Party Time

My name is Sir Bacon.

And I am a Republican.

Well, registered Republican.

It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

Even though I rarely seem to vote that way.

Obama.

Voted for him.

Kerry.

Voted for him.

Clinton.

Voted for him.

And I would vote for her too.

“So exactly what part of Republican are you?”

Good question.

Deep down, I think I believe in the principles of the Republican Party.

You know.

What’s mine is mine.

And what’s yours is mine.

But when it comes time to hang my chad, I just can’t pull the trigger.

And if you can’t pull a trigger, you are not a true Republican.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t play one on TV.

You see the Republican Caucus recently came to my town.

Specifically an elementary school right around the corner from my house.

The invitation was taped on my door.

It came from Ron and Steve.

And they shared the same last name.

I’m assuming they were brothers.

After all, they are Republican.

The invite said that the festivities would start at 7pm.

Sharp.

Which they did.

Unfortunately I didn’t arrive until closer to 7:20.

And by the time I got there, all of the Presidential talk was done.

I’m sure it went something like this.

I love Newt’s hair.

I love Mitt’s hair.

I love Mitt’s name.

Ron Paul has two names.

Let’s vote Santorum.

With that out of the way, we moved onto the other items on the menu.

Like... Who Wants to Be a Delegate?

Our version of... Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

Only this room was filled with Republicans.

So everyone there was already a millionaire.

There were a total of 52 people in the room.

42 Men.

10 Women.

1 Asian.

The others were as white as they come.

In fact, the room was so white, there was even a couple there named White.

Now I’m not sure if the fact that 51 of the 52 in our group were caucasian is more of a sign of it being a Republican Caucus.

Or the neighborhood I live in.

But either way, I fit right in.

As long as I didn’t mention that I was Jewish.

The first step to picking our delegates was listening to a 30-second pitch from each of the dozen candidates.

Each candidate came prepared.

With a pre-prepared zinger.

“I want to fumigate the White House.”

“This is our country and we need to take it back.”

“I believe in the Constitution.”

“I used to live in Upstate New York.  That’s when I was a Democrat.”

“I was raised in Springfield, Illinois and I learned a lot from Abraham Lincoln.”

You mean the guy who freed the slaves.

Are you sure you are in the right place?

One of the speakers claimed to be an author.

He said he sold his books at gun shows.

And Tea Party rallies.

He didn’t look familiar to me.

After we voted in our delegates, it was time to propose some resolutions.

We were told that any passed resolutions would go directly from our dry erase board to our local Republican party.

Then to the state Republicans.

Followed by the federal Republicans.

And if any of our resolutions make it all the way to the Dems.

Then they would go straight to the shredder.

But it’s not about the end result.

It’s about the process.

“This is how you can have a voice in the party,” we were told.

“This is what the Republican platform comes from.”

And the whole time I thought it came from Fox News Channel.

From our room, there were three resolutions proposed.

One opposed “all forms of gun control.”

One wanted us to “repeal ObamaCare.”

And one said poor people should pay higher taxes.

Ok, I made that one up.

But it could've happened.

According to our master of ceremonies, all three resolutions passed.

“With very few no votes.”

I guess I qualify as very few.

The meeting lasted all of 68 minutes.

And despite what you’ve been reading for the last 664 words, I really did enjoy myself.

I’m not sure that I am any more Republican now than I was before the Caucus.

And I’m certainly not any more likely to vote Republican in the next election.

But it did feel good to spend an evening surrounded by people I have absolutely nothing in common with.

New Year, New Start

New Year’s Day brings out optimism like no other day during the year.

Maybe it’s the weather at the Rose Parade.

Or betting on the bowl games.

Or whatever it takes to keep the glass half-full.

Or the bottle half-empty.

Oh wait, that’s New Year’s Eve.

Somewhere in our subconscious we must feel like opening a new calendar means we are opening a new page in our life. 

It was a year ago today that I started writing this here blog.

I guess I could’ve picked January 5th.

Or the 14th.

But January 1, 2010 will always go down as one of the most important days in my life.

Thank you to the hundreds of thousands of wonderful people who have taken the time out of their life to read about mine.

You have changed my life forever.

You gave me inspiration, when I had none.

You gave me hope, when I had none.

You gave me, me, when I didn’t know who me was.

At the time, my life was on hold.

My career was dead.

My future was not so bright.

I definitely didn’t need shades.

Sitting here a year later, my life is still on hold.

And my career is still dead.

And at this exact moment, there are a lot more questions than answers about my future.

But even though 1-1-11 looks a lot like 1-1-10, somehow it feels different.

Like last year, my full-time job now is being a dad.

But this year, I realize just how lucky I am to have that job.

Like last year, many of my days are spent wondering what happened.

But this year, I am not blaming myself.

Like last year, I wonder if I will get another job.

Ever.

I honestly believe that.

I realize I said that a year ago.

And yes, I realize that I got another job.

But that job came out of the leftist part of left field.

And it disappeared right in front of my eyes.

For nearly three months in 2010, life was special again.

At least it felt that way.

Every morning I got up and went to work.

That’s how Career for Dummies says it is supposed to happen.

Then, without a blink, it was gone.

And I was right back at home, where this all started.

Except the home was gone.

Somebody else was sleeping in my bedroom.

Even though they knew the cards we had been dealt.

And they just didn’t care.

I have tried to make sense out of all that has happened.

And none of this makes sense.

I have tasted some of the appetizers of depression since my life changed in New York about six weeks ago.

And they taste terrible.

But thankfully that taste hasn’t lasted very long.

Fortunately, I’m still getting out of bed in the morning.

And faking my way through the day.

And as you can probably tell by some of my blogs, I have not completely lost my sense of humor.

And I have absolutely not lost my love of life.

So no need to call Randolph Mantooth.

Yet.

During this holiday time, I would need 5000 hands to correctly count my blessings.

Right now, we are without a home.

But we are FAR from homeless.

At this exact moment I am all alone.

But my wonderful family is just an ear shot away.

I have no money concerns.

I have no health concerns.

I have no concerns.

But that hasn’t stopped me from waking up at 3:18 in the morning.

And that hasn’t stopped me from wondering what has happened to my life.

Or where it will go from here.

Just a couple of years ago, I was living the dream.

Living in a place where my wife and kids were as happy as they could be.

Working in a job that fulfilled me.

Every moment.

Of every day.

Then that job disappeared.

Because.

Just because.

And not because of anything I did.

I battled my way through unemployment (and pity parties), learning new skills and creating a new place in life for myself.

And creating this new friend called Sir Bacon.

And just as I was growing comfortable in my new life and my new career, I got a call to return to my old life.

And my old career.

In a new place.

A great place.

Called New York.

Three months into this new life, I was told to go home.

Because.

Just because.

And not because of anything I did.

They say that lightning doesn’t strike twice.

Who are “they” anyway?

And even with all of the twists and turns that life has brought me, I am still standing.

Or stumbling.

But not falling.

Not yet.

And with a new year starting, that gives me a chance to think about what could be.

And maybe even what will be.

For me.

And maybe for you too.