Tag: bloganuary

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Desperately Seeking Treasure . . .

When I was in my twenties working in Florida, I met a man who claimed to be a treasure hunter. He also claimed to be a novelist. He was a security guard at the attraction I was installing.

The Spanish galleon Nuestra Senora de Atocha.

He would sit in his chair, leaning back on two legs with his hands folded across his belly, intense gaze and moustache bristling, while regaling me with all the treasures he was seeking and adventures he had had. Mostly involving the wrecks of Spanish ships from the 1600s off the coast of Florida.

I would listen in wonder but also wonder if any of it was true.

Was he really a treasure hunter? Novelist? Did it matter? He did have a certain gravitas.

I saw him telling one his tales to the man I was working for. I could see by my boss’s expression. He was barely paying attention and his body was turned three-quarters away while slowly inching away from the storyteller.

Literal lost treasure only has value because we care about it. The real lost treasure is the time we spend not paying attention. The treasure hunting, novelist, security guard in this anecdote was a small moment in my life but I remember him. I can still see him sitting there leaning back with a look of, “I’m going to tell you a secret.” across his face.

Thank you for reading.

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PIG

My father was a police officer.

He made a lot of enemies in that job.

When I was three years old. One of his enemies burned our house down.

I have a very vague recollection of the fire. I was very small. But I remember King.

He saved our lives that night. He got me out of the house and then my parents.

Thank you for reading.

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Staying right here.

When I was in Kindergarten, we had an album in our classroom that our teacher Ms. Blank would play. As a kid, I loved that album so much. It was a rough time for me and the lyrics on this album felt as if they were speaking to me directly.

“There’s a land that I see where the children are free
And I say it ain’t far to this land from where we are
Take my hand, come with me, where the children are free
Come with me, take my hand, and we’ll live” — Marlo Thomas

I felt compelled to run away. I wrote a note. I packed a small bag. I made a plan.

I was going to go to school that day, then I’d come home, eat a snack (of course) and get out. I was a latchkey kid so I would have time to finalize preparations and leave my note.

When I got home, though, my mom was there. I came in confused which quickly turned to panic when I realized she was holding my note. My aunt had come over during the day and I had left my note on the counter.

My mom was angry. Really angry. She yelled, “You are not going anywhere, you are staying right here!”

When you find out your kid wants to run away from you, your reaction shouldn’t be anger.

I was grounded for my thoughts. I was grounded for writing.

I’m not comfortable talking about how I am brave.

I’m comfortable staying right here.

Thank you for reading.

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Forgiving is for quitters?

I started counseling recently. It was very difficult just getting in the door for the first visit. I didn’t want to go. I was holding on to beliefs that didn’t make any sense. Simultaneously, I knew that I needed to go.

Podcasts. I joked that I don’t listen to podcasts but I do. A lot of them. Mostly dealing with psychology and therapy and brain chemistry and the list goes on. They all said the same thing. Do the work. Get the counseling or therapy, or get on meds if you need them. Do. The. Work.

My counselor gave me this.

It came with a series of pages that I have to fill out. That was three weeks ago. I haven’t done it. I’m doing it today. What would I like to achieve in 2023? I would like to fill out these pages and quit holding on to the past. As the title suggests. Forgiving is for quitters.

Thanks for reading.

Happy New Year.