Wow! When I saw today’s question, I thought, “That’s strange. How do you un-invent something?” Then I thought, where did the term un-invention come from anyway? Then I thought, what the heck kind of term is un-invent?
So, I checked the term out. My efforts were interesting, to say the least. First, I used the term uninvent as I had not noticed the prompt used “un-invent.” For some reason, the result was to change all the language on my screen to French. I could have taken the time to interpret some of the information, but I was fairly certain what I would find.
After a couple of tries, I managed to return the screen language to English. Then, I continued to investigate the question of where the term originated. My little investigation led to a post about twice this long, but after making several attempts to wrap it up, I realized this was, to me at least, an exercise in futility.
I don’t want to uninvent anything. If something is detrimental to me, you, or society in general, we need to meet it head-on and deal with it. Of course, the problem then is agreeing on which hot-button issue of the day needs our attention. So, my final thought for today:
Today’s writing challenge is to share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved. As one might expect, responses have ranged from something akin to; no one’s ever loved me, to You can’t beat the love of a pet.
I can recognize and empathize with both of those positions. While I’ve never felt completely unloved, there were plenty of times when those who should have loved me didn’t. At least, if they did love me, they made certain I never felt it.
I noted in a previous post that I have a beautiful wife who loves me and beautiful daughters who are not ashamed to admit I was their father. That is a great feeling. Still, it is just a feeling.
So, what is my point here? Feelings are all we have. Whether one is an old retired cop who spent over three decades looking at everyone suspiciously or a young man who loves his puppy, feelings are all we have. Even if the feeling was wrong, as many of us learned the hard way, feeling loved is important.
I buried that feeling pretty deep as a child and later as a young man because of the way my family and others treated me. For years, I thought love was nonexistent, at least among humans. So, my relationships were often shallow and suspect.
Thankfully, some things I learned about loving others as a child never left me. I might have been unable to receive, but I remembered how to give and forgive. What I remembered kept me from hiding myself in my little fortress of suspicion and fear. Otherwise, I would never have been able to feel love again.
As I found out, with a lot of help, somewhere inside us, that innocent little child that the world attempted to destroy still exists. If that child is still with us, there is a chance to feel loved again. If I could, anyone can.
If someone asked you, “Where can you reduce clutter in your life,” what would you think? Many people reading this were asked that question recently. I received the prompt just before I went to bed last night.
Somewhere between reading it late last night and when I opened my laptop this morning, a synapse or two misfired. I remembered the question as, “What can you do to reduce clutter in your life?” Accordingly, my sarcastic persona kicked in, and my working title was “One Person’s Clutter?”
If you haven’t had your daily coffee to get your system going, that working title was a play on words. I was headed down the path of writing something, opining that one person’s clutter is another person’s treasure.
I can be forgiven for confusing the issue, as my thoughts were not on writing today. My thoughts were on the 6:45 am laser surgery on my dominant eye. In fact, I started writing the piece I deleted a few minutes ago in the waiting area of the surgery center.
Yes, I arose at 5:30 am this morning to brave a chill factor of -20 degrees Fahrenheit to make my appointment with my ophthalmologist. There, she would blast the inside of my eye with a laser. Since I had the other done last week when the temperature was in the 50s, I was prepared but still concerned.
When your high-priced doctor is sitting there looking through a high-powered microscope shooting laser beams into your eye, and the equipment chirps every time she pulls the trigger, you feel like a character in a video game. Of course, this is after she places a “lens” on your eyeball that pries your eyelids open and makes everything look even weirder.
All right! Enough whining about my ophthalmology assault and the resulting confusion of my septuagenarian brain. Let’s get back to where I can reduce clutter in my life. First, though, we need to clarify what we mean by clutter.
As any red-blooded American male who loves cars or motorcycles knows, you never throw away anything related to the maintenance or repair of a vehicle. You will need it the day after you toss out the unused whatever. Then you will drive to a hardware or auto parts store and be forced to buy twenty of whatever you thought you didn’t need.
I tell my wife, “Honey, it’s not junk or clutter; it’s an emergency backup item in a disaster. The same goes for the boxes full of computer and video-related items stored under the table in my home office. I can sell some of those things online, or someone might need one, and I can help them. They’re not junk or clutter. They are potential garage sale items or replacements for something that might break down.
Of course, there is one area of my life I could take a close look at that would help with some forms of clutter: extended family and friends. However, I haven’t found the best way to approach that subject with my wife.
I’m not certain I have ever been asked the question, “What is your favorite animal?” However, the challenge today is to answer that question, and unlike some such questions, there was no hesitation when I thought, humans!
The funny thing is that my answer would have been the same if the question was to identify my least favorite animal. If your response to my words so far is negative, I can certainly understand.
Most of us do not look into the mirror every morning and think, I am an animal. Nor do we look lovingly at our children and think., “Those are little animals.” At least, we don’t normally think of them that way.
On the other hand, I’m fairly certain my parents and some of my teachers in my younger days thought I might be a throwback of some sort. I certainly thought my little brother was an animal at times.
So, why would I claim to have chosen humans as my favorite animal? Well, the simplest answer is it was a copout of sorts. After all, did the person posing the question mean my favorite animal to roast in the oven or perhaps grill in the backyard? If I’d gone down that route, it might have upset those who feel it is wrong to consume animals.
Of course, claiming humans are animals could offend some who believe humans are not animals because they were created by God. For the record, I believe humans were created by God, but I also believe He created the other animals as well. He just made us special, and I fear He might regret that at times. And that takes me back to the point of this piece.
Humans are my favorite animals because we are different from other animals. Whether that difference is good or bad is hard to know for certain. However, my understanding is the Bible makes it clear. Humans will be judged at some point in the future, and I feel many of us will be judged unworthy of entering God’s Kingdom.
Okay! Two days in a row, the Bloganuary Muse tossed me a softball! In this case, the prompt was to reflect on a memorable road trip. Trying to recall my most memorable road trip could be a bit of a challenge. As an adult and a child, I have road-tripped, depending on how you want to define the term, in some fantastic places.
My road trips include one from Seattle, Washington, deep into British Columbia, several trips to and around the Rocky Mountains, and multiple trips across and around the state of Texas, Then their were migratory road trips from Texas to Indiana, and several weeks later, Indiana to Texas.
Another migratory trip was from San Diego to Fort Worth. Then, there were multiple trips from Fort Worth to Santa Fe and a couple of memorable jaunts around the island of Maui on a motorcycle.
The foregoing aside, the most memorable in many ways is one I wrote about in 2022, Road Trip Flashback. That is why I considered this prompt such a softball.
My online muse sent a message last night asking the following question. “What snack would you eat right now?” As luck would have it, I did not have to ponder the question as my answer was staring me in the face.
Yep, it was “Cake and Pie” night at choir practice. That is the night we celebrate the birthdays of choir members or other Music Ministry volunteers and staff born that month.
In this case, we were celebrating December and January birthdays due to the Christmas and New Year holidays. So there were many birthdays to celebrate and thousands of calories to consume.
Of course, I shared this photo last night with a much shorter explanation. Today, I wanted to share something else.
For years, I was somewhat skeptical of any organized religion. When someone asked me about religion, church, or God, my standard response was a bit offputting. I would say, usually rather tersely, “I don’t bother Him, and He doesn’t bother me.”
My problem was I did not understand what people thought they found in religion. I felt they were weak and needed a crutch. Either that, or they used the church to make themselves feel better and look better to their community and friends.
Today, I am heavily involved in my church and do not fear sharing my beliefs with others. That is why I sing in the choir and volunteer in other ways. As some of my friends have commented, I am one of the most changed people they’ve ever known. I’d love to take credit for the change, but the only thing I did was let down my walls so I could see what others saw in the Bible, their churches, and their believer friends.
Maybe I’m just drinking the Kool-Aid, or maybe there is something to all this “Christian” stuff. All I know is that thirty years ago, I walked back into a church with an open mind. Those thirty years have been some of the best years of my life.
That is especially true of my fourteen years in the choir; helping others worship in song is sweeter than all the cake and pie one could eat in their lifetime!
Today, our little online muse came up with something that puzzled me. I wondered if someone had been digging into my background and discovered my family history. The challenge was to come up with a crazy business idea. If my dad were still living and working, he would have created a dozen.
Da was a mostly self-taught engineer and borderline genius. According to a psychiatrist friend of his, the borderline aspect of his genius was driving him crazy.
While the shrink may have been right, Dad’s instability did not stop him from being inventive, slick-talking, and convincing. He helped develop one of the most successful aftermarket automobile air conditioning systems around in my grade school years.
Later, he got into the news business and was what a newspaper photographer friend from that era called a film shooter. That meant he took black and white film footage instead of still photos. That experience led to the idea of shooting commercials to show in movie theaters along with the previews.
His final big idea was the first we know of a burglar alarm that would call the police when someone broke into a building. It worked beautifully, but like his previous endeavors, it went into the dustbin of history and business.
Dad had other ideas, some of which people helped him try and lost money. A few others cost us money but were too crazy to bring investors. With that said, as we now know, the only problem with some of Dad’s ideas was technology. The technology at the time would not support his ideas.
Today, almost every crazy idea my dad had in the fifties and sixties is making money for big corporations and their investors. So, where does that leave me?
It leaves me sitting here watching the news and weather forecasts about the coming cold front, writing a little memoir while waiting to go to choir practice. That’s about as crazy as I get these days.
The writing challenge for people like me today left me a bit perplexed. In some ways, it is a simple prompt to get us thinking and writing if our internal muses are taking the day off. Then again, it seems to make assumptions that might leave some, like me, wondering how to respond.
In fact, I’ve spent the better part of an hour just trying to develop an opening paragraph for the response I thought was appropriate. The challenge is, “Describe an item you were incredibly attached to as a youth. What became of it?” I don’t know about you, but I cannot think of one thing that meets the criteria of this prompt.
Oh, I can think of “items” that excited me or, in one case, disappointed me. However, I can’t say I was incredibly attached to one material “item.” So, I began working on a post to explain why that is the case, and wouldn’t you know, I remembered something.
While that “something” does not meet the criteria of the prompt above, it will give you some insight into me and why the response to the prompt was so difficult to handle. So, what did I remember?
What they will not do is clarify the title of this post. Why “Materially Speaking?” The prompt discusses an “item” to which I was incredibly attached. The term “item,” as it is used here, clearly implies something material, such as a bicycle.
The term itself can have other meanings. However, not in this context, especially since the prompt closes with the question of what happened to “it.”
I remember some material things in my childhood and young adulthood fondly. However, the things to which I was “incredibly attached” were living, breathing creatures. They were the four-legged members of our family, and if my plans work out, you will have the opportunity to come to know them in the future.
If you’re old enough to remember hearing the phrase below on your black-and-white television, you’re like me and getting a little long in the tooth.
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it . . .”
I know! Whether we’re talking about the television show or the movies, Mission Impossible was a fun ride that had little to do with reality. However, when I was asked recently, “What is your mission?” the real world and fantasy land collided.
Whether we think of it that way or not, each of us has at least one mission in life. Of course, missions vary, and recognizing our mission is often difficult. It can be so difficult we decide our mission is to avoid the mission. However, many do not realize they have or should have a mission.
The crash from which Dad never completely recovered.
For instance, as the firstborn in my family, I found myself in an unusual situation. I would not completely understand my predicament for decades, and then only when I messed up my life so badly that I needed a shrink.
My father survived World War II, physically at least, and returned home wanting a daughter. Instead, he got me, and I was anything but the baby he wanted. My birth started a decades-long tension between us and the rest of the family in some ways. It also set me on a mission, though I did not recognize it until I had the help I mentioned above.
My mission was to prove myself to the man who was supposed to love, teach, and set an example for me. And, teach me he did. He taught me to be just like him and then became upset when I was. The details are unimportant today, but everything became clear in my senior year of high school.
That was when a family crisis led to a confrontation, resulting in him making it clear where I stood in his mind. On a late-night drive with my little brother, Dad looked me squarely in the eye and said, “Eric, I respect you and who you have become. However, I will never love you.”
He told me he and my brother were leaving a few weeks later. Dad’s current girlfriend, my future stepmother, was going with them. On the other hand, I was responsible for staying with Mom and caring for her.
My mission then became to be a better man than my dad and help Mom move on with her life. I did that, and I set goals for myself, achieving many of them. Things he’d only talked about, I did. However, it was a long and difficult road with many disappointments.
There were some triumphs, though. One was professional. One was spiritual. Through those, I found my new mission: helping others who faced challenges like mine. Yes, the kid who was not worthy of his father’s love and repeated many of his father’s mistakes became a mentor to many who needed to know someone could survive such trials.
Few things are more fulfilling and heartwarming than knowing you have two wonderful daughters who love you and a soulmate with whom you can share them and your life. However, having someone reach out to you from the past and thank you for what you helped them conquer or achieve comes close.
One of my favorite television characters firmly believes there is no such thing as a coincidence. Given the context of his make-believe world, I tend to agree with him. However, when my current online muse asked, “What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life,” I began to wonder about the idea of coincidences.
That morning at church, the sermon kicked off a series on the Book of Genesis. During the introduction, the pastor continued to hammer the idea that God is, was, and always will be. God is eternal, which is what you might call a very long life.
When you add the above to my medical history over the last few years, you better have a warped sense of humor, or you’ll think the next knock at the door could be the Grim Reaper. This is especially true if your last two Januarys included hospital stays with potentially dire outcomes, as mine did.
Thankfully, it wasn’t my time to go. However, during one of those stays, when things were up in the air, the attending physician tried to lighten the mood by assuring me I was a strong fighter. His exact words were, “You’re going to beat this and be with us for a long time.”
Then, in an attempt at what I assume was humor, he quipped, “You may not make it to 100, but you’ll be around for years!” I had to bite my tongue to avoid saying, “Who wants to live to be 100?” That thought should give you some idea of how I would respond to the very long-life question.
Of course, there are some caveats to keep in mind. If medical science comes up with a way for humans to live very long lives while staying physically and mentally fit as we are in our mid-twenties, living a very long life might be interesting. On the other hand, it might not. That is why one of my prayers is that should I go to Heaven, God has something interesting for me to do.
