Short: The Mountain, Verse 2

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And on what became his first attempt to conquer the Mountain,

The boy quickly soured.

His father thought it best to hike a few trails near the wooded base,

no climbing, no mountain top today.

But why? protested the youngster.

Though the answers did not satisfy,

As the question asked was not in search of an answer.

The pair spent the remainder of the day breathing clean, pine scented air,

marveling at ancient streams cut by the melting snow,

and cataloguing the various animals they encountered throughout the day:

a handful of blacktail deer, red tailed hawks and scrubs jays, squirrels and a porcupine.

On the return trip home, to the stamped neighborhoods and yellow street lights,

the boy sat content yet unsatisfied as they motored south.

Nothing in his ordinary town compared to glory of the Mountain and the life living on it.

(Later in life, when his heart allowed him to see it, he appreciated all the more his first visit to the Mountain.

For he finally understood how his father, his untrained and unprepared father,

Lacking rope, tents, and hiking boots, still desired nothing more than to give his son what he wanted.

In truth, no father can give more than they have in hand.

Years in the making, this new awareness of a father’s love for his son, was the first gift the Mountain gave the boy.)

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Short: The Mountain, Verse 1

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A boy played in the yard as was his routine,

and then by happenstance, on a clear winter day, let his eyes drift to the north.

They landed on a dark mountain far beyond his county,

where the wind blows its surly breath and the cold will snap whatever is left exposed.

But something about the sloping giant spoke to him,

and the boy listened.

And in his heart he accepted the invitation, I will climb you.

For many months he begged his father to make the two hour drive north.

His father always said no.

And the boy’s heart grew ill.

Each day he enjoyed his backyard play a little less,

as he refused to ignore the silent call of adventure.

Then, on warm spring morning, his father pulled him from his slumber,

and they made the journey north.

Ah, said the boy to himself, timing is everything,

For the duration of the drive, his eyes stayed locked destination ahead,

the form of which grew larger and more detailed every second along the way.

Then the forest grew thick with sugar pines and firs, underpinned with manzanita,

hiding the mountain from view.

And suddenly, as they rounded the last big bend in the road,

the forest gave way as if bowing to the lord ahead.

In front of them lay the the rocky giant,

dominating the view as nothing they’d ever seen,

tranquil and forbidding, beautiful yet daunting.

The wide base was hidden by trees of all kind, all green with spring.

And the then, higher up, they gave way to the rocks.

Deep gray in some places, a reddish hue in others,

they displayed scars of battles won and lost as a result of life on the mountain.

Huge outcrops were surrounded by piles of loose volcanic rock and little else.

And then, beyond the rock, high still, snow.

White and glittering, the frozen rain looked like a cap on a pointing old man’s head.

Both father and son fell into a state of quiet wonder in an attempt to take it all in.

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Vol IV: #43 On Libraries

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Yesterday, I discussed my approach to spending and getting the most for my money. And, I wasn’t satisfied with my commentary on libraries. I forgot how valuable they are or can be in our lives. In the age of “oh my gawd, ev-erythang is so damn expensive,” we have this readily available free resource. And modern libraries contain more than free books to read. Comically, most of them still have CDs and DVDs. Thank you 1990-1999. But more applicable to the 2020s, libraries also contain e-reader, audiobooks, and magazines. I use the Libby App and the Kindle App to “checkout” books I want to read, and all of it is 100% free. I don’t need to go to the library for the Kindle books.

And all this free access, and the e-reader and audiobook, is crucial to me as someone who will read 50ish books this year. I’ll save hundreds of dollars by using the library instead of buying used books. Although I to brag a bit, I’ve gotten pretty good at buying used books too. I never pay more than $6-7 for used book, usually less than $4.

I want to end this Friday post by admitting something. The main reason I haven’t used the library before now is I thought it was beneath me. Put another way, I was too much of an arrogant prick to visit the library. I wanted to spend $15-20 on new books and fill my shelves with glossy trophies- so anyone walking in my room would know “this guys reads.” How immature. Right?

Oh well. Moving on.

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Short: O Charlie, Part1: The Store

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Bishop’s first restaurant job was for a soulless regional chain, a steakhouse designed with Walmart-loving America in mind. You know the type. Constructed of brick and tile, and decorated with cheap nostalgia. These restaurants are passionless formulas, tried and true, right down to the drink specials and open floor plan. They have catchy slogans involving fun and hoopla and a basic menu of grilled meats and burgers. Mention it’s your birthday and they’ll give you a slice of caramel pie while singing Happy Birthday. And of course, they offered yeast rolls. Free, ass-fattening, light and pillowy, slathered in butter yeast rolls, the delight of adults and children alike. Bishop quickly learned most customers overlooked unfilled drinks and dirty plates, but hell hath no fury like an angry redneck demanding more free bread. And all of it- the intersection of food, service, and power dynamics of a restaurant such as Charlie’s- fascinated him.

The first wonder, according to Bishop, was the ruthless efficiency of the restaurant. Enough to make the most ardent capitalist happy, dishes were formed from a handful of common ingredients, with most plates containing some bland variation of beef, chicken, or salmon. And every item on the menu was designed to be prepared and on the customer’s table in under eight minutes. And management leveraged favorable labor laws to keep the place clean and stocked. Of course, the corporate office utilized their massive buying power to lower fixed costs. Something a mom and pop could never do.

Some days, Bishop felt this machine pushing on his soul. The smell of industrial sanitizer and fry oil drove permeated his uniform- a white oxford dress shirt and blue jeans. And he hated coupon cutters, the Sunday brunch crowd, and cringed at the way management bent over for any customer with a complaint regardless of validity. Better to keep the customer happy than have them call the home office, he was told. All this is normal enough, but what really got under his skin was the never-ending “Kids eat free” promotion.

You may let your mind run wild as you picture the type of person willing to abuse such an offer. Single parents would claim a fifteen year-old was twelve, the maximum age as defined by the fine print. They’d order a bowl of soup instead of an entree as required. Or worse, a cheap schmuck might order ten chicken wings on .25 cent wing night and get the kids meals for free too. (And why, might you ask, were people allowed to abuse the promo? Recall what you read above, management didn’t want anyone raising a fuss.)

Bishop once served a family of four whose entire bill including meals, enough lemon wedges to make lemonade, and free bread was a mere $8. After an hour of running him ragged for every free item in the store, they left him a single crumpled up dollar bill as a tip. Rats don’t work this hard, he thought.

Still, the restaurant held his attention, even on the worst days. Shifts were short and he was usually able to score free food by doing extra side work. And management liked him. They like him because he worked hard and was honest, two uncommon traits in the food service world. But more than that, we was willing to pick up extra shifts. Naturally, he rose quickly through the ranks, from lowly server to trainer and bartender. And when trouble did come calling for Bishop, management covered for him…

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Vol IV: #42 Yes, We Can Live Cheap and Good

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I don’t know why I’m posting this, because it’s not my usual sort of thing. Maybe I’m tired of hearing the bullshit related to “how hard modern life is” or perhaps I’d prefer to educate anyone willing to listen. Or, it might have something to do with my brother who has continually made head-scratching statements like “it’s almost cheaper to eat out than at home,” a statement I find both hilarious and frustrating. And since I don’t have social media, I decided to use my blog as my outlet. Regardless, I choose to believe life is good and wonderful and not expensive.

So, for today, I want to discuss the living and how to manage it at a low cost. Better said, I want to explain how I handle it.

1. Health and Wellness. Health has a price. We can spend the money on quality foods and exercise, or ignore them and pay doctors and pill pushers down the road. Both are hard paths. And at 43, I choose to former. I accomplish this by cooking 98% of my own food, subscribing to Apple Fitness($10/month for tons of good workouts I do at home), and utilizing all the free parks and hiking paths in my area. Contrary to anything my beloved brother has to offer on the subject, cooking at home is not as expensive as dining out. Not even close. He just doesn’t know how to cook. Poor guy. He’s good at a lot of other stuff. He doesn’t know I could feed his whole family of three for a month on less than $500. How? With humble ingredients and technique. Cabbage and carrots aren’t chic but they are healthy and cheap. Chicken thighs have the best flavor for the price. And knowing how to make my own stocks, dressings, and sauces is skill that saves tons of money.

2. Entertainment**. I keep my entertainment costs down three ways: buying movies and shows instead of using a streaming service, keep my eyes peeled for free or cheap local events, and utilizing free options like parks and the library. (YES! LIBRARIES STILL EXIST AND EVERYTHING IS FREE.) If the choice was left to me, my apartment wouldn’t have a single streaming service. I don’t need them. But my roommate pays for them and I get the benefit. My preferred method is to reserve $10-20 every month to buy movies or shows from Apple TV. My library is larger than most, and I’ve spent about an average of $5 per movie/show to own them. Now, I have my own streaming service called Shit Nik Likes. All that said, not everyone is like me. All I’ll say is the streaming services are only going to increase their prices. And YouTube is free. As for local events, every town and city in America has something for free or low cost. Redding has several events throughout the year including Kool April nights and the 4th of July fireworks- which really are fantastic. And I know I say it all the time, but the local parks and trails are awesome. I miss them when I’m away. And you’re local area has free parks, museums, zoo days, etc days too. Just gotta look for them and schedule your visit.

3. Education. If I could turn back time…if I could find a way, I might not have gone back to college. And nowadays, unless you want to be surgeon or lawyer or such, why would I? The internet is stocked with the exact same teachers and professors teaching the same subject matter for dramatically lower costs than what universities and colleges charge. Platforms like Skillshare and Udemy offer a range of classes covering a whole host of subjects at a low cost. For example, I found an amazing drawing instructor on Udemy and purchased all his courses for a total of $90. And I have access to the courses anywhere I have wifi. I’m also enrolled in a Flash Fiction course on Skillshare. (I recommend Googling a 40% off discount code, which will reduce a early subscription price for all courses on Skillshare to around $100. Not bad for a whole year.) The real kicker with any online learning is the energy you put into the courses.

4. Clothes. This is the one area where cheap isn’t better, so I recommend buying quality clothing to save money in the long-term. My best example of this concept is Levis jeans vs everyone else. In my experience, no other pair jean compares to the long-term quality of a pair of Levis. And I’ve tried a lot of brands. Lee Jeans tear in the crotch. Old Navy tears in the crotch. Gap…in the crotch. H&M jeans are barely jeans and guess what? They tear in the crotch. But Levis? I’ve had the same pair of Levis for years. And even though they costs twice the amount I paid for the others, they’ve lasted this long. Broken down by year, if a pair of Old Navy Jeans last two years, that’s $15 year. But if a pair of Levis costs $60, but lasts ten years…that’s $6 per year. Lesson learned. Better to spend money on longer-lasting, high quality clothes, than cheaper wannabes.

   A word of warning on this one. Companies change over time. Nike’s clothing quality has continually gotten worse and worse over the last ten years. I now refuse to buy anything other than shoes from them. It’s especially sad considering Nike charges a premium for that silly swoosh.

I could go on about how to live on a budget but I’ll stop here. I feel like I satisfied my need to express a few ideas. And I get how people feel, especially in cramped cities. But plenty of people make the most of what they have because they focus on what’s at hand instead of what they lack. Truth is, my brother has never struggled financially- a testament to his work ethic and steadfast way of living. He’s never skipped meals to make rent or switched career paths as often as I have. But, I’m thankful for the hard times and what they taught me. I know how to live and enjoy life. And a few extra bucks is just the cherry on top.

**We are over entertained and thus place to much importance on it. Most of us need background noise just to make it through the day. It’s not healthy.

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Vol IV: #41 Happy 2024!

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The final two weeks of 2023 I did something I never do. I allowed myself to shut everything down to take a break. No writing. No drawing. No reading. Nada. And it was awesome. The break revealed how much I need space to relax and unwind from my normal day-to-day life, which isn’t a complaint. I love my life and I’m thankful for it. Breaks, pauses, and vacations are good. And now, I’m ready for 2024 with all the twists and turns to come.

My main focus for 2024 will be to live intentionally, in the moment. Much like an airplane does not assemble itself, life doesn’t move forward without planning, scheduling, faith, and doing. And I’m planning to do a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. In support of my intentions, I spent the last two days transforming desires into goals and goals into tasks. I even integrated my project management software with Google calendar. All I need to do is follow my schedule, one day at a time, and the goals will complete themselves.

The real trick is going to be navigating the moments when the task feels heavy and important. And that voice that whispers bullshit in my ear is loud and my confidence is hiding behind a tree. And I’d rather reach for my phone or slip into a day dream. 2024 is about sitting in those moments, slowly and intentionally. It’s about telling that voice to piss off. It’s about staying committed to the task and the schedule and reaching for Jesus instead of anything else.

As I recently said to a good friend, I’m going to boss 2024 instead of allowing it to boss me.

Cheers.

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Vol IV: #40 My Favorite Gifts

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My favorite Christmas gifts are memories. And my experience flies directly in face of what Amazon and Walmart want us to believe. They want me (and you) to believe Christmas isn’t Christmas without the perfect gift, because the best memories involve spending money. What a shame. What a lie.

My favorite moments include shopping for trees with my brother and sister. Like the time my brother and I lacked the necessary rope to tie our tree to the roof of the car. Never shy about asking me to take one for the team, my brother instructed me to hold the onto the tree until we got home. And because he was my hero, I did my duty- nearly freezing my right hand off on the ride home. Good times.

As for my sister and me, we share a library of memories. My personal fav is when I demanded we shove the tree- trunk first- into our burgundy station wagon. Picture it. A thick, sappy trunk resting against the inside of the windshield between us while the bottom branches scraped the back of our necks. And then, we left the Christmas tree lot and made our way to Rush’s, a local burger chain. After ordering our cheeseburgers and milkshakes, we pulled forward to pay where our noble steed broke down outside the drive thru window. We laughed and laughed at ridiculousness of our situation, so much so I was barely able to push the car forward out of the drive thru lane. What I’d give to hear what the workers and customers thought when they saw us.

For me, those are the real gifts, the unplanned yet hilarious Christmas memories with people I love.

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Vol IV: #39 The Married Man and the Bizarre

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When I walked into the prayer chapel on a sunny Sunday morning, the room was almost empty and nearly quiet. A lone man sat opposite the entrance and the worship music was off, or so I thought. Since I prefer the music, I glanced over at the control screen. On occasion, the screen is blank meaning it’s broken aka no music. And when I looked over at the screen I saw the name of a worship song and the progress bar below it. Then I reached for the volume nob beside the screen and turned the volume up, not too loud but enough to compete with the fountain in the center of the room.

Happy with my adjustment, I walked over to my favorite chair to begin my morning. Before I could take my seat, the stocky man quickly hurried over to me. And when he was close enough he launched into lecture on etiquette.

“Are you normally this rude?” he began.

Stunned by the question I stammered, “Huh?”

“It’s common courtesy to ask people to turn the volume up. I had the music off so I could listen to the fountain.”

“Well, this is a public space not your home. I can turn the music up.”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? There are no rules here.”

And this confused me. How could he say I broke a social norm yet assert there were no rules? Unfortunately, I knew better.

“Oh yes, there are. Over there on the wall.”

At this he doubled down on his common courtesy logic. And part of me wanted to apologize, to smooth things over and make peace. But, I decided to stand up for myself.

“You’re joking, right?” I asked, still shocked by the man’s approach to the situation.

“No. I’m not,” he shot back with a glare.

“I’ve come almost everyday for the last four years and I’ve never seen anyone ask anyone else about the music.”

“Well, I’ve come here for 15 years. And you’re in the wrong.”

“You can’t be serious. All this over music. Are you proud of yourself right now?”

My last question landed on him and he paused, and being too stubborn to back down, he continued his assault.

“You’re a jackass,” he sniped as he walked over to the volume nob.

A million thoughts ran through my head and I searched for the right response.

“Are you ok, man?” I asked.

“I’m fine, you’re just one of the people who think you’re better than everyone else.”

“No. I don’t. I’m just not going to be talked to like that. Seriously, do you need someone to talk to? People who are “fine” don’t berate strangers in the prayer chapel.”

The argument continued for several more minutes. Me trying to connect to the man, while he continued to defend his weak position. And, I nearly laughed when he threatened to “beat [my] ass.” Trice. After the third threat, I motioned to the cameras on the wall and told him I’d let him beat my ass. Then, I’d use the video footage to pursue justice. “I’m not a cave man who solves my problems with violence,” I pridefully responded. He didn’t like that either.

At this point in the battle, he was seated in his chair and staring out a large window. A few yards away, I was on one knee, still asking if he was ok. Toward the end he wouldn’t look at me. Through logic and experience, I’d backed him into a corner and he was going to defend it to the end. And seeing no positive movement, I decided to give it rest and walked back to my chair while he continued to berate me from over his shoulder.

Finally, I relented,“Ok, man.You want to defend yourself and push everyone away, so be it. You’re getting what you want. I’m leaving. The room is yours.” And then, I grabbed my journal and made for the side exit. From my car, not thirty seconds later, I watched my assailant leave the prayer chapel too. How fucking absurd, I thought.

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As I replayed that bizarre scene in my head (all day, the rest of the day), I tried to find a better response to the man’s initial insult. (And from my recollection, I’m ok with how I handled the moment, save a few words and the caveman thing. That was unnecessary. In the future, when someone comes guns a blazin’, I’ll simply ask what they want. Me and the married man could’ve avoided a lot of drama if I had the sense to ask “Hey man, what do you want right now?”)

I also thought about the wedding band on his thick ring finger, and his stocky frame. He had the build of construction worker or truck driver, and his worn off-brand black hiking boots indicated moderate economic ability- though you never know, some rich people are cheap as fudge. Assuming he is married with a family, perhaps that quiet moment in the prayer chapel was the only peaceful moment he’d had in days. Or, maybe he was stressed by the holidays? Who knows?

Ultimately, the man and his condition aren’t what matters to me. My goal was to love him the best I could despite his approach, because love- true love- isn’t something we switch off when life doesn’t go our way. Though the world says love is conditional, it isn’t. Jesus isn’t conditional. His love is pure and good all the time, even and especially in conflict. That’s why, today, I’m not a wreck. Despite my mistakes, I know I did my best. And I hope to do better in the future, the next time I dare touch a volume nob.

Lord, bless the married man and shower him with love. Forgive whatever offenses I gave, and I forgive his ill-considered words.

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Vol IV: #38 What is “Flawed?”

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During my morning prayer today, the Lord asked me two fun questions. First He asked, “If something is flawed, is it bad?” and then “What is flawed?" My answers were as complicated as I could make them. To the first, I answered yes and no. Emotionally, yes. When something is flawed, I think it’s bad. But logically, no. Many great aspects of life are flawed yet nonetheless beautiful or wonderful. As for the second question, what is ‘flawed’?, I had to think a bit longer.

“Flawed” is a poorly drawn face, cracked windows, or lose gossipy lips. Most products and all people are flawed. But, by what standard? Who’s standard? And when considered, most of what we label as “flawed” is nothing more than a failure to match a standard. Then, mid-thought I heard the Lord again and this time He was smiling. In my world, an action, an object, or system, either gives life or reduces it. It’s good (flawed or not), or not good (even if flawless.) And I love life. All of it. I loved this answer. It was simple and good.

Before I left the prayer chapel, I asked the final question. If all good things give life regardless of flaws, why does it seem like some things are better than others? Again, the Lord smiled at me before answering as He does. “Only in your world is one act of love greater than another. A mighty redwood shadows a greater area than a lowly manzanita. And you’ll sit with your back against the trunk, supported and cool on a hot summer evening. But ask the bugs and critters about the hedge, and you’ll find they are as grateful for the bush as you are for the tree.”

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Short: What’s Your Favorite

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The dumbest question anyone might ask me, a new acquaintance perhaps, sounds small upon hearing.

It’s a basic get-know-you query, made by adults and children alike.

And because of the basic nature of the question, most folks give dispassionate, ill-considered answers.

But, not me, not ever.

When asked, I pause to consider my options…all of them,

Having been blessed with a depth of experience and range on the subject.

I ponder the old and the new, the textures and aromas, colors and flavors.

Naturally, I do not arrive at a simple reply.

How could I?

How could anyone compare one dish to another?

Consider a perfectly roasted duck, succulent and aromatic, wrapped in a thin pancake and smoother’d in hoisin sauce,

Smokey, meaty, unctuous with hints of anise and orange peel. It’s a perfect bite of food thanks to centuries of the Cantonese process.

Now imagine a humble peanut butter cup: nutty, creamy, and chocolatety. Sweet and savory. Better than gold. South America’s best gift.

Should I go on?

Because I’ve not yet begun.

What’s my favorite food?

Don’t make me laugh.

Need I mention the glory and world favorite know as pizza?

Or just how wonderfully clean yet deeply rich in flavor a fresh slice of fatty tuna can be?

And, what about the joy of a Parisian croissant, buttery and crisp?

Or…a medium rare ribeye, mustard-base pulled pork, or butter pecan ice cream?

I’ll never be able to give a quick answer to such simple question.

I’m too far down the hole.

The world is delicious, land and sea,

And I’m blessed to know it.

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Short: Why And I Type

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How many arguments will I have with the wind?

Rehashing the offenses given and received?

Lying out my case before an imaginary court,

Passionate defenses, argued to an empty room?

Why does my mind drift toward these rocks, when I want to be out on the open sea?

Even now, I can hear an academic, a real prick, critique my words,

the use of three different metaphors in just seven lines.

And nonetheless, I type.

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Vol IV: #37 The Big One

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I grow tired of arguing. All arguing. In my life, two people, at each other’s throats, have never resolved an issue by shouting at each other. Problems are fixed only when both parties decided they rather grow than be right. One or both people can be passionate about the subject, but they stay on subject and refuse to make it personal. I’ve had these moments with both parents. And what I have with my parents- to some degree- is a measure of trust. My mother can tell me “hey, I don’t like how to talked to be just then” without it becoming a big thing. I’ll simply apologize and we move on.

More recently, I’m tired of feeling defensive and the spiral that follows. It’s embarrassing. Do you know how many people have encountered me in the woods, cussing at the air and wagging my finger? Seriously.

My focus and fixation on trauma, offense, and pain leads to a dark dry desert called Bitter Assholeville. And it’s not for me. On most occasions, I stop myself and commence a series of verbal exercises including a prayer of forgiveness for myself and the other person. But, what I want is to be done with the whole damn process, to put to bed the broken parts of my past. No more Steve Thompson, no more ex-girlfriends, no more sibling fights where we try to convince the other my pain is greater than your pain, no more arrogant couple who pretended to live in London for years but really in was eight months, no more duel of wits.

I don’t know why or how this pattern began, but’s it’s time for it to end. There has to be a way? Right? To leave it behind and engage fully in the moment without letting the past ruined it? Lord knows I want to approach each day, person, and moment without cynicism. The missing piece is how to get there. How does anyone go from negative, defensive thoughts to regular thoughts of hope and love? I’ve done all the things- written letters and emails, burned things, prayed and prayed some more- and I still fight this fight, every single day.

Pray for me y’all. If I had the choice between a BILLION DOLLARS or to be set free from mentally fighting everyone in my past, I’d gladly choose the freedom. Of all my battles, this one is the big One.

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