The Write Stuff

Somewhere between being sick...

moving into a new house...

having writers' block...

getting offered a job interview...

and then having that offer rescinded... 

restarting my own version of the Atkins Diet...

getting a blister from shoveling snow... 

and watching the Super Bowl.

I haven’t published a blog in five days.

And it is killing me.

But it's not due to not trying.

(Two negatives makes a positive.)

In fact, in those five days, I wrote two blogs.

Two completely different blogs.

But neither one was right.

And you deserve right.

One blog was about a miserably sleepless night I recently had.

A night where I contemplated, but ultimately rejected, my maiden voyage into the land of Xanax.

You see, I had knots in my stomach like I had done 60 million sit-ups.

But that’s not possible.

Only Herschel Walker could do that.

But you can only stare at the ceiling for so long.

So finally I turned to the drug I have used and abused for the last 14 months.

It’s called writing.

I wrote a blog about exactly how I was feeling at exactly that moment.

It went a little something like this:

If there was ever a night to try the X-factor.

This would be it.

I could be sleeping right now.

Instead of writing.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a good thing.

Writing has been the best medicine any doctor could’ve prescribed.

It has bailed me out more times than I can count in the last year.

In fact, with every hit of the keyboard I can actually feel the wind coming back into my sails.

Or maybe somebody opened the window when I wasn’t looking.

I’m really glad that most of my stories are funny.

Or hopefully funny.

Because that’s who I am.

A guy who just wants to laugh.

And make people laugh.

I have so many things to be happy about.

I couldn’t count them on the hands of an octopus.

If octopi had hands.

And it makes me feel like a selfish fool that I can’t break this funk that I am in.

My kids have tried to break me.

Fortunately they think I have a fever.

My wife has tried to break me.

She knows the truth.

And it hasn’t set her free.

She is sitting next to me trying to find the right words to say.

Or not say.

I wish it was that simple.

Somehow at the end of my writing, all 673 words.

I felt better.  A lot better.

I still couldn’t sleep.

But the knots had gone away.

Writing is like Tabasco sauce.

It goes with everything.

A few days later I tackled the latest twist and turn in my pursuit of employment.

Recently I had a business meeting.

Not a job interview.

Just a meeting.

At this meeting, we talked about my life.

Their company.

And our business.

We never talked about a specific job opening.

Because there wasn’t one.

This particular meeting was with a very high ranking person in my industry.

I traded in a bunch of favors and a Pete Rose rookie card to get her email address.

I was shocked when she responded.

Maybe she thought I was somebody else.

But either way, this was my chance to shine.

And apparently I did.

About twenty minutes in she said... 

“It’s not often that great people occupy the couch you are sitting in for meetings like the one we are having.”

(Did she just call me “great?”)

“Does that mean that I am great?”, I responded.

My response was one part humble, one part tongue-in-cheek and seven parts PLEASE SAY YES.

“Yes.”

“You are great,” she said.

Holy ego boost Batman.

Upon hearing this, I did what any bashful person would do.

I threw both of my arms into the air like I had just completed a 149-yard touchdown pass.

Being called “great” in an interview, I mean meeting.

Wow!

But what did it really mean.

Well, in this case, it meant that six weeks later I had heard nothing from her.

Nothing.

Not a word.

Until a few days ago.

Out of nowhere she emailed me.

SHE emailed ME.

“I wanted to check in to see what you are up to?”

Um, nothing, absolutely nothing, positively nothing, I’ve got more free time than the greeter at WalMart.

I thought to myself.

She then asked if I would be interested in...

YES.

Interested in _______, fill in the blank.

The answer is still the same.

YES.

But in this case, I actually was REALLY interested.

Dream job, maybe not.

Great job, definitely.

Job!

I was going to wait three days to respond to her note.

Like they taught me in Swingers.

But instead I responded in three hours.

And I said I was very interested.

Not interested.

VERY interested.

Too eager I suppose.

About an hour later she replied back.

And said she had jumped the gun and that this wasn’t the right job for me.

But you called me GREAT.

Actually, I had to agree.  On the job not being right part.

But she also said she will stay in touch.

SHE will stay in touch with ME?

Nice.

Hey, the fact that I’m even on her radar is the victory here.

And that will help me sleep tonight.

it's all in the text

good morning....

Those two little words have been exchanged by my son and I every morning for as long as I can remember.

But today those words had a different meaning.

Today those words were not exchanged in his bedroom.

Or at the kitchen table.

Or in the living room, above the roar of the MLB Network recap show he watches EVERY morning.

Today those words were exchanged, via text.

From across the country.

From his little fingers to my little phone.

The fact that he is still thinking about me first thing in the morning is a great thing.

But I fully recognize that my sudden departure has brought a void in his life and the life of his mom and two sisters.

I can hear it in their voice and hear it in their texts.

And it makes me hurt knowing that they are hurting.

But like Jerry Lewis always says, this is for a good cause.

This was supposed to be a great fall for my son, instead it has been a great fall.

He was supposed to be playing tackle football and off-season baseball, all with his dad living one hallway away.

Two weeks ago he broke his hand in a football practice which ended his busy schedule, before it even started.

This came just a few days after I informed the kids that I was leaving.

That broke his heart.

Sadly, thousands of families inform their kids every day that dad is leaving.

Or mom is leaving.

But they are not coming back.

As a child of a divorced family, I can still remember that discussion like it was 31 years, seven months and 13 days ago.

For me, I think hearing that news was a relief.

The loud noises in our home had nothing to do with the MLB Network.

Rodney King did not invent, “can’t we all just get along”.

I did.

The good news for me and my family is that I am coming back.

Or actually they are coming back to me.

It’s just going to take some time.

Living apart, across the country, is not easy for any of us.

But knowing that there is a bright light shining, off in the distance, is what we are all focused on.

Deep down I know the kids are genuinely excited about what lies ahead for all of us.

But at 11-years old words like unemployment and mortgage and dad is not here anymore are words on a spelling test.

Not words in a test of real life.

I don’t expect the kids to know how I am feeling, but I definitely understand how they are feeling.

Growing up, we moved from one city to another after second grade and after fourth grade.

We moved from one state to another during tenth grade and after tenth grade.

During high school, I went to four different schools, in three different cities.

Amazingly it had nothing to do with bad grades or a bad attitude.

It had to do with work.

My dad’s work.

I didn’t understand it at the time.

But I can see clearly now that my dad is gone.

Good Day Sir

I usually spend all day writing a blog in my head and then when I get home I put pen to paper.

I mean fingers to keyboard.

But not this time.

The blog I had planned all day is being put on the back burner.

Instead you are getting a side of me that many of you have never seen before.

An off-the-charts happy, smiling from ear-to-ear, good things happen to good people, optimistic side that I have not felt in several years.

If ever.

I am typing as fast as I can because if I don’t finish this blog by midnight, who knows what will happen.

The source of this sudden burst of elation is my return to the working world.

I just finished day two of my new job and as Ronald McDonald would say, “da da da da da, I’m Loving It.”

Just like any relationship, the beginning is always the best.

The first date.

The first kiss.

The drive home after the first kiss.

Then the kids come and everything goes to hell.

Ok, back to the happy guy.

I have completed two whole days in the new job and they have both been fantastic.

Well day one was fantastic and day two was even better.

Ok, calm down, yes, I do realize that two days do not make a career.

But coming from where I came from, being happy is something that I couldn’t be any happier about.

This job has made me feel alive again.

I feel rejuvenated.

I feel respected.

I feel relieved.

And any other positive word that begins with the letter R.

I have no delusions that this feeling will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Honestly, I just hope its still there in the morning.

As I headed home from work tonight I spoke with a couple of my bestest buddies over the cell phone.

And let me tell you, my day was so good, AT&T only dropped one of the calls.

Now that’s amazing.

Both of my friends have been with me since college.

They were with me before my career, during my career and in the two years after my career died.

Tonight, both guys spoke with a friend they haven’t spoken to in a long time.

Oh, we’ve had calls.   Plenty of them.

But not like this.

I did most of the talking, sharing as many details as I could about how my week has gone.

They both told me that I deserve to be happy.

They both told me how excited they are that I am feeling so great.

And if they are so excited, just imagine how I must feel.

While I was out of work, I had dreams that this day would come.

But those dreams never came.

Well, not for me.

After everybody was let go from my last job, the shock and pain hit us all.

Hard.  VERY hard.

But one-by-one, the good people who were treated so badly found new work.

And one-by-one, they moved on with their life.

And one-by-one, they spent more time talking about tomorrow instead of yesterday.

I didn’t get that opportunity.

Until now.

During my two years on the bench, I had a couple of jobs that came my way.

Not job offers, just possibilities.

But none of them panned out.    And honestly, none of them were right.

This job is right.

At least 48 hours in, it feels right.

And that’s all I’m thinking about.

Honestly, I’m not thinking about in two weeks or in two months or in two years.

I’m thinking about now.

Right now.

And I feel good.

And that feels great.