One of the things about all of the traveling that I’ve done over the past several months is that you notice similarities in the places that you visit. Since July I’ve been to St. Martin, Pittsburgh, Santa Barbara, Cleveland, Anchorage, San Juan, Pittsburgh again, Denver, Minneapolis, Savannah and … of course … Tybee Island.
Every single one has a significant number has a lot of places for rent … especially buildings that used to house businesses and condos and homes. Vacancy abounds.
It makes me mindful of these troublesome times we are living through. I can’t help but whisper a prayer of thanks because I still live in a house that I love, in a place that restores my soul and … for the moment anyway, I’m working a job that pays me well.
All of the “For Rent”, “For Sale,” “For Lease” signs reminds me that others have not been so fortunate.
Walking down the streets of each of these places I stop in front of plate glass windows into an emptiness … where things used to be … where people were fulfilled with work … and happy homes were made.
All of the travel has been grueling and I’ve stayed half-a-step in front of getting sick. Home again, I was craving normalcy. I left the loving arms of my bed, hopped on my bicycle and coasted in the dark to the Breakfast Club. My extended family there welcomed me with love and questions about where I’d been. I sipped coffee and we chatted as they prepared for the lines of a Sunday.
As I left, walking out on the sidewalk I literally bumped into him.
“Micheal,” he exclaimed with the familiar smile that I’d known for years.
Brian is gregarious, has this tremendous smile and is large. His infectious personality and presence forces you to enjoy him even if you’re in a bad mood. For years he was part of “Counter Intelligence” … the morning collection who drink coffee, solve all of the world’s problems and never share the solutions with anybody. He had moved on, living and working in Savannah and I hadn’t seen him in several years.
“Brian,” I exclaimed back and we embraced.
“I missed everybody?” he asked with the familiar smile and dancing eyes.
“Yeah, these days I’m the last one out,” I explained. “Come on in.”
We walked inside and I resumed my stool and he sat on the one that he used to and we chatted. After telling him that I’m doing well, been through a lot, no longer married but quite happy with who I’m with, I asked him how he’s doing.
He laughed in response. “Well … they’re shutting down the plant and moving it to California … and,” he paused and flashed his million dollar smile with the dancing eyes … “They’re not taking me with them.”
“Oh,” I said putting my hand on his shoulder.
He grinned again. “But you’re not getting rid of this transplanted Yankee,” he laughed, “I’m staying as a professional pain in the ass.”
“Good,” I said, meaning it deeply.
We chatted a while longer and I left him there, drinking his coffee and staring into space. Climbing on my bicycle, I pedaled down Tybrissa Street (Don’t get me started!) to the sun rising above the ocean. Coasting up on the crosswalk, I stayed seated on the bike kicking a leg out to rest on the rail and just stared at the sea, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, and watched the surfers ride the waves of chance.
It seems as though everyone I know is going through major transitions in their lives … traveling through difficult times. Job loses … moves they don’t want … separations and divorces … retirement planning after retiring and the math no longer works … enough work or money for now but worried like hell a month from now … or a week from now … or …
I understand.
“Hey God” I say to the sea.
“Thanks for now. It’s all I got. For now, I have this work to do … this place to live … these friends who love me so …but could you be a little kinder to those who don’t have these things? I don’t mean to bitch and please don’t take it out on me if you’re in an Old Testament mood today but we’re all just doing the best we can. I’m sure you’re busy. There are so many calling on you these days. The prayer hot line probably never stops ringing with that most basic of prayers … ‘Oh God, please?’”
I lean over to the other rail stripping off my Jimmy Buffett tee shirt continuing the prayer.
“Hey God!” I say out loud to the sea. “Maybe you need to be in an Old Testament mood after all. Part some seas! Make bread fall from heaven! Lead the people out of Egypt! Send locusts on Congress! Do something!”
“We need it.”
“My friends need it.”
“I do too.”
“Thanks for today … Please God, work on tomorrow I’m not sure how much more we can take.”
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Vacancy Abounds
One of the things about all of the traveling that I’ve done over the past several months is that you notice similarities in the places that you visit. Since July I’ve been to St. Martin, Pittsburgh, Santa Barbara, Cleveland, Anchorage, San Juan, Pittsburgh again, Denver, Minneapolis, Savannah and … of course … Tybee Island.
Every single one has a significant number has a lot of places for rent … especially buildings that used to house businesses and condos and homes. Vacancy abounds.
It makes me mindful of these troublesome times we are living through. I can’t help but whisper a prayer of thanks because I still live in a house that I love, in a place that restores my soul and … for the moment anyway, I’m working a job that pays me well.
All of the “For Rent”, “For Sale,” “For Lease” signs reminds me that others have not been so fortunate.
Walking down the streets of each of these places I stop in front of plate glass windows into an emptiness … where things used to be … where people were fulfilled with work … and happy homes were made.
All of the travel has been grueling and I’ve stayed half-a-step in front of getting sick. Home again, I was craving normalcy. I left the loving arms of my bed, hopped on my bicycle and coasted in the dark to the Breakfast Club. My extended family there welcomed me with love and questions about where I’d been. I sipped coffee and we chatted as they prepared for the lines of a Sunday.
As I left, walking out on the sidewalk I literally bumped into him.
“Micheal,” he exclaimed with the familiar smile that I’d known for years.
Brian is gregarious, has this tremendous smile and is large. His infectious personality and presence forces you to enjoy him even if you’re in a bad mood. For years he was part of “Counter Intelligence” … the morning collection who drink coffee, solve all of the world’s problems and never share the solutions with anybody. He had moved on, living and working in Savannah and I hadn’t seen him in several years.
“Brian,” I exclaimed back and we embraced.
“I missed everybody?” he asked with the familiar smile and dancing eyes.
“Yeah, these days I’m the last one out,” I explained. “Come on in.”
We walked inside and I resumed my stool and he sat on the one that he used to and we chatted. After telling him that I’m doing well, been through a lot, no longer married but quite happy with who I’m with, I asked him how he’s doing.
He laughed in response. “Well … they’re shutting down the plant and moving it to California … and,” he paused and flashed his million dollar smile with the dancing eyes … “They’re not taking me with them.”
“Oh,” I said putting my hand on his shoulder.
He grinned again. “But you’re not getting rid of this transplanted Yankee,” he laughed, “I’m staying as a professional pain in the ass.”
“Good,” I said, meaning it deeply.
We chatted a while longer and I left him there, drinking his coffee and staring into space. Climbing on my bicycle, I pedaled down Tybrissa Street (Don’t get me started!) to the sun rising above the ocean. Coasting up on the crosswalk, I stayed seated on the bike kicking a leg out to rest on the rail and just stared at the sea, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, and watched the surfers ride the waves of chance.
It seems as though everyone I know is going through major transitions in their lives … traveling through difficult times. Job loses … moves they don’t want … separations and divorces … retirement planning after retiring and the math no longer works … enough work or money for now but worried like hell a month from now … or a week from now … or …
I understand.
“Hey God” I say to the sea.
“Thanks for now. It’s all I got. For now, I have this work to do … this place to live … these friends who love me so …but could you be a little kinder to those who don’t have these things? I don’t mean to bitch and please don’t take it out on me if you’re in an Old Testament mood today but we’re all just doing the best we can. I’m sure you’re busy. There are so many calling on you these days. The prayer hot line probably never stops ringing with that most basic of prayers … ‘Oh God, please?’”
I lean over to the other rail stripping off my Jimmy Buffett tee shirt continuing the prayer.
“Hey God!” I say out loud to the sea. “Maybe you need to be in an Old Testament mood after all. Part some seas! Make bread fall from heaven! Lead the people out of Egypt! Send locusts on Congress! Do something!”
“We need it.”
“My friends need it.”
“I do too.”
“Thanks for today … Please God, work on tomorrow I’m not sure how much more we can take.”
Every single one has a significant number has a lot of places for rent … especially buildings that used to house businesses and condos and homes. Vacancy abounds.
It makes me mindful of these troublesome times we are living through. I can’t help but whisper a prayer of thanks because I still live in a house that I love, in a place that restores my soul and … for the moment anyway, I’m working a job that pays me well.
All of the “For Rent”, “For Sale,” “For Lease” signs reminds me that others have not been so fortunate.
Walking down the streets of each of these places I stop in front of plate glass windows into an emptiness … where things used to be … where people were fulfilled with work … and happy homes were made.
All of the travel has been grueling and I’ve stayed half-a-step in front of getting sick. Home again, I was craving normalcy. I left the loving arms of my bed, hopped on my bicycle and coasted in the dark to the Breakfast Club. My extended family there welcomed me with love and questions about where I’d been. I sipped coffee and we chatted as they prepared for the lines of a Sunday.
As I left, walking out on the sidewalk I literally bumped into him.
“Micheal,” he exclaimed with the familiar smile that I’d known for years.
Brian is gregarious, has this tremendous smile and is large. His infectious personality and presence forces you to enjoy him even if you’re in a bad mood. For years he was part of “Counter Intelligence” … the morning collection who drink coffee, solve all of the world’s problems and never share the solutions with anybody. He had moved on, living and working in Savannah and I hadn’t seen him in several years.
“Brian,” I exclaimed back and we embraced.
“I missed everybody?” he asked with the familiar smile and dancing eyes.
“Yeah, these days I’m the last one out,” I explained. “Come on in.”
We walked inside and I resumed my stool and he sat on the one that he used to and we chatted. After telling him that I’m doing well, been through a lot, no longer married but quite happy with who I’m with, I asked him how he’s doing.
He laughed in response. “Well … they’re shutting down the plant and moving it to California … and,” he paused and flashed his million dollar smile with the dancing eyes … “They’re not taking me with them.”
“Oh,” I said putting my hand on his shoulder.
He grinned again. “But you’re not getting rid of this transplanted Yankee,” he laughed, “I’m staying as a professional pain in the ass.”
“Good,” I said, meaning it deeply.
We chatted a while longer and I left him there, drinking his coffee and staring into space. Climbing on my bicycle, I pedaled down Tybrissa Street (Don’t get me started!) to the sun rising above the ocean. Coasting up on the crosswalk, I stayed seated on the bike kicking a leg out to rest on the rail and just stared at the sea, bathed in the golden rays of the sun, and watched the surfers ride the waves of chance.
It seems as though everyone I know is going through major transitions in their lives … traveling through difficult times. Job loses … moves they don’t want … separations and divorces … retirement planning after retiring and the math no longer works … enough work or money for now but worried like hell a month from now … or a week from now … or …
I understand.
“Hey God” I say to the sea.
“Thanks for now. It’s all I got. For now, I have this work to do … this place to live … these friends who love me so …but could you be a little kinder to those who don’t have these things? I don’t mean to bitch and please don’t take it out on me if you’re in an Old Testament mood today but we’re all just doing the best we can. I’m sure you’re busy. There are so many calling on you these days. The prayer hot line probably never stops ringing with that most basic of prayers … ‘Oh God, please?’”
I lean over to the other rail stripping off my Jimmy Buffett tee shirt continuing the prayer.
“Hey God!” I say out loud to the sea. “Maybe you need to be in an Old Testament mood after all. Part some seas! Make bread fall from heaven! Lead the people out of Egypt! Send locusts on Congress! Do something!”
“We need it.”
“My friends need it.”
“I do too.”
“Thanks for today … Please God, work on tomorrow I’m not sure how much more we can take.”
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