That, my friends, is from personal experience and I believe in some cases you just have to roll with it and accept change. Not gonna lie, it was scary, and still is.

I miss the old me. But I also love the new me. I wish I could do some of the things I used to be able to do. But I have new challenges each day and opportunities to learn about myself, to explore my new limits, to continue the journey of me. Sometimes I fail, sometimes I feel like I conquer the world. But I’m at peace with the past and with what the future holds, even if I don’t remember all of the past and have no idea what’s coming. I miss the old me, I love the new me. Life is good.

Thanks for stopping by Story of My Life. Good day, God bless.

Dave

I’ll Do My Best

I finish many of my conversations by saying “I’ll do my best.” Usually when someone tells me to have a good day, sleep well, have fun, or some other well-wishing suggestion, I respond with, “I’ll do my best.” And I mean it. It is a misnomer of sorts, in that I can’t always achieve my best, but I try and that’s the point. Sometimes my best is pretty good and sometimes it falls way short. I think “my best” can be characterized as an ultraviolet light wave. It goes up and down; and depending on where I’m at in the wave cycle depends on what “my best” will be at any given time or circumstance. And, like the ultraviolet light waves, it’s invisible to the naked eye. Sometimes I don’t even know what “my best” will be until it’s time to find out.

Doing my best isn’t always easy. And sometimes I fake it, or I realize during an event that I need to not lose my cool and adjust to a situation. That happened a couple of times last month. First, I was rear-ended on the job. I stopped at a red light, the young lady behind me did not stop in time. It was very minor, barely worth mentioning, but since I was in a city truck for work, a police report had to be made. I watched in the rearview mirror as smoke rose from the road because she locked up her brakes and the tires screeched. I prepared for impact. It ended up being just enough of a jolt to shake my truck. I was momentarily enraged. I’ve written many times here that traffic and driving are a trigger for my PTSD. But by the time we pulled off the road I calmed myself and handled the situation well.

More recently, as I had laid down one night to go to bed, I heard a commotion outside in the parking lot of the condo complex I live at. After about five minutes of listening to the yelling, I decided to go outside and see what was going on. I wasn’t happy about this. When I got outside I saw a young man holding a baseball bat and two young ladies walking away from him. At that point I went from being not happy to thinking I might have to take the bat from that guy and beat him with it. And in my mind as I saw him, I had already disabled the threat. I walked straight up to the guy staring at him the whole time. Two steps away from him, he dropped the bat and put his hands up by his shoulders. He continued to yell until the cops arrived despite my suggestions that he shut up and go back to his condo. Right before the cops showed up he bent down to pick up the bat. I was very calm and clear, but firm and direct in both tone and language, when I told him what the consequences would be if he picked it back up. Fortunately, especially for him, it didn’t come to that.

In both of those instances I did my best. I had to work on it very hard in a very short amount of time. I had only a few seconds each time to realize where my mindset was going and change course. I did good for the most part. But here’s the side effects of doing my best sometimes when I’m not ready to. After the minor wreck and all the waiting and paperwork was over, I had a splitting headache the rest of the day. Forcing myself to calm down in that situation created a lot of stress and anxiety that I carried the rest of the day. I handled the event well, but the rest of my day was horrible. As far as the baseball bat incident goes, I kept my cool enough to not harm that guy even when he bent over to pick up the bat again. After the cops interviewed me about what I saw, I filled out a police report as requested, and was free to go back to bed. The problem was I couldn’t fall asleep. My adrenaline was still going until 1 a.m. I kept replaying it all in my mind, even the part about pulverizing the guy which never even happened. I only got about four hours of sleep before I had to be back at work.

I understand why I dealt with those two events the way I did and had “side effects” afterwards. That’s how I, and many others, dealt with things at war. Focus, get the job done, keep your cool, don’t go crazy, know your surroundings, know all the rules of engagement. But when an incident or attack happens we end up with loads of energy and adrenaline spikes coupled with not knowing the outcome of a situation as it’s happening or having to be prepared to fight at any given time, whether we’re needed or not. It’s stressful. Unlike the two things that happened last month where I could process the events shortly after they happened, I waited until coming home from Afghanistan to process it all. That was dangerous, but I hardly had a choice. And the side effects of waiting until I got back from war were catastrophic. Failed suicide attempt, diagnosed with PTSD, depression, anxiety, unsociable, jumpy, anger issues. The list could go on and on.

Some days are harder than others, but I’m getting there. And I’ll end here as I do many of my conversations, I’ll do my best. Thanks for stopping by. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Welcome Home

His eyebrows sagged and his countenance fell. His lips tightened as he went into a blank stare. He wiped a tear from his eye. He was somewhere else in the world right then, a different place, a different time. He had come back from that place years ago, probably before I was born. He had to come back from it again during our conversation sitting at the bar. I wondered how many times he’s had to come back from there in the last 45 years or more.

During my last trip to Ft Jackson, I stayed for a week instead of the usual weekend. When I’m there for only my army reserve weekend, I have a routine I generally follow. I get to town on Friday, check into the hotel, then go to Sonic. And why not? They’ve gotten my order right 3 out of the last 5 times now, getting better. Saturday is usually blur, and Sunday afternoon I head back to Florida. But when I’m there for a week at a time, I usually go to a couple different restaurants instead of eating drive-thru food for a whole week.

One particular night I went to a place I’ve enjoyed a few times before. It’s a sports bar with a killer burger. Not only is it good, but it might kill you, too, at half a pound of beef. Hence, a killer burger. But I’ll take my chances. The beer is cold, there’s sports on the TVs, and the people are nice. That’s where I met Chuck.

The conversation at the bar had to the with the heat that day. Then Chuck started talking to me, saying something about a “dry heat” like in Arizona or something. I told him that only works until it gets to a certain point. I told him it was a dry heat where I was in Iraq, but once the temperature got over 110 degrees, it was just hot. Dry or not, it was hot. Side note. For the record, I took a picture of the thermometer outside our Preventive Medicine office at my base in Iraq. It was at 146 degrees. But it was a dry heat. LOL.

Then Chuck told me he had been to the two worst places in the world. The first place being Detroit during the riots in 1967. The second place was Saigon, 1968. He was a Vietnam Veteran. He told me how he went from Detroit to the jungle. Then he told me that of all the men on the plane that took him to Vietnam, only 4 came home. That’s when he retreated into his mind for a minute. I imagine he was taking a moment to remember each of them. I believe he could see them in his mind, maybe as they sat next to him on the plane or maybe as they drew their last breath, I didn’t ask. Either way, he needed a minute.

When he returned to reality, we changed the subject of our conversation to sports. But in only two minutes before that, I knew his pain. I had a sense of his war stories. I could tell where he had been in some respects. His face spoke it all very clearly. Sports brought a completely different face to Chuck. His sports stories were amazing and fascinating. The sports figures that he met over the years, the autographs he told me about, the memorabilia he said he has in his sports room. It all had me in awe. And he was happy talking sports. It’s his life now, and his job.

Everyone I went with to Iraq and Afghanistan came home. I personally knew a few people that died serving, but everyone I went with both times came home. I can’t imagine what goes through Chuck’s mind when he thinks about being only one of four surviving members of the group on the plane that took him to Vietnam. The only inkling I have of what he goes through is what I saw in his face while he revisited the fallen in his memories.

I have my moments where I get triggered to memories of war. On occasion I get jumpy because of unexpected noises. Being in traffic is hard for me. I battle anxiety and depression all the time. I’m still figuring out a lot of this since coming home from my last deployment. I don’t know his stories, but I can very much relate to how Chuck reacted when taken back to 1968. I also do that from time to time. And I wonder if years from now I’ll still have my moments like that. We’ll see.

I’ll say again what I told Chuck the other night. Thank you for leading the way with your service. And Welcome home. I’m glad you’re one of the four that came back.

Thank you all for stopping by this week. Good day, God bless.

Dave