Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The Genie took a survey...

One day, a certain Genie had a little time on his hands and decided to take a survey to see if people knew the meaning of 'rich'.

He asked three people the same question: Do you want to be 'rich'?

Answer #1 "No, I don't want to be rich, I just want to have enough MONEY to...and proceeded to tell what he would do with the money. Poof. He became a successful unrich person.

Answer #2 "Yes, I'm going to work my patootie off, work my way up and then I'll have enough MONEY to do whatever I want to. Poof. He became a successfully hard working individual.

Answer #3 "No, 'rich' has nothing to do with Money, it has to do with gratitude. Poof He got an overflowing cup of wealth and became a philanthropist.

Moral of the Story: Think before you 'wish'...'somebody' may be listening.

What's a...serious side?

Once in awhile, I stop trying to develop my own 'character' (which is like trying to stop a flood with my bare hands), and work on developing 'fictional characters'. So I go to the my Mind Gym for a workout...it's fun there and a great way to exercise. Mental gymnastics? Dumbells included? Gosh, I'd be right at home.

Anyhoo, I took a writing class awhile back (I can see 'disbelief' written all over your face), and worked with fantasy characters like: Mortimer P Snodgrass, the fly on the wall, etc. I won't elaborate 'cause Sylvia says once in awhile I can be a little 'over the top'.

One day, I was sitting thinking (which I find is relaxing) and the idea struck me...."Why don't you try writing something 'different, dummy." Trust me...my imagination and me had a 'discussion' about that one later. I don't like being struck.

I wrote this. Why am I posting it? Dunno. Why not? It goes like this...

Lost and Alone
John Victor Crocker
Alone is being an only child in a town where you are not related to anyone...except by marriage.
Alone is having no friends of your own that you can phone or who phone you...except by marriage.
Alone is sitting at a gathering of family and friends and feeling like an outsider because everyone is talking about things that you were not a part of...but they were. You can contribute nothing to the conversation. So you listen...and everyone thinks you are...quiet.
No one knows you...because no one knows what's in your heart...no one knows the tears that well up inside. You are alone for you have not one to share it with. You are boring...and alone. What excites you does not excite others. And you listen to their excitement.
You feel the tears but they are translated as anger. Hurt is what you feel. Alone and alone and alone. Who can you talk to about these things? No one. So you think, and your tears remain inside. The only way you can release them is by laughing...and you are deemed a fool. Dumbie they call you...weird one.
So what is different? You have felt lost and alone all your life. Your life has become an act...and you don't tell your truth because you are afraid you will be misunderstood. Your mask that you wear remains a 'mask'.
Sometimes you have hope. Where are the smiles...for you? You know that you are loving...but others see you as cold. How can you explain? Can you sit down and talk about your deepest feelings? No...you are alone. Together with others...but alone.
Alone has become your middle name. You join groups and conversations and try to be an insider but always you are left with the feelng of being an outsider. You have your passion and it is the one thing that is left for you.
You have so much love to give and yet you feel...alone. It is always, always, in all ways...you who are alone. They don't understand you just as you don't understand them.
You talk at people..but have lost the art of 'talking with someone'. You miss that. You are a romantic with poetry in your heart but still you are ...alone. You want to shout to the world, "Here I am." But you sit on the sidelines watching others. At sometimes you feel helpless...other times you're angry. Why can't you say the right things and make them understand you the way that you try to understand them.
The soul of you, is the soul who knows what it is to love life and be alone. Now the only way you can write is to be.. alone. "Alone isthe creed you live by and the flag you bear. It is hidden in the creases in your forehead and no one cares.
You write because you must. It is the only way you can express yourself and the love you feel. Even if it is taken wrong...it is something you must do...alone.
And then the dance class was over. My fingers got a good workout doing the cha cha across the keyboard. And now I'm going to have some ice cream. That was fun!

Monday, June 21, 2010

What's in a name...?????

Once upon a time, a few years ago, an 'older' man name John was playing with his keyboard. He used to ask it questions and it would give him some unusual answers...sometimes.

Anyhoo. One day, he decided to ask it a 'burning question' (he ususually has a bookoo bunch of them) so his fingers got busy and thus began the 'dialogue with the keyboard'.

John: Hey you up there, 'ya got a name? I can't keep referring to you as Hey You Up There...it doesn't work for me.

Keyboard: Yep.

John: OK. Now don't be funny. I asked a simple question and expect a simple answer and Yep isn't the one I was looking for.

Keyboard: OK back. What name just crossed your mind?

Now John thought and no name in particular came up...until...Sarah? He, at that point didn't know any Sarah's...except the one in the Bible. Then his mind flew back to an incident at a department store a week earlier.

Sylvia had given him a 'mission'. Buy a dozen cloth diapers so she could use them for cleaning.
While he was at the check out counter, the clerk looked at the diapers and then at John and winked. "Do you think your wife is trying to tell you something?", she asked.

He caught the 'meaning' and being a quick quipper, he retorted, "At our age, I'm not Abraham and she's not Sarah." And he remembered that they both laughed.

John: Sarah?

Keyboard: Works for me.

John: But the 'h' is silent. Do you mind if I shorten it to 'Sara' ?

Keyboard: Works for me.

That's how John came to name his imagination Sara. A week later...two friends from two different states email him and gave him an introduction to Abraham.

So what's the point of this story? Don't ask me...ask Sara. Sometimes... I'm only 'fingers flying across the keyboard'. I can't wait to 'see' what I'm gonna type next. I have those days...sometimes. What a team!

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Sylvia Romanelli Crocker...the 'foundation'

Once upon a time...1980 to be exact, John and Sylvia met. And it all began with the words "Que sera sera" (which is Italian for 'whatever will be...will be). But that's another story... 'Sylvia story' that she laughed about...later. Much later...because at the time she didn't think it was very funny.

Anyhow, because of those words, in the space of 3 months, a miracle happened! Two people who by an 'opinion poll' might be voted "The Least Likely To Get Hooked Up" met, became 'best friends', courted, fell in love...and got married. And to make the story more 'unlikely'...10 months later that got married AGAIN! This time in Church.

Sylvia and John 'on the surface' didn't appear to have 'that' much in common...other than they both loved to laugh and both loved to dance. In fact the song that played when Syl walked down the aisle in church was...you guessed it! "Can I Have This Dance For The Rest Of My Life."

Over the course of the years they had their share of 'disagreements' over the little things. That's what's called 'marriage'. But because they were able to communicate about the big things, they were a 'team' that grew...closer together.

She was the 'foundation' that made their house a home. Maybe not a 'palace' but she made any 'castle' they lived in... a 'home'. He, as 'king of the castle', was the primary 'let's keep a roof over our head' dude. She laughed and thought he was funny...sometimes. Two people who used to say...often, to each other. "I don't care what you say, your not going to change me" and they didn't...and didn't even try. But little by little, changes came about...and they 'grew' together.

She knew his 'dreams'. He knew hers. Now the time has come when she's no longer here with him. His biggest wish is to 'make her dreams come true. And by cracky, he'll do it...or his name ain't Crocker. Some may think he's a little 'off' but he knows he's right ON track. This 'fairy tale' may have an ending...but the LOVE story doesn't.

PS: (A 'fairy tale' doesn't generally have a PS...but this one does 'cause I ain't perfect)
The picture in this story is of Sylvia holding our 'baby', Cherokee Elvis. What's she doing? Clowning around and wearing her 'Elvis' glasses that came from Las Vegas,
(where else) Like I wrote to her in her Easter card..."The best is yet to come." And I know what I'm aiming for. 'Shoot for the moon' has ONE meaning. Focus

Thursday, June 3, 2010

My way of 'grief management'...

If anyone wonders why I keep talking about my 'deceased' wife the way I do...then it's the way I handle my 'loss' and it makes ME feel better. I reach for every thought that makes it possible.

Syl used to say that 'you have to cry it out'. Well...I do that too. Sometimes I'm like a blubbering idiot when I think of not being able to 'hold' her in my arms and comfort her, to 'see' her smile, to 'hear' her laugh. That's when she comforts me and tells me that she's alright. LOVE is not about 'the physical'.

It makes me FEEL better to celebrate her life rather than mourn her death. It turns each day into something special. Good mourning? I don't think that 'animal' exists.
But a good morning/mourning is the way I begin each day. I don't know when the tears will come...but I reach for the 'thought' that FEELS better.

I talk about all the things I've learned from her, about the people that are in my life BECAUSE of her, and I still 'communicate' with her...but in a different way.
My life is different, of course...but I'll get through whatever comes along just by reaching for the 'best thoughts' that make me FEEL better. My way of handling it may not be the 'perfect way'...but it's my way. And my grief? It's not what I get that counts...it's what I do with it.

The day Syl and I were married and became ONE is still one of the best days of my life. Nothing is going to change that...not even a casket. Thanks, honey. I love you more today than I did yesterday...and less then I will tomorrow.