Hourglass

Each human life is an hourglass filled with a specific number of seconds/minutes/hours/days/years, and I, for one, am excruciatingly aware of each one that passes from the top of the glass to the bottom. Since they are numbered, they are precious, and the waste of a single one of them is an irretrievable loss.

It is my deep and sincere belief that we emerge into life from the nothing of eternity and return to it at the moment of our death. The nothing of eternity does not disturb me, but doing nothing in the infinitesimally short existence available to us does. I can't stand to do nothing; I must always be doing something. I grudgingly admire those who can sit motionless for hours on a park bench on a warm summer's day. I am sure it gives them immense pleasure. If that is the way they wish to use the grains of their limited time, that is their choice. But I am incapable of doing so. Even as a child, when I would lie on my back in the grass and stare up at the clouds, I was doing something by searching them for—and finding—ships and clowns and elephants and faces. I love being on a beach staring at the waves, but I can't just sit quietly on the sand and observe for more than a few minutes; there is the whole beach to explore; so many colorful pebbles and seashells and bits of unknown things to see and contemplate.

To me, motion—doing something—is life; physical, and worse, mental inertia is somehow something less.

I probably spend nine or more hours of every day on the computer, but am compelled at some point to get up and go for a walk, not only for the exercise but to experience something of the world outside my apartment and outside my mind. I'm sure many would argue, with some justification, that much of my computer time is “wasted”; the equivalent of a car spinning its wheels without getting anywhere. I would disagree. I do emails, and write blogs, and engage in exchanges on Facebook and other sites, and too seldom work on my next book, all because with every word, every idea, every thought transferred from mind to monitor I am leaving a record of myself which hopefully will be around long after I am physically gone.

I have no way of knowing how many, if any, others see life the way I do, or are as compelled to hold nothingness at bay by doing something. I know there must be some. You, perhaps?

There are so very many things in our individual lives of which, if we consider them at all, we never speak, ironically because no one else speaks of them; thoughts and feelings we think of as being so personal that we feel no one else could have experienced in the same way, or be expected to understand. I am thoroughly convinced that those who think that are wrong. Which is why I have often described myself as being like a frog on a dissecting table, with all my emotional and mental innards laid out for anyone to see. I would hope that in doing so, others may say, “Hey, I can identify with that. That's me he's talking about! I thought I was the only one!”

Which brings us back to the hourglass. Man seems to be the only animal consciously aware of the passage of time, and the fact that it is, for each individual, finite. There are billions upon billions of things we will never know, books we will never read, places we will never visit, adventures we will never have. We can't possibly do/experience it all. But we can try to do/experience as much as possible in the time we do have before the last grain drops from the top of the glass.

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This blog is from Dorien's collection of blogs written after his book, “Short Circuits,” available from UntreedReads.com and Amazon.com, was published. That book is also available as an audio book from Amazon/Audible.com. I am looking at the possibility of publishing a second volume of blogs. The blogs now being posted are from that tentative collection. You can find information about all of Dorien's books at his web site: www.doriengrey.com.

Seashells

Every human being is linked to every other human being by DNA and a myriad of complex commonalities  that define us as human. Yet, ultimately, despite all of these links, each of us is on our own when it comes to dealing with the intimidating complexities of life surrounding us. In that regard, each of us is not unlike a single Hermit crab on a vast beach, seeking some a “just ours” shelter into which we can retreat for comfort and security. 

My own little protective shell is composed, not of calcium carbonate as are most seashells, but of logic. Logic is the tether that anchors my view of the world and, in fact, my sanity. 

However, as strongly as I rely on logic to protect me, far too much of my life is spent in frustration which at times verges on being debilitating. It is difficult to cling to one's beliefs and Illogic, clearly demonstrating that logic is utterly worthless when dealing with the real world. I simply cannot comprehend how things which are, to me, so quintessentially logical, are so easily ignored or dismissed out of hand by what seems at times to be the majority of my fellow human beings. The current state of our political system is perhaps the strongest single example of how little power logic has in our world. I firmly believe that those people in and out of Congress who swear allegiance to the Tea Party are far more closely aligned to Lewis Carol than to Boston.

To me, logic is the mind's salvation, just as hope is the soul's. However, to be continually shown irrefutable evidence that what is so vital to me is held in such disregard--and viewed with such disdain and contempt by so many--is truly disheartening. I simply, sincerely cannot understand how otherwise rational, intelligent people can be so totally unconcerned by not only the neglect of logic but its downright rejection. How can the most egregiously illogical precepts/ideas/theories be foisted upon us as gospel and, incomprehensibly, almost universally accepted without question?

It is when I find myself personally abandoned by logic that I am most exposed and vulnerable, and this happens most often when it comes to issues of consistency. Consistency is logical. If I do something in a certain way 99 times and get the same results all 99 times, should I not be able to safely assume that doing the same thing exactly the same way as I've done it 99 times before will produce the same result? Alas, the answer is no. I can never be sure that doing the same thing the same way will produce the same results as the last time I did it.

I've always found my reliance on logic at odds with my refusal to accept reality. Logic is, after all, the ultimate reality. But like most humans, I am quite good at making my own accommodations between the two.

I'm fully aware that my sincere belief in the basic goodness of our species flies in the face of both logic and reality, and marks me as incredibly naive. But it is because I so sincerely believe in the goodness and honesty of others that every single instance of outrageous, blatant dishonesty upsets me so. I walk around like an exposed nerve end.

I simply cannot understand how people cannot be more kind to one another, or more considerate, or how or at what point the Golden Rule metastasized from, "Do unto others as you would have done unto you," to "Do unto others as you would have done unto them."

And yet, in spite of it all, I still find comfort and safety within my increasingly thin little shell of logic, and try to ignore the storms that rage outside.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

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This blog is from Dorien's collection of blogs written after his book, “Short Circuits,” available from UntreedReads.com and Amazon.com, was published. That book is also available as an audio book from Amazon/Audible.com. I am looking at the possibility of publishing a second volume of blogs. The blogs now being posted are from that tentative collection. You can find information about all of Dorien's books at his web site: www.doriengrey.com.

The Gourmet Chef

I know, I know, I've regaled you with heart-rending tales of my inability to eat like normal people and my incredible bravery and nobility in dealing with this challenge. But this does not prevent me from being a superb cook...I may be so immodest as to say “chef.” I've frequently considered doing a cookbook but do not want to steal any thunder from Julia Child.

As a graduate of the prestigious Cordon Puce, where I studied under famed chef Joe Smutch, owner and head chef at Joe's Diner and Transmission Repair in Sheepdip, Wyoming, I am barraged by requests for my recipes, and have decided to share two of them with you today.

My pride in these two gourmet dishes despite my inability to taste them speaks, I think, for their worthiness. So get out a pencil and paper, and let us begin.

The first is Filet du Spam avec fromage.

Take one can of USDA Prime Spam (it comes already deboned and fat trimmed). Carve into 8 equal, horizontal slices, each approximately 1/4" thick. Place one slice of Spam for each diner onto a small "boat" created of aluminum foil. While the Spam, like a fine decanted wine, is "breathing" after being sliced, take a jar of olives--salad olives or whole olives avec pimento and slice each olive into four segments, vertically so as to retain some pimento in each slice. Next, carefully place sliced olives over the surface of the Spam slice, making sure to cover the entire slice.

Open a jar of barbecue (we chefs pronounce it bar-BEEK) sauce, and pour over the olives gently so as not to wash them off the slice of Spam.

Next, take one slice of the finest American Cheese (I prefer individually wrapped slices Kraft for ease of handling, though you must be careful to remove the wrapping), fold it over carefully into two equal, rectangular halves. Since the slices are square, you may fold from any direction except diagonally, which is not advised as it leaves some of the Spam and olives uncovered.  Place the folded rectangle of cheese atop the olives and bar-BEEK, making sure the cheese is parallel with the Spam, not crosswise to it. Depending on your love of bar-BEEK you may pour additional sauce over the top of the cheese.

Bake in 350 degree oven 10 minutes. Serve to the oohs, aaahs, and applause of your guests.

Gourmet Heaven!

The second gastronomic delight--Chien Chaud avec Fromage is simplicity itself, though care must be taken at certain stages of its preparation for maximum results. The directions below are for one serving, but can be easily expanded, again, by the number of servings desired.

Take one finely-ground U.S.D.A. approved, processed meat sausage commonly if quaintly referred to in the United States as a "hot dog." Set aside one slice of choice American cheese (see above), cut into four equal strips. Slice the "hot dog" lengthwise, beginning the incision 1/2 inch from one end and extending to 1/2 inch from the other. Be careful that the knife cuts as close as possible to but not through the "bottom". Putting the knife down, grasp both ends of the sausage with thumb and index finger to force the slit open. Into the slit, place two of the cheese strips. This may prove a bit difficult without breaking the strips, but no matter. Force them in as deeply as they will go. (You may eat the other two strips.)

Make a small "boat" of aluminum foil just big enough to hold the "hot dog", and place the cheese-stuffed "hot dog" into it. Take care that it does not roll over on its side, or the next step may be next to impossible.

Pour either Teriyaki Sauce or bar-BEEK of your choice over the cheese so that it fills the remaining gap in the "hot dog" completely.

Set oven to "Broil" and place the aluminum boat into the broiler. Be very careful, again, that the "hot dog" does not fall over on its side, or the sauce will all run out and the dish will, in effect, be ruined. Broiling times may vary, but two minutes is a good general guess. If you hear the smoke alarm going off, it may be an indication of over-cooking.

Remove from broiler (do not forget to wear protective gloves while doing so) and serve. If you are dining alone, to save dishes, you may eat directly from the aluminum "boat."

One day, if I am in a particularly beneficent mood, I may give you my award-winning recipe for Frog Legs avec Frog. Until then...Bon Appetit! 

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This blog is from Dorien's collection of blogs written after his book, “Short Circuits,” available from UntreedReads.com and Amazon.com, was published. That book is also available as an audio book from Amazon/Audible.com. I am looking at the possibility of publishing a second volume of blogs. The blogs now being posted are from that tentative collection. You can find information about all of Dorien's books at his web site: www.doriengrey.com.

Friends and Lovers

When I was living in Los Angeles and very active in the gay "scene," many of my friendships stemmed from having met someone in a bar, gone home with them, and our then deciding—either before, during, or after our time in bed—that we would like to get to know each other better aside from the sex. Usually, the element of sex eventually dropped out of the equation completely. This was simply the way gay culture at the time worked and I suspect still does. It's not coincidental that in my Dick Hardesty mystery series, many of Dick's closest friendships began with sex.

As a minor digression, I find it fascinating that the gay lexicon has changed dramatically when it comes to the description of long-term relationships. The word "lover," which was used for most of my adult life, was almost totally replaced by "partner," which I personally prefer, and "lover" is now almost never used.

Of all the relationships I've had in my long and checkered career, only two "partners" stand out as having a major impact on my life: Norm, who was my first real relationship, lasting six years, and Ray, which lasted nine years, on and off—mostly off due to the alcoholism which inevitably destroyed him. After our breakup, Norm and I segued from partners to loving friends until his death in 2010. I realize that I have largely fantasized my relationship with Ray, who I did indeed  love deeply—seeing only the incredibly sweet, kind, loving young man he was when sober and ignoring the monster he became when drunk. For those of you who follow my books, Ray was the inspiration for Dick's partner, Jonathan—which is hardly surprising since I, in my fantasy world, am Dick.

In our lives, if we are lucky, we have many friends of both genders and a variety of sexual orientations. If we're very lucky, some of them remain friends or a lifetime. 

The word "friend" covers a broad spectrum of, for want of a better word, "intensities." Simply put, some friends are closer than others. Friends tend to come and go. A mark of a true friend is one who may have drifted away for whatever reason but who, when re-meeting after many years, can pick up a conversation in mid-sentence as though the intervening years never existed. I've been blessed to have several of those, and the re-establishment of the friendship is a joy hard to describe.

But throughout life there are relatively few we consider true "best friends." I've had three in my life—and I hasten to add that the term does not apply to lovers/partners, who are in a special category of their own. 

When I was in high school, my best friend was Lief Ayen, who looked like a young Charles Laughton, if any of you are old enough to remember him. We were both outsiders who knew we did not belong, and this awareness and our shared sense of offbeat humor was the glue that bound us for many years. We eventually drifted apart and, when I tried a few years ago to find him in hopes of re-establishing our friendship, I learned he had died. And even though it had been well over 50 years since I last saw him, I felt a great sense of loss.

Russ Hogan was my best friend in college and for 40 years thereafter. We drifted apart for reasons I've never fully understood, but for which I always felt oddly guilty, and I only learned of his death through a mutual friend. I still miss him terribly.

My current best friend (of coming up on 20 years) is Gary Brown, who is also my webmaster, my designated listener-to-my-real-and-imagined woes, and my run-to-every-time-I-have-a-problem-with-my-computer (which is at least several times a week) guy. He is infinitely kind, generous, and patient with everyone, but I know I must tax his limits frequently. It is simply understood that should either of us ever need anything, the other will be there.

Why, then, you might ask, are we not lovers/partners? Because the key element necessary for lovers/partners—missing between best friends—is sexual attraction/romantic love. Gary is the brother I never had. I can’t imagine brothers being any closer. But again the element of romance is totally lacking. (On a trip to Paris, arriving at our hotel after having been awake for over 30 hours, we were mistakenly given a room with only one double bed. Though we were exhausted, we waited four hours for them to find us a room with two double beds. Sharing a room, fine. Sharing a bed...uh, no way in hell.)

I hope you are blessed with at least one "best friend" who brightens and eases your life and without whom you cannot imagine your life.

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This blog is from Dorien's collection of blogs written after his book, “Short Circuits,” available from UntreedReads.com and Amazon.com, was published. That book is also available as an audio book from Amazon/Audible.com. I am looking at the possibility of publishing a second volume of blogs. The blogs now being posted are from that tentative collection. You can find information about all of Dorien's books at his web site: www.doriengrey.com.

Common Sense

Let us gather here today to mourn the loss of one of humankind's greatest gifts, which has guided us through some of our darkest hours—simple common sense—whose loss has significant and increasing consequences on our society.

I think, being honest, that we are all complicit in its loss by increasingly ignoring its value and doing little or nothing to come to its aid when under attack. However, politicians are at the vanguard of the assault.

Though Michele Bachmann, that great humanitarian and scholar, has blessedly departed from the spotlight, who can possibly forget her single-handed war on the most elemental forms of logic or common sense? She tells us that a trip President Obama (a.k.a to Republicans as "the Antichrist") made to Japan cost taxpayers $200,000,000 a day; that he took along an entourage of 2,000 people, who stayed in 735 luxury 5-star hotel rooms (at least that comes out to nearly three people per room—a sure sign of frugality ignored by Ms. Bachmann). She also told us, with the deep sincerity and profundity for which she is known, that our founding fathers worked tirelessly (this is in 1776, mind) until slavery was eradicated from the land. And the protest against her utterly egregious nonsense was a deafening silence.

But her exit from the political stage merely opened the door for the likes of Donald Trump, who no longer feels it even necessary to even mention common sense. He boasts of huge plans…HUGE!…to “make America great again” without bothering to give a single example of how this would be accomplished, and we all “oooooh” and “aaaaaah” and cheer in response. 

Are Trump and the other embarrassingly self-serving candidates laughed off the stage and forbidden to play with sharp objects? No, they are running for the office of President of the United States, and their every vacuous word is greeted with applause and knowing nods of total agreement by their followers.

As our society becomes more and more ruled by technology—the workings of which are unintelligible to the average human—we feel, correctly, that we have less and less control over our own destinies. As even trying to figure out how and why things and institutions work the way they do becomes increasingly more difficult, more and more people are throwing up their hands in frustration and saying to self-proclaimed pundits, "Okay, you tell me what to think," and those pundits, whose motivations are based far more on greed for power than altruism, are more than happy to oblige. 

That old saying, “For want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost,…” is as true today as ever; maybe even more so. And with every patently false and misleading statement issued, another nail is pounded into the coffin of common sense.

Can this trend be reversed? Possibly, but I fear it would require more time and effort than most people are willing to devote to it—there’s a football game on tonight, after all, and priorities are priorities.

But just because we've tossed common sense into the back of a sock drawer doesn't mean we can't take it out and start using it again. First, we must all realize that just because something is said on TV or read in a forwarded email or seen on Facebook does not make it true. As someone once said, if ten million people believe a lie, it is still a lie. Before passing something on a gospel is to ask the simplest of simple questions: "Does this really make any sense?" President Obama plans to give every illegal immigrant $400,000 a month, free health care, a new house, and a new car? Forget that even if he wanted to he could not get it passed through a congress which, if he said the sun was shining, would run for their umbrellas. Hey, a friend sent me an email of an article he saw in some magazine, so it must be true.  Muslims use a melon scoop to remove the brains of Christian babies? They said so on Fox News, so it has to be true.

Politics, of course, is not the only thing lacking the nail of common sense. Internet spam is obviously unaware of its existence. After railing against Spam endlessly, I still cannot comprehend it, let alone how any rational human being could ever, under any circumstances, believe a word of it.

Television commercials—and especially infomercials and those ads aired late at night—depend on the lack of the nail of the viewer's common sense.

Instances of the effects of the loss of these nails are endless, and to point to them all is like standing in the back yard at night pointing up at the stars.

But the nail's not lost; we can find it and use it. All we have to do is try.

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This blog is from Dorien's collection of blogs written after his book, “Short Circuits,” available from UntreedReads.com and Amazon.com, was published. That book is also available as an audio book from Amazon/Audible.com. I am looking at the possibility of publishing a second volume of blogs. The blogs now being posted are from that tentative collection. You can find information about all of Dorien's books at his web site: www.doriengrey.com.

Of a Certain Age

I bought my first house in 1968, in Los Angeles, when I was 33 years old. My parents had to cosign for it because, as hard as it is to believe, at that time banks would not give home loans to single men. Up until that point, I had either lived with my parents (until and for two years after I joined the Navy) or lived in an apartment. 

There is something…well, proprietary…about owning a home. The sense of saying “this is mine” has a definite appeal, as does the knowledge that since it is yours, you can do whatever you want to do with it, short of violating city codes. I have owned a total of five homes…one inherited from my mother upon her death, two more of my own in Los Angeles and two in Pence, Wisconsin.

But with home ownership comes a lot of responsibility and work. Both Los Angeles homes were relatively maintenance-free. The first had a swimming pool which was a bit bothersome to keep clean, but with only a small area of grass and some bushes to care for at the front of the house. The back yard had largely self-sufficient plants around a central cemented area surrounding the pool. Likewise, my second L.A. house required not too much work. It backed up to the Angelus National Forest, and the entire back of the property was a steep hill upon which very little grew. The front yard was a grassed area only about 20 feet deep, leading to a steep slope covered with native-to-the-area low plantings, the sidewalk, and the street. 

I was 50 when I moved to northern Wisconsin and took on the physical challenges of literally gutting and rebuilding a large, very old and in very poor condition house. While I did have professional help with the plumbing and electrical work, I did a large percentage of the “grunt work” myself. Part of the work involved tearing down a shed-like addition at the back of the house, and I used a lot of the materials from it to build a garden shed at the back of the property totally by myself. Later, when I sold the house, I bought a much smaller house about six blocks away and, again mostly by myself, converted the unfinished attic into a bedroom.

I really enjoyed owning my own home, even with the constant maintenance it entailed. Mowing the lawn in spring, summer, and fall; shoveling snow—and my area of Northern Wisconsin gets in excess of 300 inches—that’s 25 feet—of snow a year—began, after 20 years, to get just a little “old.” So in 2006, two years after the end of my successful battle with tongue cancer, I realized that I had reached that “certain age” where one seeks less physical labor rather than more, and began to toy with the idea of leaving the beautiful-but-monotonous isolation of the Great North Woods to return to Chicago (after 40+ years) and civilization.

With my only income being social security and sporadic book royalties, I knew I could never afford a “regular” Chicago apartment, so I looked into senior subsidized housing, applied, and was approved. I moved back to Chicago in September of 2006, and never looked back. 

Everything is a trade-off, and being in a subsidized apartment building is no exception. My one-bedroom apartment is perfect for my needs, is in an ideal location, and I pay probably less than one-third of the cost of normal Chicago housing. As in most apartment buildings, I have very little direct daily contact, and even less in common, with others who live in my building; not that they are not nice people, it’s just that our lives are so totally different, and while I match or exceed them in physical age, I consider myself much, much younger than them.

And I no longer have to mow lawns and shovel snow and clean gutters and patch and paint and….

So I guess being “of a certain age” has its advantages…not that I have any choice in the matter.

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This blog is from Dorien's collection of blogs written after his book, “Short Circuits,” available from UntreedReads.com and Amazon.com, was published. That book is also available as an audio book from Amazon/Audible.com.  I am looking at the possibility of publishing a second volume of blogs. The blogs now being posted are from that tentative collection. You can find information about all of Dorien's books at his web site:  www.doriengrey.com. 

“How 'ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm...?"

The American Civil War began a fundamental, basic change in the fabric of not only American society but of interpersonal relationships. Until that time, the vast majority of people never traveled more than 20 miles from their homes in their entire lives. The average person's total social existence was built upon the rock of family, friends, and neighbors. The Civil war created widening cracks in this foundation when it uprooted young men from the soil of the past. Taken from their farms and villages and transported to places within their own country they'd never been or even knew existed. This trend was vastly accelerated with America’s entry into WWI, and was perfectly summed up in the popular song, "How 'ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm, after they've seen Paree?" 

Following WWI, ages-long close-knit bonds between family, friends, and life-long neighbors crumbled rapidly as entire populations moved and shifted and blended.

Family remains the rock upon most people's lives are built, but as distance separated many family members, nearby friends became substitutes for far-off family. But the more mobile our society became, friends, too, like family, began to move away. Face-to-face meetings with friends were slowly replaced, as technology welled up to swallow us all, by the internet, which opened the door to the entire world. In cyberspace, there is no concept of distance. People who normally would never have even become acquaintances—probably never even known of each other's existence—became a new kind of friend: cyber friends who still probably would never meet face to face.

And as technology continues to rob us of our traditional connections to other people, as families and close-knit circles of friends break up into small pieces and scatter around the country and the globe, we tend to rely more on cyber friends. And as age and distance begin to take away our traditional friends and family, cyber friends become a larger part of our social structure.

I've found this particularly true for myself, and on all levels. Much of it has to do with the simple fact of my growing older. Family members and friends die; our face-to-face social contacts tend to dwindle. It's part of being a young adult to cultivate many close face-to-face friends, resulting in an active social life surrounded by people you can—and often do—reach out and touch. I am blessed that I still have a number of friends who date from my childhood, college, and young adult years. But most of them are scattered, now, and we use cyberspace to substitute for face-to-face meetings.

One of the most important and most overlooked casualties of the loss face-to-face contact with family and friends is the loss of physical contact. The emotional/psychological power of simple physical contact—a handshake, a hug, a casual pat on the back or arm around the shoulder—is a too-often-overlooked yet major casualty of our societal diaspora.

For me, right now, in Chicago, my face-to-face social network consists of my best friend, Gary, who I see almost every day, my friend Diane from my earliest days in Chicago, and Sandra, a woman with whom I worked after my return. I have a few people I think of more as friendly acquaintances than true, soul-deep friends, but it is a far different world, on a personal social level, from my 20s and 30s.

I find myself more and more reliant on my cyber friends for a sense of being connected with the world, and for the validation that face-to-face friends normally supply. I quite probably, in fact, have a much wider circle of cyber-friends than I ever had of face-to-face friends. I sincerely enjoy our exchanges (and their encouragement and support). I have been lucky enough to actually meet several of them, either on their visits to Chicago or mine to New York, and now count them as both cyber and face-to-face friends. And I am quite sure that, had we the chance to meet face to face, any number of my current cyber-friends could/would easily become friends in the traditional sense. 

So, as in all things in life, it is a matter of trade-offs. The world continues to change, and there is nothing we can do to bring the past back, other than in our memories. Would I give anything to be 28 again and to spend an evening with my mom and dad and aunt Thyra and Uncle Buck and my cousins, or with friends Norm and Tom and Franklin and Ray and Ace and the other wonderful people who were such an important part of my life at the time? Of course. But I am also truly grateful for the cyber friendship of so many wonderful people I've met on line through my books and blogs.

Face-to-face is great: mind-to-mind and heart-to-heart can be just as good. So let this blog be a form of thank you to all my friends, face-to-face and cyber. And there is always room for more. A cyber-hug to you all.

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