Virtual Rants

Snapshots

For some, it is four firemen atop a mound of ruble raising the American flag.

For some it is the smoldering wound in the Pentagon.

For others it's a scarred and charred field in Pennsylvania.

For many, it is a ball of fire erupting from the columns that had reached so high, as if to support the heavens.

For those closest to this tragedy, it is a picture of a daughter, or a father or a friend.

Snapshots: A reference to a moment frozen in time. It needn't be a photograph, it could be anything, a wedding ring, a favorite mug, an empty parking space, or a calendar turned from August to September. For me, my snapshot is a phantom, a picture that I saw once and have never seen again.

In the days following this horrific attack, I looked for order in the midst of chaos. I turned to the TV to bring me the latest information; someone saved, someone caught, some sense of justice, or a small glimmer of hope. And during the first few of days of non-stop images, I saw the image that haunts me to this day. It was a still shot of a lone worker in the immediate aftermath of the devastation, setting a flag upside-down, the international symbol for "ship in distress."

To see our flag used in such a way was truly humbling. To see the strongest nation the world has ever known brought to her knees left me in doubt.

I may never know if I really saw that picture flash across the screen, or if it was my projection. It was, after all, the picture that best summed up how I was feeling.

For some time the mention of 9/11 brought back the image of that shot, and all of the feelings that came with it. Isolation, despair, fear and distress.

Almost three years have passed, and the picture in my mind grows ever more dim, as do the feelings associated with it. New pictures are emerging to take its place. A child reading the names of those who were taken that day. A song on my child's lips, expressing his love for this country. And the picture of our nation, up, off of her knees, at the helm of our destiny ready to sail again. This is the picture that best sums up my feelings now.

What was your snapshot? What is it now?

Note: I had originally intended to post this on 9/11/04, but memories don't wait for anniversaries.

Fortunes

When you compare your life to another's, you invariably feel fortunate because of someone's troubles, or troubled because of someone's fortunes.

How do you judge your life?

Which came first: the sickness or the edge?

You have to.

No!

Colterrrrrr!

Its not fair.

Its not a question of fair. You just have to do it ... now!

Why won't you listen?

I have listened, and we just keep covering the same ground over and over. You just need to do it now…

Etc.

Etc.

Etc.

Eventually there is crying and yelling and on a bad day, there is slamming the door, taking away a privilege and I'm "the meanest Dad in the whole world."

That was four days ago.

Then three days ago it got worse.

Two days ago everything blew up, and I took away all privileges forever (or so it must have seemed to Colter).

Yesterday, all was calm. The conflict had peaked and petered out. A contrite (well, maybe regretful) Colter offered his drink to me, asked "please" and said "Thank you, Daddy."

Today he is coughing and sneezing. Today he is sick.

This is the pattern. It repeats itself several times a year. But it is a hard pattern to recognize. Two days into it, it seems like just a bad couple of days. At the end of four days, I'm so frazzled that I couldn't recognize a pattern if it were tattooed on my forearm. So I quickly forgive myself for not seeing it coming. How was I to know he was becoming sick? And I quickly forgive Colter. His vitality was fading and that made him cranky.

Now my question is this: Is he getting cranky for four to five days before a cold or flu, or is the stress of the conflict suppressing his immune system and allowing him to succumb?

Strangers reading about my life

Why on earth would you blog? Why do you want total strangers reading about your life? I don't get it!

These are the words that I spoke to my wife when she started her blog (MomintheMirror) almost a year ago. She set up a blog for me as well (I like to think of myself as a writer worth reading), and after one failed attempt at posting, I quit.

Then she recently published one of my essays on her blog, (What he was thinking...), and the responses floored me. They liked what I had to say and they liked my writing style as well. I won't bore you with the responses, but here is my return correspondence to one of the commentators:

I am usually very slow at returning correspondence, unless it is work-related, but I have my wife's reputation to think about, not just my own. That is why I am having her proofread this before I send it out:

I understand now why Julie blogs. The comments that I read, when directed at her, make me feel great. But it is a horse of a different tune, when the comments are directed at me. It is a veritable equine symphony. What a rush!

Thanks for the kind words,

Gary

So this is why I blog, for the adoration. And while I'll only post once or twice a week, I still happen to think of myself as a writer worth reading... but that will be for you to decide.

What do you get out of blogging?