In Memory of Grandma

How do you honor someone who so remarkably left their imprint on the foundation of your existence? How do you express in words the magnitude of someone's influence and how that influence has been woven within the fiber of your being? That was my grandmother. And although I live a journeyman’s life, moving state to state, each one a little further away than the last, the one thing that never got left behind in boxes or in piles of donated clothes were the memories of my grandmother, the lessons she taught, and how much she meant to me. 

They say it takes a village, but obviously they hadn’t heard of Crissy Elwin. My grandmother raised a village; running a daycare from our two-story in New Haven, Connecticut, taking in foster children in need, and still somehow, at the end of the day, found time for me. I remember waiting all day for parents to come pick up their children, so that I could have my grandmother all to myself. 

Every grandmother is different and whether you realize it or not, we all have some special memory or memories that intimate our relationships with them. Mine is warm cups of Ovaltine, popcorn, and “spooks”. You see, my grandmother loved her scary movies and although most kids would likely squirm and curl into a ball at the sight of Leatherface, I was never scared. Through all the gory visuals, I was okay because I was with my grandmother. To this day very few things scare me and if I had to bet, I would say my fearlessness came from Crissy. It’s why my mother fearlessly moved to Atlanta when I was 5 and it’s undoubtedly why I dive headfirst into life. Those things that my grandmother gave me live on in me and while it may not completely explain the complexities that make up my existence, it gives insightful clarity into why I am motivated to be who I am. 

My grandmother was a gardener. She loved to plant things. How do I know? I was always the one outside helping her plant something or another in the soil. And unlike some people who struggle to harvest, everything in my grandmother’s garden was visually edible. I realize that although I am not quite the expert my grandmother was with water and sunlight, I, like her, have a nurturing soul, and that my attempts to plant seeds are ones of knowledge rather than cucumber. 

Speaking of, cucumber salads will never be the same. I’ve eaten many trying to recreate the flavors that my grandmother somehow spiritually infused onto my taste buds. As good as a chef as I am, even I can’t quite do it. And yes, I’ve watched many a time as she made cucumber salad, or johnnycakes, or meat patties. No comparison. It must have been the magic she infused into its making; the time she spent preparing the dough, or the vinegar she used with just the right amount of salt; soaking fruit for months so that Christmas was full of fruitcake for everyone. Miles and miles of fruitcake. There are many fruitcakes in existence, but none like Crissy’s. The joy of coming home for a visit was only eclipsed by the feeling of leaving with a fruitcake and a tin full of meat patties and johnnycakes. 

Her boisterous laugh unexplainable, her Caribbean accent at times undecipherable, her smile unforgettable, my grandmother still today affects the process by which I make decisions and, more than anything,  gives me the strength to be a better person. You know my grandmother read her Bible every morning when she woke up, throughout the day when she needed strength, and every night before she went to bed in much the same way I carry the Tao with me to reference in times of need. It gives me great pleasure to know that I exist as a result of the trial and errors of life which make me uniquely individual, but it gives me more pleasure to know that my existence is a truly a testament to my grandmother. I will miss you immensely, like nothing I have ever lost before, and will carry you in my heart, my thoughts, my words, and my deeds as an example of a life lived magnificently. Rest peacefully Grandma, you are finally home.

In memory of Creseda Elwin August 3, 1920 - January 31, 2012     

Bronco Bucking the Trend

So there's been a myriad of discussion regarding Tim Tebow and his miraculous impact on the Denver Broncos and, essentially, sports in general. After conversing with some deep thinkers... its my belief that the emphasis on Tebow is misplaced. Misplaced you say? I do. I say this because in 10 yrs, what effect will this 7-1 run have on our lives? Unless of course he somehow is able to lead Denver to a Superbowl.  The real story is about a man whose devout faith in Jesus allows him to inspire others. The NFL, a conduit, because football unites so many of us in fellowship; one which transcends the confines of church walls. 

I admit, after 18 years as a Catholic--first communion, confirmation (at least you get to pick a new name for that one), and all that goes with it--I broke away from the church, convinced that spirituality had little to do with repetitious ritual. In my attempts to find some system or institution which coincided with my inner beliefs, I veered towards the Tao. While the two, Taoism and Catholicism, seem as far apart as day and night, the basic concept of faith remains the universal tie that binds; not only between the aforementioned, but all religions at their core. The existence of faith is what drives our spirituality whether is be Hindu, Buddhist, Catholic, or Muslim. Through this faith we act and interact, making decisions which not only shape our lives but the lives of those around us. 

So back to Tebow. What is it that he does that makes him such a polarizing figure? Its not throwing for touchdowns although, he does find a way to get the rock between the sticks. Its his faith. His faith wakes him up in the morning, propels him towards the stadium, and drives him into scoring position. And those of us who worship on Sundays at the chapel of Gillette Stadium, Lincoln Financial, Fed Ex Field, and Mile High Stadium, find some inspiration in a Brady 2-minute drill, a Jackson punt return, an Orakpo fumble recovery, and a Prater last second field goal. We relate to the effort put into these feats, and the faith which ultimately drives each individual accomplishment. Unfortunately however, we have somehow lost our ability to enjoy the moment and honed our skills to focus instead on the art of demolition. The systematic deconstruction of that which we cannot explain yet somehow still find fascinatingly flawed in some way. So flawed that we begin to see what really isn't there. Strange how quickly Tebow became a microscope of sorts for past running quarterbacks. Stranger still how that morphed into analyzation of black quarterbacks. How quickly flaw turns to dislike, dislike to hatred, hatred to racism. Disheartening that praise so easily turns to denigration, triumph to defeat, white to black; the process of destruction. 

The beauty in deconstruction however, is that from the rubble, we can pull out remnants of what still remains in an attempt to rebuild anew.  We can take our clouded perspective and shine light brightly through the cracks in our doubt....with faith. Take the jersey from Tebow's back. Strip him of his 4th quarter heroics. What is left? A child of Christ? Its an exercise in faith, one which allows us to see beyond the media hype directly to the core of the individual; the man. 

So if you can somehow, for a few minutes, separate these images in your mind, perhaps you can get to the core of the real issue. That a man has somehow found a way to be an example of faith in a world in desperate need of some. And through him, through the NFL, we can all find some type of compass towards a place where we can all finally begin to rebuild our own faith. 

Home for the Holidays

Since I tend to be in a different place every year, I'm always posed the same question, "How can you stand being alone for the holidays?" The answer to that question is usually three-fold: 

"I don't really plan it that way"

"I'm never truly alone, ever" and finally, 

"I'd rather be alone then be around insincere people"

So, ya, that all probably sounds a little jaded but, its all the truth. See I figure I've spent a fair bit of time around assclowns so, I feel like I'm a bit of an authority on the subject. However, I want to make clear that there are two types of people, those who prefer to be alone, and those who end up alone. Now of course the latter isn't by choice but, some people just rub other people the wrong way. So back to the point of this blog. Being alone for the holidays. 

I've always found myself in places that were just little far from home. In high school for example, Christmases were usually short lived because we had to come back to the MILT for basketball conditioning so, over the years I developed this method of reinventing the concept of home and holidays. Now don't get me wrong, I am one of the most festive people you'll ever come across however, circumstances over the years have taught me the value of making the best of what we are given. Its also given me perspective. I've learned that a large percentage of people are really only concerned with what they have in front of them. Its like that study that says that you can only be friends with 100 people at a time. LOL. I know, I'm reaching but, truly, how many of us think about the less fortunate on a daily basis? *raising my hand* I do. Every time I see a homeless person near a restaurant, I have to pull into the drive through and grab them some lunch. I used to have this Thanksgiving tradition where I would go play tackle football (Turkey Bowl how I miss you so), then go out and grab some subs from Subway and feed the homeless. That went great until Orlando banned feeding of the homeless. Really you say? I shit you not. So I volunteer as much as I can because, I can. Ya see, somewhere in this vast universe there's a plan and in that plan (for now) I'm supposed to be available.  To be honest, its very hard for people to step into someone others shoes, especially during the holidays. We all turn into single minded robots with agendas and deadlines and we rushhhhhhhhh around trying to make everything perfect. So much that we forget about each other. Now listen, it doesn't make us bad people, we just tend to focus on the most important facets of our lives during the holidays. 

Cmon Ty, thats totally a cop out bro. Is it a cop out? Perhaps, but truthfully, I've never had enough consecutive days off in which I could actually take advantage of a trip back home....until now. 

 "So why aren't you home" you ask? Because after all these years of wanting to go home and wishing my schedule could've allowed me to go home...this year, I am MY home. Now before you get all goofy on me, i wanto to sayo that some of my holidays have been spectacular. '05 Xmas with my gfs family down in West Palm. Italians really know how to lay out a spread. '07 Thanksgiving with a girl I really liked after almost getting arrested for feeding the homeless in Orlando (she eventually became my gf and we had two wonderful holiday seasons together) '09 I had to work. I was managing a bar but still was it fun. I  played guitar and my adopted Lex fam brought me scrumptious eats at work. So I had a pretty good odd year streak going there wouldn't ya say? So while my nomadic nature hasn't worked to my advantage, it has given me perspective for I never would be able to appreciate the people I've met along the way, and how they've affected my life were not for the holidays. 

So this year, once again, I'll be thawing out the Cornish game hen, brewing up some homemade nog, and throwing together some squash casserole. You'll probably see me at a shelter dishing out some vittles, or perhaps sending a cryptic message or two your way this holiday. I might go for a hike, or hit the punching bag but... i wont be homesick because home is where I am. And while I might be missing you ( and you all know who you are) I wont be missing OUT on you... because the memories will sit down right beside me at the dinner table and I'll know you're there in spirit. And it wont be like this forever but FOR NOW... it's not all that bad. : )

Seasons Greetings

Ty     

Trimming down the advice machine.

So I woke up 3 this morning, had a wonderful cup of chamomile tea, checked my email, wrote a few pages, and then...checked Facebook. You know exactly what I'm going to say next don't you? You're all so insightful. That is why you're all here, of course you super intellectuals.

Facebook is the buzz kill that keeps us all connected. Now don't get me wrong. I enjoy reading positive, insightful, hilarious, informative, heart-wrenching status updates from my very closest 460 odd friends. But (you knew there was a but), most of what I tend to see is the drama laden rants of the insecure which, as you can tell, took the chamo right out of my mile. Its a soothing tea they say. Really, try some. Just don't log on to Facebook right away after drinking some.

To be honest, the statuses displayed are some of the most depressing, debilitating, eviscerate, and bleak I've seen in some time--and I'm not talking about sickness, the loss of a loved one, inhumane treatment of animals, or a tragic turn. I'm referring to the statuses which foster hopelessness and breed negativity. Those are the ones which seek answers to problems or which constantly beg for us to respond to them, as if by miraculous intervention our 3-lined comment could but magical solve that which seems desolately irreversible. 

Are you done yet Ty? Um, no. Why? Because there is another element in the equation which must be acknowledged for these people of whom I speak, act not alone. Light bulb? Of course light bulb. You're lighting up all over the freaking place you rocket scientists just as did I at about 5am this morning. Newton's 3rd Law of motion conveys that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Therefore, we--the responders or reactors to these posts--enable the statustician (not a word, unlike its homophonic cousin "statistician" but you have to admit, its kinda cool),  facilitating their need to be heard. Ask yourself, how many times the person has actually taken your advice? Very low percentage right? That's because they don't actually care what you have to say, they just wanted to feed their need to be heard.       

 

So I wanted to send a message out there for those who are addicted to drama and use us (those who would listen) as sounding boards. Cut it the fuck out. Seriously. Now who am I really taking to; them or us? More them, with a subliminal hint of minty us on the side. 

The truth is that there will always exist certain people who feel the need to sabotage their own happiness by disregarding the obvious calamity which exists in their own lives. They who continue to exemplify the characteristics which typify the definition of insanity will always look to those who listen and counsel with open arms. Do they seek out approval? Maybe on some small scale, but I seriously doubt our words of wisdom truly matter in the grand scheme so long as the cry for help has been replied to (in comment form) in a timely manner.  

So what's the solution you ask? Trim down the advice machine. Take into account the source and begin recognizing patterns which identify and characterize these people. Instead of wasting valuable moments of your life that you can never get back, try being casually pseudo apathetic. I know right? I just blew your mind with that nonsensical turn of phrase which just might save your life. Blowing your mind again right? From now on, my response, or lack thereof, will be cheekily like a card you buy at the Hallmark store for $1.99. For those who fall into the category we're so passionately discussing, I want you to know that it's not that I don't love you. It's really that I love myself enough to tell the inner me, "stop facilitating negative behavior by responding positively to people who are only trying to momentarily repair their fractured psyche, not truly interested in the long term rehabilitation of their negative outlook on life."