Around the bend...

The update itself doesn't really have anything to do with Christmas Eve, by the way. I just happen to have a little time on my hands today.

I guess I've been a little bummed out for the past few weeks. It doesn't usually happen to me during the holidays--I look forward to the kids getting their gifts on Christmas morning. I remember being a kid and feeling a little guilty about getting presents. One of my brothers got a bike and I remember thinking "Wow--we can't afford that!" Now, it makes me think of the movie It's a Wonderful Life, which is a great movie, but a little depressing, don't you think?

No, it isn't depression--This time of year just naturally makes me nostalgic and sentimental. The irony is that some day this is the time I'll be nostalgic for...

Some people I know are really awesome at giving great gifts. That's definitely a talent. My best gift to give this year was going to be to write a story for Ryan about the time during the summer when he hit a home run. It was really dramatic--he had struck out every time at bat the game before, and came home crying and saying that he didn't want to play baseball anymore. Then, he struck out again at his next at-bat--he was crushed, and my heart really went out to him. Finally, he was down to his last strike and struck out again, except that the coach on the other team, in a rare move, stopped the game and gave him another chance because the pitching machine malfunctioned. Ryan caught the last pitch and sent it over the heads of the opposing team, to the back fence. He easily rounded the bases for a home run! It made me so proud that he didn't give up, and kept fighting back with determination. Yeah, that would have been a great gift...if I had finished writing it.

Work has been pretty good for me over the past few months. It's taken me out of town a few times, which I enjoy for brief periods. Plane trips seem to be like short stories to me--Purposeful, dramatic, and with a beginning and end. If you keep your eyes open, you can see different characters out of their ordinary habitat--these days, flying is a stressful situation, so it's interesting to see what people do. I listened to my Ipod the other day and just felt a peace with the world for a few minutes, tuning out everyone around me. For a time, the peace just felt so wonderful.

I got a telephone call from an old friend a month or so ago--I'm not sure if I mentioned this, but I am an Eagle Scout. Protocol sort of dictates that you don't say "I was an Eagle Scout when I was a kid"--it is actually an honor that is supposed to stay with you for your whole life. I was 14, for God's sake, and it seems a lifetime ago. Well, the call was an invitation to a reunion of all the Eagle Scouts that have ever come from the same troop. I was number eight, and now there are over two hundred. The reunion is in two weeks--should be an interesting time, maybe worth writing about when I get back. I hope I don't just feel pathetic sitting there as one of the "old dudes". I didn't go to my high school reunions, so this will be a new experience for me.

At this time of year, I like to plan what I'm going to do for next year. It usually comes to me as a whole year laid out like a child's oval train track, and I can see the different seasons and just put events in their place--this is the part of the year where I'll take the kids fishing...Why don't we plan a trip out of town here...Maybe we could go to San Antonio...Can I go back to Maine in the summer? When I was in San Diego, an acquaintence invited me to go Marlin fishing in the Pacific next year--should I go? I'm a shameless over-planner, but I try to leave a cushion to live in the moment when things come up.

I can't do it this year--I'm trying as hard as I can, but I can't see past the first turn in the bend. This could create a sense of excitement, promise, opportunity. Or a sense of dread and fear of the unknown. Almost like I'm so bound to the train itself that I can't rise above it to see the big picture--the whole track and where we are ultimately headed. Or driving in fog, only seeing things develop in the immediacy of the moment. It feels out of control and nerve-wracking, and I have a sense of foreboding for the coming year--why can't I see what's coming? Could I ever really see it, or was my planning a false mask of control over an uncontrollable future which gave me a sense of security? Maybe I'm just facing reality in a more open fashion. Either way, the train rolls on.