Tag Archives: date

Date

Date: (n) a particular month, day, and year

I can tell a lot about myself by what pops into my mind when I hear the word.

Date.

What is the first thing that wiggles its way to the forefront of my brain when I hear this word?

Because certainly, any time before the age of twelve, the word “date” would have been serious—referring to an upcoming test, a visit with an unwanted aunt and uncle, or a journey to the dentist.

Then it changed.

The word “date” became the possibility of interaction with a woman.

Am I going on a date?

Do you want to go on a date?

Suddenly the word evolved—from a grim hassle to a joyous possibility.

Then I move to a point that the word does not stand by itself, but because I am about to be a father, it is preceded by the word “due.”

What is your wife’s due date?

When will the baby be here?

On what date will you be rushing her to the hospital?

Maybe different from you, I had a season when the word “date” meant money. Being a writer and musician, the word “date” referred to an opportunity to perform my songs, sell my products, interact with an audience and maybe make some dough.

It could leave me all tingling.

Then there was a huge space of time when the word “date” represented upcoming events which would take my children through graduation and marriage.

What is the date of that ceremony?

What date will he be starting his new job?

And now that I’m a bit older, all the retired people beckon me to join them in measuring time by having a calendar for one purpose and one purpose only.

To register the dates of doctor’s appointments.

They frown at my reluctance.

They scowl at my rebellion.

Matter of fact, the offices of these medical technicians often call me, wondering when I plan on coming in for my date.

I always set a date with them.

And then I never show up.

 

Core Gender Identity

Core gender identity: (n) a person’s inner sense of being male or female

A couple of weeks ago I woke up convinced I was handsome. It was magnificent.

It lasted until I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Then I was conflicted. Should I believe what I woke up with? Or should I deal with funny wisdom on words that begin with a C
what I see? And is what I see what is really true, or rather, my perception of what I think truth should be?

After all, maybe I am handsome and my inner thinking about being handsome has been tainted by years of being deemed average.

Which notion in my brain should I follow?

Which path seems to have the most promise?

I remember when I was a young boy, just eight years old, I heard a performance by a man playing piano. After the concert hall cleared, I slipped back in, walked up onstage, sat down at the instrument and began to move my fingers the way I had seen the man perform. It didn’t sound a thing like what he produced. At first, I was angry. I wanted to be a piano player. (At least, right at that moment I did.) But it seemed that nature, or God, had favored this man over me.

I remember the first time I asked a girl out on a date. She said no. As did the next three in a row. It crossed my mind, “I wonder if they think I’m gay? Am I gay? If I can’t get a date with a girl, maybe that’s just Earth’s way of telling me that I’m gay.”

This thought quickly disappeared when the fourth girl said yes, and we went and made out like two fish swimming in the bayou.

Turns out I wasn’t gy—but maybe I was gay until I wasn’t.

I saw a man lift weights. He grunted and groaned but was very successful at it. I thought, how hard can this be? I walked over and tried to lift one end of the bar. Could not budge it. Does that mean I’m weak? That I should go out and buy protein powder to build up my muscles, or else I will be overcome by an enemy?

In the process of one day, the human brain of every person alive goes through so many contortions, so many questions, so many different ideas, that it is very difficult to land on true identity.

I don’t think we should ever deny, ignore or reject someone’s core gender identity, faith proclamation or personal belief.

But I also think if we are to be kind to one another, we will allow each other the chance to be dreaming, wondering or even confused—without holding each other to the present whim.


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Charcoal

Charcoal: (v) to cook over charcoal.

My dad tried hard.

I didn’t know it at the time–I was a teenager and I thought he was an old man. He was pretty old–older than most of the dads.

Sometimes he would imitate joy over having me as a son. I was usually watching television at the time, and unaffected by his attempts at
conversation. Then, when I needed five dollars to take a girl on a date, he distanced himself from me–protecting his pocketbook.

We never connected. But to his credit, he never stopped trying.

He even decided to go out and buy a really cheap grill from Buckeye Mart, complete with charcoal briquettes and lighting fluid. He was determined to grill hamburgers in our back yard.

He had no experience.

The first half hour was spent trying to figure out how to ignite the charcoal. Then he ended up wasting about two pounds of hamburger because he didn’t know you were supposed to wait until the fire went down. I faithfully stood by his side watching as he told me I would be taking over the grill in just a few moments.

I never did take over the grill.

The charcoal he bought was so cheap it wouldn’t stay lit and the lighter fluid was bargain brand and not very effective.

So at the end of the excursion, my father presented a platter of hamburgers that looked like charcoal briquettes, and some that were still raw.

It was a fiasco.

It would have been fine if he had laughed at himself or admitted his lack of foreknowledge. But he didn’t. He blamed Buckeye Mart for having inferior products and me for not being adequately motivated.

It is not a good memory.

But it does remind me that a sad man–who happened to be my dad–kept trying to please a very bratty son.

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Bale

Bale (n): a bundle of hayDictionary B

I think she liked me.

I know I liked her.

I don’t know how much I liked her. When you’re a teenager you’re so anxious to have romantic encounters that you’re willing to consider many obtuse options. It is amazing who looks good to you by Thursday afternoon at school when you really want to go out on a date for the weekend.

All summer long, I had been driving around town with this girl as we tried to conjure various adventures, while experimenting with conversation, learning how to communicate with someone of the opposite sex.

One day I told her I wanted to go out to a nearby farm and see my friend, Jack, who was working there baling hay. He chose this occupation in order to get in shape for the upcoming football season.

I knew she had a small crush on Jack, but I was not aware of the full extent of her hidden affections. When we arrived at the barn and Jack appeared in the doorway of the upper loft, shirtless, holding a pitchfork, with perspiration streaming down his pectorals, she lost it.

He looked like an image from a John Steinbeck novel, perfectly framed, with a sweaty, well-chiseled body. I peered down at my own well-nourished middle as she practically drooled, staring at the sight before her.

I thought to myself, this was not a good move, to come and see Jack.

We spent the rest of the day driving around, talking about how handsome Jack was and discussing how I should help her make connection with him.

I felt completely left out.

Rather than being the pursuer of budding romance, I was cast into the role of matchmaker.

I explained that I had planned to work on the farm this year, but discovered that I had hay fever.

She squinted, concern in her eyes, and said, “Hay fever?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Whenever I think about working in the hay fields, I break out into a sweat of great anxiety and fear.”

I thought it was particularly funny.

She didn’t even fathom my joke, but instead stared out the window … obviously conjuring images of a topless Jack. 

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Allowance

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Allowance: (n) a sum of money paid regularly to a person

I had to get out my educated pencil. (I am often glad that my writing tool sought higher education, since I didn’t.)

Having an educated instrument, I can take my meager abilities in mathematics and join with this smart pencil and come up with some fascinating figures.

Case in point: when I was eleven years old, my father reluctantly gave me twenty-five cents a week for allowance. Actually, he held a quarter out in front of me and always offered at least two or three regrets and four or five warnings about the value of money and how important it was to spend it wisely.

But you must realize, this was at a time when twenty-five cents would buy you five candy bars.

This was my allowance.

In comparison, when I lived in Hendersonville, Tennessee, with my children, I gave each one of them fifteen dollars a week. Making use of my magical pencil of intellect, I realize that this was very similar to the quarter I received when I was eleven. For now a decent candy bar at a convenience store can cost upwards to $1.50 to $2.00, and everything else is equally as inflated.

So which is better? To have a little bit of money with lots of possibilities, or have a lot of money with little possibility?

I also recall that by the time I reached my sixteenth birthday and wanted to go out on a date with a girl, my dad, who was now ailing from cancer, proudly handed me over a five-dollar bill for my first date. Similarly, when one of my young men in high school was going to be taking out a lady, it was necessary for me to give him three ten-dollar bills, which he still grumbled at, saying that he would have to really scrimp for dinner.

I know that the root word of “allowance” is “allow.” But even as a grown-up, I am learning that it is possible to simplify your finance even in the midst of raging increases. You don’t have to feel like you’re cheating yourself. Just “pass” on opportunities that don’t give you the payoff you desire.

For instance, when the alarming transition occurred and candy bars went from a nickel to a dime, I had to negotiate my purchases much more carefully, while waiting for the eventuality that my parents would catch on … and pop me up to fifty cents.

 

Algebra

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Algebra: (n) the part of mathematics in which letters and other general symbols are used to represent numbers and quantities in formulas and equations.

X marks the spot.

Actually, it marks the spot where I crinkled my brow and totally ceased to understand mathematics.

My high school algebra teacher was a recent immigrant from Japan who had a mastery of numbers and a limited capacity for language. He created a double whammy–I was trying to learn something that was Greek to me, with a Japanese accent.

On top of that, it was his first teaching position, having just graduated from The Ohio State University, and although he was eager to be an instructor, he was less than versed in some of the more humane possibilities.

So after he tried to explain algebra to me for the fourth time, he became frustrated and started to curse. It was in Japanese, but I will tell you that swearing has the same intensity in every langauge.

I don’t know what it was about algebra. For some reason, I was granted a B in the subject, even though I have no concept about the process whatsoever.

Imagine my glee when the next year I discovered that I would be taking Algebra II. It was very similar to the sensation of, “even though I’ve never been on a date, here is the woman I am going to marry.”

Honestly, I have never used algebra in my whole life. Perhaps I could have put it to some practical purpose, but that would have required that I understand its value, in order to know what purpose would have been practical.

Candidly, I toil under the concept of eduction. What I mean is, I do believe there are things we are taught which may not have any immediate value to our lives, but still have an esoteric importance.

Flatly, they make us seem civilized.

So I’m happy to report that I actually survived a semester of algebra, and Algebra II, and then ran out of the room in horror at the mere mention of calculus.

So for me: X=the 24th letter of the alphabet.