Dearest Betsy...

I thought of you today.

I seriously doubt you ever think of me.

I don't know how the conversation got to that point but there you were.

And next thing I know I am rambling on about you, and Tom (I really do not remember his name), and Pizza Hut and everything.

I realized one thing at the end of my rant....I am the exact guy I want my daughter to never know.

We ran it into the ground at a break-neck pace.

What were we? Eighteen? Nineteen?

That cigar box full of shake in my glove box. Rolling joints in the middle of the night on our way up North, to wake at first light in the front seat for the dawn patrol at The Inlet.

Late night drinking by whichever landmark you can think of. The airport. That gator infested lake in the middle of that empty field alongside those buildings.

I remember falling asleep while making out with you in front of my crappy apartment.

You were one of what I would grow realize to be a long string of girls, and eventually women, that wanted nothing more than to be loved, and I was that guy that took everything and left.

You were not the first one I walked on, and sadly, you would not be the last.

And maybe that is now my penance for being That Guy.

I was what is now my worst nightmare for my own daughter.

That V8 in my T-37 would rip the rubber right off the tires if I let it, and I let it do so often.

Rusty, rough, fast, reckless, I was a lot back then.

So were you.

And so was that T-37.

Long may you run, long live the warm nights, the youth that went too fast, the cars that went faster, the waves, the weed, the drinks, and the organic matter.

And may God forgive us all for our idiocy.

There's salt in that oil...I swear....

The reality of economic times has begun to sink in at work.

Losing money.

Hemmoraging actually.

Like someone cut the jugular with a fillet knife.

With friends of mine going down and my own future uncertain, stress has begun to take it's toll.

Now...don't get all worried....I do not believe I am going anywhere....but there are no guarantees...and I am very aware of that.

In the history of my life there has always been one place I could go to get a grip, to see things from a healthy perspective, to be reminded of what I really care about, of what is important to me.

Now at the risk of upsetting my lovikins.....I must admit....it has never been a place of accompaniment, but of one of solitude.

The ocean has fed my hunger, quenched my thirst, and given to my soul more than any place I have ever known.

Sitting upon the warm waters, the cold waters, sun on my bare back, rain on my neoprene'd shoulders, salt on my lips, mist in my ...well...I have no hair....

The incredible peacefulness provided by some simple physics and timing. The glide across the water. The brutal punishment of being our of sync. The burning of tired shoulders and sun burned retinas.

The incredible release of laying a weary, salt/sun drenched body down to only dream about another day...one more wave....

One more.

I can remember mom standing on the beach growing impatient wanting to leave the beach and get on with more important things. My friends beckoning me. Girlfriends, and later, women, glaring at me as I looked away and with one finger in the air proclaimed..."one more!". As if they could hear me, audibly, or in any other way.

I always spoke a different language. The syntax was the same, the words correctly pronounced, but for some reason, nobody ever understood.

Times are different these days.

I live 90 minutes form the beach. Burning a bad day off in the water with the setting sun is a lot more involved than it once was.

So much has to go into this act of self indulged penance that it is often more than I can muster on a weekend let alone in the throws of a stress filled afternoon.

However, there is still one place I can go.

It ain't quiet.

But somehow it manages to provide a piece of that wonderment, of solitude, of self indulgence.

Simply put, there is not much that wrapping your self around 88 cubic inches of flat black and chrome will not put to rest.

Especially when you run up into the triple digits.

So here is to this life.

Here is to those moments that give to each of us in our time.

Here is to the remembering, the clarity, the sight, of what should truly matter to each of us...or not....after all...it is your life...not mine.

Going back. Again.

This love/hate.
This on again/off again.
The longest standing love affair of my life.

When will I get it right?

Every damn love song could be applied here.

Well, maybe not Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.

Then again....

I seriously doubt I am the only one who has struggled with this over and over and over again.

It drives me nuts.

I wish I could walk away.

I wish I could dive in head first.

Anywhere but in the middle.

This limbo...my purgatory.

A handful of outings in the last year.

Then one outing in crappy conditions, and I am all in.

Again.

There should be a 12 step program.

Here we go.

For the last time.

Again.

Magnetic orbs and change.

We had to get away for a weekend.

It has been a while since my brother could no longer be contained in this world.

A year of change from the get go.

Every week, sometimes daily, we are reminded of the change that surrounds us.

Selling a house.
Buying a house.
Planning a wedding.
Friends coming and going.
Friends being challenged by change.
My daughter...our girl....being challenged by change.
Loved ones checking out.

We had to get away for a weekend.

The funny thing is, the getting away, will likely result in more change....at some point.

J and I in the sun.

Hmm...the sun does not change, but it brings change.

Powerful orb.

Some winters kill

When the sun is bright, and the nights are long, we can all breathe easy.

Music rings about our every move, every smile, every dream.

But when the sun sinks to the South, and the nights become longer, we pull in close to one another.

The weight of the world comes down, washing our sins away, or blanketing us in slowness.

Where there was once warmth, there is now frost, snow, and ice.

During these long nights we long for the levity of Summer, the birth of Spring.

Fall has always been my favorite time. The change into the long sleep of winter.

But this coming Fall I will feel it differently, now that I understand that some winters kill.

Comfortably numb.

I promised you I would sing for you, and I did.

Sorry it started off so rocky, however I think I finished it up real well.

I felt you there as my voice filled in.

I am sorry I could not sing earlier, however when it mattered, the opening lines of Amazing Grace crushed me under your weight.

Crushed me in your love and the greatness of who you are.

Your brother.

See you later Pilgrim.

I am just a pilgrim on this road, boys
I am just a pilgrim on this road,
I am just a pilgrim on this road,
But this ain't never been my home.

Sometimes the road was rocky ‘long the way, boys
Sometimes the road was rocky ‘long the way,
Sometimes the road was rocky ‘long the way,
But I was never travelin' it alone .

We'll meet again on some bright highway
Songs to sing and tales to tell
But I am just a pilgrim on this road, boys
Until I see you fare thee well

Ain't no need to cry for me, boys
There ain't no need to cry for me,
There ain't no need to cry for me,
Somewhere down the road you'll understand.

‘Cause I expect to touch his hand, boys
For I expect to touch his hand,
‘Cause I expect to touch his hand,
Put a word in for you if I can.

We'll meet again on some bright highway
Songs to sing and tales to tell
But I am just a pilgrim on this road, boys
Until I see you fare thee well

(words by Steve Earle - "Pilgrim")

Click To Play