Mother's Day poem, summer plans and quasi-vlogging

I have been working on an "assignment" from Mama Kat's Writers' Workshop. She is nice enough to prompt us with a few choices each week to help us get our creative juices flowing and this week she did not disappoint. When I read the five prompts, I smiled as I had (unbeknownst to myself) accomplished one ahead of time. So I did two more with it and I am going to post all three. I probably should skip prompt 1, but I need to get used to posting videos. My vlog attempt is a bit embarrassing, but since it came from the heart I'll do it anyway. Pardon the bit of slurring, but I had a few cold ones by that point.



Now to begin. I wrote my mother a poem (it might be the first). I hope you like it.

DEVOTION

Devotion
is the single word to be heard
that sums it up for all.
It is what you've done for forty-one
of the years I can recall.

Devotion
is what my fortunate father received
when he took your hand.
How is it that he correctly perceived
you as the fairest of the land?

Devotion
helped build a rock solid home
for seven bros and my sis.
Perpetually chasing us as we all did roam
ready with a hug and a kiss.

Devotion
to your choice of life work to do
by becoming a nurse.
Opting to aid the sick and needy, too;
instead of stuffing your purse.

Devotion
is what your favorite priest finds
when you grace his eyes.
Your resolve is the kind that binds,
strong faith you epitomize.

Devotion
to being the type of kind soul
to turn the other cheek.
Forgiving trespassers no matter the toll
and striving to be meek.

Devotion
the same offered to welcome guests
calling at your door.
Open to filling any and all requests
while refusing to keep score.

Devotion
to husband, family, job, church,
foes and friends the same.
For the word, no need to search
I just use your name.

Devotion
to helping you enjoy your life
in any way I can.
If dad deserved it, doubly so his wife
the only mother for this man.

stu pidasso

7May2009

This summer, I want to take my kids across Texas. Every other day we will enjoy a different waterhole in this great state. We will start out west in Balmorhea, and proceed to work our way across Texas to the east on our trip to Houston. I intend to have stops in Christoval, Junction, Llano, Burnet, Austin, New Braunfels, Bastrop and maybe more. I hope to do some swimming, fishing, canoing, dam jumping, cliff jumping, river tubing and more. We may even get my sister and her three men to come along for part or all of the trip. We may have to split it into two trips and do half of it next summer. I'll keep you posted.

And the last bit of bidness, is the posting of my first attempt at video upload.

Strolling through my head

Work is slow and I twiddle (not Twitter) my thumbs most the day lately. With this much time to kill, I find myself rehashing a lot of things while trying to refocus and stay on top of all my crap. As I pour through my journals and other writings, I occasionally come across things that I had put to far back in my mind.

Recently I was thinking of my little brother, Anthony; whom I have been close to (by age too) for most our younger life but recently are too far apart. It shows in my poem.

The poem was actually written on his birthday in 2004 and that was before his young son was born. Alas, how time flies by us all.

Ode to my lil’ bro

I have got to say on this day
that my only younger brother
has done our family proud
by doing right by his mother.

He managed to find his way
out of Mudville, Texas;
all the way to Florida;
which, my mind, perplexes.

He sowed his wild oats.
He avoided serious trouble.
He got it out of his system
and snapped to it on the double.

He got his education, and
on track he got his life.
He found himself employment,
and a lovely wife.

He bought her a nice home,
and he started a career,
Then together they started
a family which to rear.

And with that little girl he does

the chores and duties which he outta.
He takes good care of Emma’s mother
and Bubbles’ third granddaughter.

stu pidasso

February 8, 2004

And last night, I stepped out for drinks with a friend and his wife. While waiting for them to show up and trying my best not to look like I had nothing to do, I started work on another poem for my son. I have been working on writing a collection of poetry just for him and I decided to write twelve of them on the subject of the Boy Scouts of America's Scout Law. It says, "A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." Scouts were a big part of my life growing up and I fret over the absence of that quality life experience for my son, but I can at least expose him to the ideals and principals that I learned from my involvement. While thinking upon the topic of "HELPFUL", my mind wandered across the term "a better man". I remember it from the Jack Nicholson movie, As Good As It Gets, where he tells Helen Hunt at one point that knowing her (and in desiring her) made him want to be a better man. Here is my poem, Better Man, about being helpful which I have written to and for my son.

Better Man

Some strive for a woman.

Some struggle for a child.

Some are doing all they can

while others lounge and smile.

But boy, I implore

that you understand,

it is worth it all the more

for you to be a better man.

As we live from day to day

and do all the things we do;

when you have the means and way

lend a hand when it's asked of you.

Endeavor to be helpful, son;

to others on life's road.

But help them by pulling your own,

before laboring with their load.

stu pidasso

April 29, 2009

People, perspective, x-ray vision and self control

It's late here in Mudville and I am catching up on some blog reading. I stopped by Jen's at Random Thoughts and read her musing on x-ray vision. She wishes she could read other people's hearts. As I was digesting this one particular post, I also made a connection between her desire and the large number of broken relationship bloggers I encounter as I browse. I mean the sheer numbers of people who are blogging about broken relationships in their day to day postings (myself included) is staggering. Well, I wish I could read other people's hearts too. The first one I would read would be my own. I want to be a stand up guy. I want other people to see me as a stand up guy. I want to FEEL like other people see me as a stand up guy. But why is that? Why do I care what other people see me as? Is it that important that we have a public persona that all the other people out there like? Or should we all be of the "can't please everyone all the time so I might as well please myself" mentality?



I have a brother who was trying to lecture me on perspective. He did a pretty good job of it. He got me to thinking about all the different types of perception. He engaged me in such stimulating conversation (almost makes you feel dirty when I write like that doesn't it?!?) that I literally went home and lay in bed and contemplated my own existence. GROOVY MAN!!! Well, he at least got me to acknowledge that there are a few different slants of perception to ALL our situations.



First, There is how you perceive things. You know how you think. You know how you vote. You know how you feel when you read all the horrific and mind-boggling news we see day in and day out in our world. You have a pretty good grasp how you see the world, right? Right. But how do you see yourself? Who do you consider yourself to be?



Now, compare and contrast (if you can comfortably do that) that self-perception with how you THINK others perceive you. Is there anyone you know that you think doesn't like you? Even a stranger you cut off in traffic? Anyone? Your boss? Your ex? Any enemies at all? Well, aren't you special!



Now, since you just mentally checked out that perception, you have perceived how others perceive you. That could be totally different from how they actually perceive you. Confused yet? Cool. So the whole "perception" thing is a crap shoot. You don't really know how others feel about you unless you are really tight with them and then you shouldn't even have to worry about it because they are apparently your mates, right? So, I guess we are back to the whole "can't please all the..", you know the quote.



That is exactly why we ask ourselves these questions. We want validation that we are good people. Not just validation that WE think we are good people, but validation that OTHER people see us as good people.



Back to that damn quote.



But the quote is true. We can't please everyone all the time. So we need to worry about pleasing ourselves and those loved ones we let share our lives. And to this end, actions speak louder than words.



I love my parents. I love my kids. I love my siblings. I love their families. I love my friends. I love my dog. And I strive to prove that love by doing the day in and day out things that SHOW I love them. Doing the dishes at six in the morning so that all have clean coffee cups. Coming home for lunch to make sure that my mom has eaten something nutritious and that my dog gets out for a walk. But as I suggest in this very post, actions speak louder than words. So ladies (and gents), you don't need x-ray vision; you just need time to actually watch what people do in certain situations.



It all comes down to self-control. Doing the right thing in the right situation at the right time is tricky. Actually it can be down right hard sometimes. And I know that I fail at it. ALOT. But that is cool because I know me, and I mean well, despite my own imperfections.



So, to heck with what you all think. I am going to tuck my mom in, give my dog a treat and have a beer. But I am watching you to see how you behave and if you are a nice woman with good values and show it by being yourself day in an day out, well; you rock!! And you heard it here as validation that I perceive you that way.



In fact, some of the bloggers I think rock are Diane, J Cosmo Newbury, Curl Girl, Mama Kat, Matt, Wendy, Janie, Black Hockey Jesus, C Beth, Laurie, Quita, Jenn, Angie, Melissa, and more than I can keep writing out. But I only see you on the web, so my perception is limited.

a few tidbits from my latest opium induced fantasy...

It has been a few weeks since I last posted and a lot of stuff is going on, but I am at a loss for any inspirational topics to blog about. My mom is doing okay, no back soreness or spasms. My drunk brother is, well...drunk. My perpetually young at heart brother is still trying to convince everyone around him that he is in no way approaching fifty. I still haven't gotten off my ass and completed any of the multitudes of projects I have started. My dog is still well, but his hips are quivering like a fat girl sitting on a running washing machine (no offense intended to anyone as I am one jellyroll away from 250 and 5'8"). Ahhhh, my sister. My sweet sister and her husband. My sweet sister and her husband and their two great teenagers. They all piled into the traveling vehicle and rampaged across Texas to get their sweet asses to Austin. There, older teenager competed in the state swim meet. He already set district records and excelled in regionals and was now trying his skill at state. They tanked. But not in a bad way. They (and I say they because he was there to compete with his school relay teams) were not sucky as in they had a chance to win and just flopped. No, they did their best and just got outshone by bigger, older, more prepared kids. My teenagers are swimmers too, and it would have been a great chance for them to support their cousins and see their auntie and uncle, but I was sick and my daughter was sick and my son had an art contest there in Houston. So a trip to Austin to see cousin swim was not in the cards. But this weekend I go to get them and bring them HOME for spring break. That has nothing to do with my sweet ass sister and her fam though. Anyway, said swimming cousin and his relay mates were ranked 15th in their first event and ended the meet in.......you guessed it, 15th place. They were ranked 14th in their second relay event and the finished there also. Whoever is ranking these high school swim teams has got one hell of a crystal ball in there pocket. Yo, high school swim ranker dude, can you give me a few stock tips??

For clarity, it must be noted that this was composed two weeks ago....before spring break. A follow up will be in the works tomorrow.

Before they were movies......

Growing up in my house, my dad was a little overbearing. I think it had a lot to do with the responsibility that he was shouldering. The man had nine kids and worked two jobs to help pay for our upbringing. In the evenings, he would come home and the tension would just be thick as soup. But when it came to dinner time (and we ate as a family most always), he liked to read to us. My dad considered himself a scholar and being a member of Mensa, I'd have to say he was pretty smart. He desperately wanted to pass that intelligence along to all of us. He was demanding. So, after finishing his meal, he would settle in and read us chapters of a book at a time. I remember him reading J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Hobbit", and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. He even did the voices. How he kept all the voices straight from dinner to dinner was amazing. It was one of the neatest regular family events we had. SO long before they were made into movies, my siblings and I knew all about Frodo, Bilbo, Gandolf and all the others. Somehow those moments shared between my father and us got missed in the early teen years between my kids and I.

I survive!!!

It has been just over two months since my neck injury in Dallas during a rugby match. I have missed every practice except three, sat on my ass for most the two months and it showed. I played Saturday. I didn't play well, mind you; but I played. My coach penciled me in at fullback and I got to cover the deep and the wide ball. There is nothing like eighty minutes of rugby to let you know how old, fat, and out of shape you are! For comparison, the guy across the midfield line from me (the Dallas Reds' fullback) was about twenty five years old, in shape, and had his 'do dyed PINK with this cute little blue stripe from the nape on the left side all the way round to the temple. Let me tell you though! He ran. He ran. He ran, and while I was sucking wind with both hands on my knees from inertia kicking my ass all over the field, he ran some more. The Reds' threw this guy at us repeatedly. He was running blind side, he was running crashes, he was running loops around the outside center to give the wing an overload......when he felt like passing the ball. Mostly he kept it and did this nice power step cut to the back shoulder and went right by whoever was standing there to tackle him. But I played the whole game. I did not re injure my neck. And I had plenty of collisions and tackles to have enough of a chance to hurt it again. So although I think I will be alright and intend to start practicing a lot harder now; I still will be careful with my neck. For that which does not kill me, makes me stronger....but I still don't want a screwed up neck!

Ruck on brothers!

Flirtation with Frustration

Along each of our paths, while travelling our own separate journeys, many of us come into contact and make acquaintances with tiresome, tedious or just plain unsavory characters. Having been on the road for eight long years, now that I am finally home, I want to rest. Well, rest as far as life will let me. It is no picnic being a care provider, and although my mom is still quite self-sufficient, she still requires a lot of time and effort to keep her smiling and satisfied. At the ripe old age of 74, it doesn't take much to tire her out or make her body ache. Consequently, I (and some of the others in her life) find a lot of chore work to be done. Well, some of us anyway. In this little blog saga about my mom and our family, there are many characters. One of my brothers is definitely a character. He is ten years older than me and is quite exacerbating. He is a functioning alcoholic. He manages to drink a twelve pack of beer a day and sometimes more. Rain or shine, hell or high water, store bought beer or homemade wine; he is going to get drunk EVERYDAY. I knew this about him when I first started to get to know him two years ago. I mean I know him, he is my brother; but I didn't KNOW him. Now that he is sharing my house (and more accurately my mother's house as mine is in the process of modification), I am really getting to see how he is. He tends to get pretty drunk and after he is ten beers in or so, we have conversations. I am sure that he doesn't remember the bulk of these conversations, but I do. So the other week, we were having one of these conversations and he admitted that he intends to do as little as possible. I mean he looked right at me through those blood shot little weaselly eyes and professed that he has every intention of not doing a damn thing to help with any chore other than drinking his alcohol or getting fucked up. And he did it with sincerity. I asked him if he thought it was fair that I did all the work to get my house in order and then he was going to come right in and plop his drunk ass down and continue living the good life on my coat tails. He didn't have any problem with that at all. Does the story of the ant and the grasshopper come to mind?? It does to me. At fifty years old, he has nothing.....no house, no savings and no inner drive to better his current life or make arrangements for the future. It saddens me to see him waste his talents, because I know he is smart and he can write better than I can. I rue the day that he frustrates me so bad that I toss his ass out, because he isn't a spring chicken and the choices in his life are starting to take their toll and picking up speed along the way. I love my brother, but he really pisses me off sometimes!