knuckleball

Even

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 18:31:00 +0000

It's been eight months since my last post. You'd think something would have happened in my life that would give me fodder for some interesting blog post. But you'd be wrong. However, I've had several friends undergo some serious changes. One friend and her family moved from Denmark (after ten years) to New York City. Another changed careers, from a scholastic environment to a more traditional business one. Another friend split from his wife with their relationship heading toward divorce. My in-laws nearly drowned in a boating accident. My sister moved to Texas with her husband to Fort Bliss. A friend of mine bought a REAL fixer-upper, his first house purchase in over twenty years. A woman friend of mine so dreaded turning 40 she nearly had a nervous breakdown, and now that she's passed that milestone, has embraced it and started a blog discussing her newfound appetite for life. And, me? Well, I'm just the same. A straight line. Like the Seinfeld episode when George's life is on the rise, Elaine's is plummeting and Jerry loses a $20 bill only to find a replacement in an old coat. Even. Always even. I've always wondered what it would be like to live a life full of excitement and drama. But I don't think it's meant to be. With Hurricane Earl about to slam into New England, I realize I will never be a part of those swirling winds and sheathing rains of life. I will always be the eye of the storm. Steady, boring, calm. But a safe harbor which my friends can always rely on.

Who am I?

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 20:28:00 +0000

“. . . it is memory that makes us who we are; without it we
are forever trapped in the moment, with no window on the past
or the future.” H. Lee Hagan.

Is this true? Are we only our memories? I’ve always thought the present was what defined me, my current actions in a particular circumstance. But the present is infinitely small. There it is. Gone. There it is again. Gone. It’s too small to measure. By the time you agree on the present it’s now the past. And although the future is infinitely large, we can not define ourselves based on something that hasn’t happened yet. So, maybe this is right. Memories make us who we are.

However, it’s been scientifically proven that our memories are fallible. Much of what we remember has been distorted through time, altered by prejudices, and siphoned of detail. So, our memories of ourselves are not what really happened. What REALLY happened is gone. We are not what we remember. What about others? Other people have memories of us which define us through their eyes. But we can’t count on them, their memories of us are just as bad, just as jaded. Who are we, then?

I have an image of myself, of the man I was, and the man I became, but it is false because it is based on the flimsiest of truths, memory. So who am I? I come back to the present, no matter how small a time that is, as what defines me. It’s not necessarily what I have done, but what I’m doing that makes me the person I am. And although what you have just read is in the past, and you may not remember it exactly, in this season of giving and forgiveness it is not the ghosts of the past, or the spectres of the future, but the people and the actions of the present that define who you are.

Absolute Power

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 19:56:00 +0000

It's been awhile since my last post. The summer here in Maine has gotten hot and humid and I haven't done much writing. It's hard when your sweaty hands stick to the keyboard. But I have been thinking. I'm become fascinated in our "politically correct" world about the power of absolutes. In an age where Tiny Tim's "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" has become an anthem of behavior, why do people get so riled up about certain absolutes?

pro choice v. pro life
democrat v. republican
paper v. plastic
black v. white
spy v. spy
Christian v. Muslim v. Jew
gay marriage v. civil union
gun control v. guns v. no guns
death penalty v. life in prison

You would think, given our tendencies to "tiptoe" around issues that we would all be on the fence, but of course that's not the case. These issues and others like them elicit fierce, intense responses. Why? I wasn't able to come upon an answer myself but did find one in the current book I'm reading, Life, Inc. by Douglas Rushkoff. He says:

"The result is a world in which a few educated experts compete against one another for the "blink" decisions of uneducated and unthinking human beings. Under such a system, the corporations with the most money would presumably have access to the best psychological technicians, and would direct and control an otherwise unwieldy populace. Even if the best psychologists turn out to be well-meaning manipulators who work for nonprofit organizations instead of for-profit corporations and lobbies, they're still pushing people toward automatic, ill-considered, and often angry behaviors. That these techniques depend on isolating and targeting individuals, psychographic segments, or, at best, consumer tribes is irrelevant. The more we can be made to respond to hot-button issues, the more selfish, fear-based, and individualistic will our behavior be. And it may even feel to us like an exercise of autonomy."

We are, in our gullibility, being forced to choose sides, being manipulated to regard the other view as heresy, and being directed to ignore and despise another person's opinion. It is being done on purpose, and we are letting it happen. Don't let it happen to you.

Offensive language

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 23:49:00 +0000

We live in an age of political correctness. Everyone walks on eggshells afraid to say anything that might offend another person. Soon words like Policeman, Fireman, Garbageman (okay maybe not garbageman) will be altered to remove the “man” part. Changes are already underway to many textbooks doing just that. For example, Founding Fathers has been discarded in favor of Founders or Framers. Snowman is now snowperson, jungle is now rain forest, and grandpa went from senior citizen to older person. When did senior citizen become offensive, and what part bothers the older people, senior or citizen?

How far is enough? Will manhole become peoplehole and won’t that be confusing (especially if you say it too fast) with peephole? What about manslaughter? Does that become citizenslaughter? No, I forgot, citizen is offensive to somebody. And, really what is so bad about a mans laughter? These changes go on and on. There appears no end in sight. And although the political correct police (notice I left off the men part) are deleting words like hot dog (bad nutrition), devil (offends Christians, even though God wouldn’t exist without the devil), and yacht (bothers poor people?), it is the attack on masculine words that worries me the most.

Why is our society so intent on emasculating the written and spoken word? What did men do to deserve this? Right, never mind.

Thoughtless

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 18:52:00 +0000

My mind is blank. I’ve haven’t written a new post in quite some time because not a new thought has come to me. I’m thought-less. This happens to me every once and a while; my brain shuts down any new critical thinking. It’s the summer, so maybe like the rest of America it’s on vacation. A temporary plant shut down and a mandatory leave of absence. I’m bothered by it.

I should be able to write something pithy about Congress’s inability to put aside their individual wants and act for the good of the nation.

I should be able to write something encouraging for the troops who continue to fight against a ghost-like foe with the morals of an anvil.

I should be able to write something scathing about banks who show huge profits only because they have sold off assets and laid off employees; and about Wall Street who finds these gains somehow encouraging.

I should be able to write something clever discussing how I fixed the toilet in room 16. Down goes the whale!

I should be able to write something critical about the Red Sox furiously frustrating ability to leave men on third with less than two outs.

I should be able to write something. Anything. But I can’t. It’s summer, and my mind is on vacation.

Erratica (def: useless data and unanswerable questions)

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 19:06:00 +0000

Why don’t people change the roll of toilet paper? They leave one sheet on the old roll, open a new roll, but don’t put the new roll on the dispenser. When did this become rocket science?

When did it become okay to pass a car(making a left turn) in the breakdown lane?

I'm reading a biography of Woody Guthrie and thinking about the current events surrounding Steve Mcnair and Michael Jackson, and wondering why we allow genius to override basic social decency? These men are not heroes.

When did it become okay NOT to use your blinkers?

Why do some people insist on calling me “buddy” when I’ve just met them?

When did it become okay to use a motel’s towels to wipe down your car, or your motorcycle, or your bicycle, or your pet monkey’s ass?

Why do women always want to know what their men are “thinking?” They know exactly what we are thinking, since we only “think” about one thing.

Men don’t lose the hair on their heads, it simply migrates somewhere else. For example, my head has less hair, but my eyebrows are fabulous.

Is it my imagination or are all the politicians getting caught cheating on their wives, or taking graft, devout Christians? In this regard, The Family is a must read. And why aren’t Christians more outraged by the behavior of the people representing them?

Why do people leave the shower curtain outside the tub when taking a shower?

Why are most people embarrassed about perfectly natural bodily functions?

Does it bother anyone else knowing that President Obama is somewhere in the White House lighting up a cigarette? Or is it just cool? I can’t decide.

Why do Chuck Taylor’s cost $40? They’re made in China now, there is no reason for this.

Why are an overwhelming majority of literary agents women? And, is this skewing what’s getting published?

The older I get, the less I know.

The Pool and God

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 20:21:00 +0000

I’m working on the pool and I’m thinking is this worth it? I spend countless hours getting the pool ready in the spring; fixing and painting the deck after a hard winter, cleaning and scrubbing the liner, and attempting to get the chemicals at appropriate levels. And for what? I can count on two hands the number of people who use the pool throughout the summer. I don’t blame them. It is, after all, an outdoor, unheated pool in northern Maine; the water is most often freezing. But I know I can’t get rid of it. The pool will always be here, because people like knowing it’s there.

In the flexuous and unpredictable way my mind works I realized, as I was vacuuming the bottom, that the pool is like God. When pressed, most people, even though they were not religious in the “ceremonial sense” (they don’t read the bible or attend church regularly), would consider themselves spiritual and would say that they believe in God. They may never pray. They may never seek His guidance, but they want Him to be there, just in case. The existence of the pool is the same. Most will never use it, but the pool will always be here, because people like knowing it’s there.

I’m not a water person and so I never use the pool. Even in the most sweltering times I would never seek it’s cool, clear waters for salvation; it’s not my way. And as much as I complain, I would never deny or denigrate others who need to immerse themselves in the pool to restore and revive their souls. Ultimately, if only one person needs the pool or thinks they need the pool, then it’s worth it. The pool will always be here, because people like knowing it’s there.

Freedom Leak

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 18:06:00 +0000

Behind my property is a large section of swamp and forest with no neighbors. I've seen deer, raccoon, rabbits, porcupine, coyote, snakes, and many species of bird, including pileated woodpeckers. It is a small haven to escape the rigors of my job (including that damn toilet in room 16 - see earlier post) and affords me a place to do something that brings me great joy; peeing outdoors. I'm sure there is some psychoanalytical reason why this gives me such pleasure, but I'm not interested in why the hypothalamus portion of my brain lights up like Independence Day fireworks whenever I take a "freedom" leak. I don't care. I just know that it makes me happy. Standing there, hands on hips, wetting the soil at my feet, washes my worries away. It is a sense of naturalness (of being with nature) that can be hard to find in our wired world of internet, facebook, twitter, and blogs. Sometimes my dog joins me, and when we're done he looks up at me with his brown, soulful eyes as if to say "I know. I know. And I get to do this all the time."

Many of the people reading this blog are women who I expect do not share my joy, and so I have some information for you that you may not have known. Men also enjoy peeing outside because that means we are not peeing inside. Sometimes we have a hard time hitting the bowl, and no, it's not out of spite. Frustratingly, the stream can split and go in several directions at once. I've seen as many as six streams - up, down, right, left, and two spinning around like pinwheels. When this happens it's impossible to maintain "bowl integrity." I suspect it happens to women too, but because you're sitting you don't notice. So, I implore all the women reading this blog not to punish your husband for missing the bowl; however, you should be angry as hell if he doesn't clean it up. There's no excuse for that. And if he continues to refuse to sponge up his spillage, send him outside. You'll be doing both of you a favor.

Trumpet

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 20:13:00 +0000

I'm taking this opportunity to "Toot my own horn". My book is done and available! If you know someone (son, daughter, nephew, niece, cousin, friend) who might be interested in a novel of young adult fantasy, you can purchase it at Amazon. Please visit the book's Facebook page and become a fan. If you or someone you know purchases the book join the Where's Jinda? photo page on Facebook, our goal is to post a picture of a reader with the book from every landmark, town, city, state, and country. Help us!

Because I've unabashedly promoted my book and announced its release, I invite all my readers to "Crow like Peter Pan" and tell us about a recent accomplishment. Too often in our society we dampen our achievements. It's unseemly to beat your chest and pronounce I've done something great. Well, not here. Not now. Take advantage. Don't be shy. Tell us what you've done. We will all be excited, enthralled, and enthusiastic to hear.

Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 18:14:00 +0000

I know a guy who is clever, smart, and witty. He is well read and can discuss politics, religion, the Civil War, sports, and many other subjects intelligently and lucidly. His quickness of thought and cheeky tongue are legendary. I consider myself reasonably bright, but when we are together I'm definitely the dumb one. He never graduated high school and spent most of his adult working life behind the counter of a sub shop making sandwiches. He suffers from depression and he drinks too much. He is my friend and I worry about him.

He has high blood pressure and diabetes. He hasn't worked for over a year. Jobs are scarce here and when one does become available tens if not hundreds of people apply. He has less than five dollars to his name and I don't feel sorry for him. You shouldn't either. He doesn't. He knows the choices he made led him to this point. Still, he is my friend and I worry about him.

We were fishing the other day, having a great time, laughing, ribbing each other, catching nearly forty fish between us when he announced abruptly that he'd been doing some serious thinking and knew, finally, what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He told me and I mumbled something back that was neither consoling nor relevant (I told you I was the dumb one), and continued to fish. His words, his plan of action, his new life's work hung with me like the Maine fog for a few days until it lifted and my head cleared and I understood the implications. He said simply, "I want to make people happy." I don't know (and neither does he) how he will accomplish this. I only know that even if he tries, it will, at the very least, make him happy. He is my friend and I am proud of him.

Sign Off

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 17:39:00 +0000

I was leafing through my daughter's yearbook and several of the senior quotes stood out:

"You need three things to succeed in life: A wishbone, a backbone, and a funnybone."

"Everything will be okay in the end, if it's not okay, it's not the end."

"Beware the lollipop of mediocrity; lick it once and you'll suck forever."

"I say, if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously reexamine your life."

And I thought what a wonderful thing to look at your life and attempt to create or find a quote that represents who you are at that moment. A message not only to your current friends (and yourself) but a shout out to your future self. This is what I was like! Remember! Why do we only do this when we graduate high school?

And then, I thought, these senior quotes are like their personal sign-offs, like Edward R. Murrow's Good night, and good luck, or Walter Cronkite's And that's the way it is, or even Porky Pig's That's All Folks. Wouldn't it be great if we all had our own personal sign-off, some little slice of verbage that captures all three facets of who we are: what we look like, how we define ourselves (work or hobby), and our philosophy of life. I considered this for a long time, and I believe I have found mine. For those who know me, they will instantly recognize that my sign-off is the perfect description of my "uniform," that it most definitely reflects the work I do, and hopefully represents my take chances, critics-be-damned outlook. I recommend that everyone create their own sign-off and post them here. I'll end this post and all future posts with mine. Get Dirty!

Nemesis

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 22:47:00 +0000

". . . from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee."

I quote from Moby Dick because the toilet in room 16 is my white whale. I could have used "the toilet in room 16 is my Lex Luthor," or "the toilet in room 16 is my Professor Moriarty," or some other arch nemesis (if you can think of any others please post them here). But I like "white whale" the best because the color and even the shape of a toilet is reflective of the giant mammal. So, the toilet in room 16 is my white whale.

Every year I have one recurring problem that for some reason I just can't fix. Last year was something in number 8, the year before number 4, this year 16. And it really bothers me, because I pride myself on being able to fix just about anything. It's an itch I can't scratch. Technically speaking a customer broke the original handle and I've had to replace it with a "universal" handle, which of course are not universal (they're not even worldly or stately for that matter). Anyway the handle just doesn't fit properly or work efficiently and causes some customers to get frustrated enough to break it again. I've installed three handles in a month with no end in sight.

But unlike Ahab, I've come to grips with my situation. In truth, I've come to embrace it. I enjoy having a white whale in my life. I laugh now at its repeated attempts to thwart my plans. Granted, sometimes I scream and shake my fist at the sky, but deep down I know I need my white whale. We all do. Whether yours is a family member, something or someone at work, or the toilet in number 16, an arch nemesis keeps us thinking, learning, improving. And when we defeat it, well, nothing is sweeter.

Graduating Optimism

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 22:57:00 +0000

I attended my daughter's high school graduation today and wanted to comment on something I noticed from this event.

During the diploma ceremony the kids that got the largest ovations were the ones that had struggled. It didn't seem to matter if they just squeaked through because of learning disabilities, or family problems, or laziness. At first I was a bit angry. My daughter (and others like her), who had worked her butt off taking the hardest classes and getting good grades, were applauded tepidly while the crowd went wild for the kids barely graduating. But as I stewed I began to understand that this response by the audience was characteristically American. Americans have an unlimited capacity to cheer the underdog, a bottomless well of empathy for the disadvantaged, and a neverending optimism that the bad will become good. It is what helps make Americans unique. Everything great that America does or will do comes from this foundation of positiveness. Eventually, I joined the others in celebrating all the kids of the class of 2009. I fervently hope that every individual learns to feel the buoyancy of good will each and every day that infused and inflated the crowd today at my daughters high school graduation.

Practical Advice

noreply@blogger.com (Jack Speight) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 20:55:00 +0000

I feel as though my first post should have some earth shattering, life altering, mind blowing philosophical morsal that melts in your mouth and sends your endorphins into a rapturous tizzy, but all I could come up with is "Don't drink soap." Well, at least it's practical.

In general, I hope to relate what is going on with my painting, writing, and life as a motel owner. I'll start today with my book. I've written a young adult fantasy called Jinda Maige and The Bone of Evil. Feel free to visit the website to learn more about the book. I received the final proof this week and will begin selling once the website, facebook page, and amazon.com page are up and running. I'll keep you posted.