Life Unraveled

Sometimes I wish we could all hear exactly how we sound to each other. I thought this as I was leaving a crowded shopping center the other day, when the walk to retrieve my bicycle became an unwanted front-row seat for an epic shouting match between a man and woman sitting on a bench nearby. It started softly, with my ears barely registering a "d id he just call her that ?" moment, and quickly ramped up to a full-on verbal assault that could not be ignored. My stomach dropped through the floor as the man hurtled one obscenity after another at this woman, each one more startling than the one before (and most definitely nothing I want to repeat here). By the time I realized that something had to be done to stop this, which was probably only about twenty seconds and a truckload of vulgarity later, the security folks were on the scene to break it up. Call it what you will. Lovers quarrel. Holiday stress. Inappropriate behavior to the max. Whatever. The whole scene l

Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Douglas, and welcome to my home on the Christmas tree farm! Yes, it's that time of year again, when crowds of people walk the aisles here in search of that perfect holiday masterpiece.  This season is the reason for my existence, actually. I'm not sure how many holiday seasons I have lived through, but there have been many. I guess if I could see the rings in my own trunk it might be something like ten years, even though it feels much longer. Ever since I was a young fir, I have dreamed of hitting the big time. I have witnessed so many of my family members achieving greatness, dragged away one by one, bound by ropes and tied snugly to the roofs of various automobiles. It might sound barbaric to you, but to us it signifies something wonderful.  You see, on this farm we are all raised with the same dream. We all aspire to be in your home at Christmastime . We all want to be decked out in gaudy tinsel and garland. We a

I'm never sure what to say when people ask me if I am ready for Christmas.  I guess I'm not even sure what kind of question that really is.  What do I have to get ready for ?  Am I supposed to be stressed out or something?  I don't get it.  So I normally reply with one simple word:  Sure.   Saves alot of explanation for me.  It has been a long time since I've felt the enormous weight of the holidays on my shoulders.  I used to go into a state of perpetual panic with regards to gifts.  I had my list every year, and would methodically go about buying everything on it, hoping that everyone would be happy with whatever doo-dad and doo-hickey I could find for them.  Then one year, while staring blankly at my page-long obligatory shopping list, I just knew I was done.  Done with the worrying, done with the crowds, and done with the gifts.  None of it made sense to me anymore.  It's not that I didn't love my family and friends.  And it wasn't that I feared s

I noticed something on Thanksgiving day.  I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed and hitting the "like" button on pretty much every other post I saw.  I was thoroughly enjoying my virtual Thanksgiving as I perused a ton of thankful posts, expressing gratitude on everything from the joys of eating cranberry sauce from a can, to hearing a small child express what he was grateful for at the holiday dinner table.  All of it made me smile.  I began hitting the "like" button as if it were my job, and I must say I liked it.  Alot .  It was clear to me that everything is exactly what we make it to be.  On Thankful Thursday, Facebook became a tool that (by and large) was used to spread joy, gratitude and love.  I think sometimes it can be easy to forget that through this one website we are able to connect with each other in ways that can actually be uplifting and profound.  Amidst the daily jokes, rants and raves, something deeper is happening here.  We learn about

Sometimes I swear I can hear my grandmother's voice.  Tonight as I maneuverd my way through the busy mall, I could swear she was right there with me.  I'm not sure what triggered this particular visit.  But as I strolled along, I knew that I was not alone.  Not by a long shot.  My mom's mom, or Nani as all of her grandkids affectionately referred to her, was right there with me every step of the way.   It wasn't like a flood of memories came rushing back and brought her to mind.  No, it was more like her whole presence was there with me.  Still is now in fact.  I can feel it .  Nani has been gone from this earth for a long time, about 18 years or so if I am not mistaken.  I think of her often, and she visits me in my dreams quite a bit.  To say that I think she is watching over me most of the time is probably very accurate, at least as much as these things can be.  I don't know how I know.  I just do.  For whatever reason, tonight I am very sure of it.  I can

We are all hiding something.  I am convinced of this.  Fact is, we are probably hiding more than we care to admit.  I contemplated this when I heard about the sex scandal surrounding Jerry Sandusky and Penn State.  I don't want to rehash any of the sordid details.  I will leave it to the media to air out all of the dirty laundry, since that is what they appear to do best.  No, what I really want to consider is how any human being can hide such indignities.  How can anyone smile, laugh, go about their daily business, and portray himself as a do-gooder when behind the scenes he was attacking and violating young boys?  And almost as shockingly, nobody seemed to have a clue as to what was really happening there.  At least they never admitted it, let alone tried to stop it.  Not his wife.  Not his friends.  Not Joe Paterno.  Nobody .  I could sit and judge this whole episode until I am blue in the face.  We all could.  Assuming all allegations are true, there is certainly no excusin

Looking back on a day that got away: 7:40am:  Woke up after 9 hours of sleep.  Felt fresh, ready for the day, and proclaimed to myself that it was gonna be a great one.  8:30am:  Made some coffee.  Fully caffeinated too, not the wimpy half-caf I have gotten used to.  Loved every sip.  The energy was building.  Yep, it was gonna be a good day. 10:00am:  Arrived at work.  Surveyed the situation.  Co-workers feeling sick.  One never even showed up.  Who cares!  I can carry everyone.  Maybe it was the caffeine talking, but I was convinced.  It was gonna be a good day, damn it.  Laughed and chatted with some regular customers.  So far, so good.  12:30pm:  Been on the register for hours.  Short-handed staff.  Non-stop line.  Coffee buzz wearing off.  Getting hungry.  Maybe I just need to sit down for a few minutes.  And oh by the way, is it me or does every customer seem really needy and whiny today?  Suddenly everyone seems to be having a bad day, and wants to take it out on me.  I

Here is the scenario:  a young man drops a stack of books as he is walking by you.  He may or may not have been distracted by his cell phone as they come crashing to the ground.  Maybe he was just in a hurry, who knows.  Do you: a) Stop whatever you are doing and help him pick them up, b) Observe it all but still keep walking, or c) Have no reaction completely. You missed the whole thing.  Heck, you have your own crap going on! Such was the social experiment being conducted for a psychology class by a collegiate friend of mine and her fellow classmates earlier this week in busy downtown Honolulu.  One member of the group would walk along innocently and get distracted, dropping his books and papers into a messy pile on the sidewalk.  Then the real fun begins.  Time to observe the reactions!  I sat and watched probably ten rounds of this little "candid camera" moment.  What did I see?  Well, more often than not, people stopped to help this young man gather his belonging

There is so much to be grateful for.  I love when I realize it at the strangest times. Yesterday was a typically hectic Friday morning at work (does everybody want coffee on Fridays or what?).  So there I was taking orders, chatting with our regulars, and swinging back and forth between probably ten different tasks when I bent down to open the small refrigerator that holds our breakfast sandwiches.  As I opened it, a singular thought scrolled through my head, as if someone was actually whispering the words directly in my ear, loud enough to be heard over the music and din of conversation that was erupting all around me.   It was this: I am so grateful to have this job.      Wow, I thought.  I  am grateful. This realization helped keep me focused and light all the way through the morning rush, long after my espresso buzz had ceased.   Now I will admit, I have worked many a morning without even feeling remotely grateful for my job.  That is the ugly truth.  But on this day, he

I didn't know Steve Jobs.   In fact, before today I hadn't given him much thought.  Of course I knew he was the Apple guy.  I also knew he was the Macintosh guy back in the day, when I was a precocious second-grader and would spend hours playing "Lemonade Stand" on one of his bigger-than-a-breadbox creations from the 80's.  I knew he was a rich man, perhaps the richest of them all.  But today upon hearing of his passing, I read some of his quotes.  It was then that I realized, hey, maybe I do know Steve Jobs.  Maybe we all do.  And no, I'm not smoking anything.  I heard the news of his passing via Facebook.  That is pretty much how I get all of my news these days.  I looked at Facebook on my smartphone, and while I do not own the iconic I-Phone, the device I used was undoubtedly inspired by Mr. Jobs' creations at Apple.  I scrolled through many of my friends' posts, all wishing him godspeed.  Then I read his quotes.  I was moved to watch the comme

Last Thursday, I was strolling into work mid-morning when I heard a regular female customer make the following announcement upon seeing me: "There he is!  We were just talking about you, Paul." To me, that is never a good thing.  It almost always implies guilt on the part of the speaker, especially when no further explanation is offered up.  Such was the case this time, and so I smiled and nodded a quick "oh really?" response, and kept on trucking to the back room.  When I came back out onto the floor to start my shift, I was pulled aside by my co-worker Corona, who had been a part of this little conversation about moi.    "You know what that customer just said about you?" she asked.   I looked at her.  Not a clue.  But now I had to know.    "She was just asking me what you were going to do with the rest of your life." Oh, really?   Or should I say (more appropriately), OH REALLY???????!!!! My initial impulse was to become enra

I had to wait until I was around 24 years old to get my first pet.  Her name was Molly, and she was a gift from a visiting fraternity brother to my roommate Tom and I back in the late 90s.  I know, some visitors just buy you dinner, maybe a bottle of wine or case of beer, and call it quits.  But not Mike.  He was staying for about two weeks or so, and he wanted company while we were away at work.  And besides, Tom and I had been scouting dogs for awhile.  We both wanted one, and with the social scene for twenty-something guys in Atlanta seeming to involve having a dog and parading her all over town, it just made sense for us to scour the pound in search of the perfect pup.  Mike agreed, and next thing you know, Molly was ours. Molly was a mutt in every sense.  She had a beagle face, complete with the soft floppy ears and big brown eyes of that particular breed, but with a long shepherd-like body and markings.   She was skinny, never weighing in at more than twenty pounds if I remembe