“The Road To 52”

Posted on June 15, 2018 by tanthonybland

Hiking at Dekorte Park Meadowland Trail. Lyndhurst, NJ June 9, 2018

Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. I believe December 2017 was the last time I posted. Well put on your seatbelts boys and girls, I have a lot to tell you…

As my thumbs tap on the screen, Darlene Zschech’s Your Presence Is Heaven is fading away into the background of my thoughts. I was listening to it as I walked into my office this morning. It is quickly being replaced by an inconsequential discussion about dogs and food, a loud conversation is Spanish, my boss yelling from her office for a coworker to bring her something because picking up the phone is far to hard for her to do. There’s also frustrating talks about problems and mistakes, created by miscommunication and poor management. The only thing missing today, is the co-worker who is usually speaking on the phone in Russian. What is not missing, is the loud mouth know -It -all, who sits next to me. With only 4 feet of space between us. As you can see, I’m in a ridiculously noisy environment. Thus the reason, dear reader, I haven’t been able to write… my office used be a quiet place to think, read and write during down times. Since the Loud mouth came up and was assigned to the desk next to me, I have slowly loss the freedom of concentration, read, think or write. Over the course of the year, I have become that employee that stares at their phone and plays games. Anything and everything to drown out the background noise! It’s so bad that my off time thoughts are flooded by the days words, discussions and pointless stories. So what does this have to with 52? You may be asking, we’ll there… remember the title? Road to…

Atlantic City. August 2015

June 14th marked 2 years since my wife died. I spent the day extremely tired as I have been fighting off a cold this week. I ended the day by picking up some camping equipment from REI and grabbing dinner at a Japanese restaurant. As my daughter and I sat down “See You Again” from Fast and Furious 7 started playing. For those of you, who haven’t followed me or read any previous blogs, Sharol and I loved those movies. Each for different reasons and for the same reasons. We were a team and loved the undying love and devotion of Letty and Dom, Brian and Mia and the brotherhood of Dom and Brian. I was a fan of Paul Walker before his FF days, she came along later. When Paul died it hit us hard… when we saw FF7 we both teared up and eventually cried. We stayed in the theater long after the credits were done… it was Paul’s last FF film and our last one together. Essentially, our last ride together as well. So when my 15 year old mentioned that the song was playing, I strained my ears and took that emotional ride. Minutes before that, my other daughter text me that her son was a scooper like his Nana. I cracked up!!! They were eating chips and dip(a Bland family staple). Okay… here’s the backstory, Sharol and I used to fight over the dip. I would dip my chips, she would scoop! Dragging the dip into a heap on her chips. This caused me to constantly turn the bowl around to keep an even amount… or else! No more dip. Go ahead, you can laugh, you know you do it too.

Dekorte Park Meadowland Trail. Lyndhurst, NJ June 9, 2018

So as we were driving back home after dinner, The Kid found the song on YouTube for me. I cranked it up and drove off. I ended the night by kissing my late wife’s picture, thanking her for being my wife and saying goodbye…

“But didn’t you say goodbye two years ago?” I can hear your thoughts as I write this. Yes, I did say goodbye but I never left. The world around me has changed(we’re not getting into the crazies today) people have moved on, yet I remained stagnant. Most of my family is spread out across America. My immediate family is split between New Rochelle, Westchester county. The older kids have move on and made frightening new strides for their families. Moving to The Bronx, Brooklyn and now two to New Jersey. A dear friend of mines will be moving to the west coast. Former classmates are getting their PhD’s this summer, my middle daughter is getting married… and I have a granddaughter that I’m watching grow up in pictures. Even the church has changed. You know, Sharol used to say, the part about dying she didn’t like was that life and the world would continue “as if I wasn’t here”. I’ve learned you don’t have to die for the world to leave you behind. I’m alive watching it happen to me, it feels really weird too. It’s like watching a time travel sci-fi movie. Where the guy is watching his life on a screen and trying to figure out what point he wants to go back in time to…

Hiking at Sachuest Point national wildlife refuge. 3 mile loop. Middletown, RI. April 2018

The 52 Hike Challenge

While the entire family has been evolving into something different, something new for each person, my progression has been slow and at times no movement at all. I’m kind of settled into this widower’s life style. Meaning, there’s no one partner to walk through life with. Over the past two years, dear reader, I have found my wanderlust again. As a child in school I spent hours staring out of the classroom Windows. Bored I guess, but whatever it was, I wanted to be out there. Out of school I spent my time playing in street, riding my bike, running through the building or at a friend’s house. As a teen, I traveled on the train from the Bronx to Harlem and Suger Hill where my cousins lived. Often times ridding my bike over the Macombs Dam bridge then back to my sister’s house in the Bronx. I’d sneak into Clubs with friends, just to dance all night and ride the train alone in the wee hours back to the Bronx. Whatever it was in me, I’d always wanted to go. Never stop just move forward…

Last year my daughter aka The Kid,and I went camping. She hated the bugs but loved the road trip and being away. This year I wanted to add to that. I joined a gym because I saw my strength diminishing. As we worked out together, I said I wanted to go hiking this year. It became my new obsession! Searching and searching, discovering that my busted knees and back may not make it. If you haven’t noticed I’m no longer on Facebook. I’ve just been on Instagram. While looking at pictures of travelers from around the world, I found the @52hikechallenge. Reading the story of the founders inpired me to go. I got my daughter to join me in this insane quest to hike once a week for 52 weeks. Yes! One whole year of hiking in all weather conditions. Feel free to follow our progress and cheer us on. The IG hashtag is #whitebeardandthekid So, going to the gym begin to take shape with a new purpose in mind. To train and condition the body, bad knees and all, to hike as high as it can go. I told her I may not have good working knees in the next few years and in a few years she’ll be college age. So hey, let’s go on this adventure. Let’s document it. She has gotten so used to travelling now, she wants to drive to Canada and hike The Appalachia trail…

Roadtrip to Pa. May 2018, pulled over in a truck stop to rest.

I had put aside my adventurous wanderlust years ago. The first life changing event was when I became a parent. I would still run off to a movie alone from to time to time. But Sharol tamed such lust in my heart. I no longer wanted to run or go, I found someone that I just wanted to stop for. No need to run off, but, I found that she too had a traveller’s heart and enjoyed the times we rented a car and hit the road. The excitement of packing for a trip or family vacation. Always finding a moment to be alone together. Before she died we had a couple of chances to get away alone. Gosh those were great and quiet times. Since her death and being on the road, it’s the only thing I want to. When I get to work Monday morning, I’m already planning where the next weekend’s adventure will be.

The hiking challenge has made it easy to go because every week there’s somewhere to be. Photos of other hikers and travellers and folks camping constantly encourage me to go out and experience the world around me. But in the beginning, I was uncomfortable enjoying myself, that survivor’s guilt kick in again. How could I enjoy life without her? Was it okay to enjoy living? Then I found this…

From another hiker and a widow, who like me, loss her spouse unexpectedly. It took a mouth to settle in my heart. Mostly because I know Sharol would’ve enjoyed travelling, that was the plan after the children were gone. My daughter’s feet on the dashboard reminded me of her mother’s, who put her feet up as we drove down Lincoln Highway in Lancaster Pa. We had left the kids in the hotel and took a drive. Every time I leave the city I remember days like that and I feel such a freedom and joy…

So as I embark on this challenge and purpose to travel across this country, get outside and meet people. Most likely I will be writing about it. Will you follow along, dear reader? You were by my side when all I could think about and write about was the process of grief that first year. If you have an IG account will you follow the hashtag #whitebeardandthekid and virtually raise your pom poms to be our cheerleaders? I look forward to hearing from you. Psst! I haven’t forgotten about writing, as I stated earlier it’s been difficult.

Until next time…

“Management From Hell”

Posted on December 7, 2017 by tanthonybland

A week ago I sat in a gathering of young and seasoned minds, all working in the communication field. Most were in Public Relations,it was a PR meet, greet and mentor. So many different areas of the field was represented. Some were in Crisis Management, Brand management, many employed by global agencies and much more. A small group of us sat and discussed issues such as the latest fall from grace in the world of media and corporate culture, I found myself intrigued. I missed that world… I missed academia… I had missed sitting amongst great thinkers and dreamers and creators. I felt normal as if I was in my element. I went home and started thinking about the past 3 years of my life. Had I learned anything? Indeed I did. I must admit I had forgotten how to be observant and how to think critically.

Communication: The text books will tell you that, communication is not a one or two directional thing, it’s cyclical. What I have found to the point of utter frustration, is that there are far too many holes in lines of communication. Many of which start with one person not liking their counterparts. Unfortunately, this is also counterproductive, because the staff is often confused as to whom to go to for help. Adding to that, is getting two different answers for the managers. The very same managers that demand that you communicate with them, with clarity. Even more damaging is when that poor information sharing doesn’t make it to your boss’s meeting… and somehow it’s someone else’s fault. Was it not his or her job to check on the progress long before the meeting?

Management: Nothing frustrates me more than poor or bad management. In fact, it frustrates and destroys the work environment, poisoning the staff that is supposed to be guided or trained a new skill. What does it mean for the future of that agency or company? You be the judge…

Organizational Culture: This is a system, if you will, of beliefs, values and mindset that governs the people of the organization. It’s the reason why they dress the way they do. The culture dictates, how people act, interact and do their jobs. It’s a reproduction factory.

The Leaders from the pit:

Manager A: The Exo, the Tyrant commander. Shortly before Christmas this manager, displeased with something begins yelling at the top of their lungs. Cursing and berating the department’s head in front of the entire department. It wasn’t long before the Exo turned and went after the rest of the staff. Hovering over them, demanding that the promptly answer her! The staff scrambled to their prospective keyboards. Each one pulling up something on their screens, to prove the worth of their lowly existence. One stuttered out of fear, when explaining the project to the Tyrant commander. The “leader” went around the room barking out “what are working on!” No one deared to challenge this behavior. Unfortunately this is common place.

Manager B: A department head, a Tumbleweed leader. This one like it’s codename, seems to just muddle along the road of leadership. Uncertain about the staff’s strengths or weaknesses. Lacking the ability to teach, train or inspire the staff to greatness. This manager is also known for yelling. The Tumbleweed is also disliked by staff, other managers and the brass. The department, functions in a perpetual state of flux. The manager’s own insecurity is projected on to and leaks from the pores of the staff.

Manager C: This is a team of Supervisors, Absentee parents. The pair have about 30 staff they’re responsible for training. It’s a customer service department, so it’s not rocket science. However, the staff is divided and often times fight amongst themselves, much like siblings. This is fitting, since the department is run like a junior high school classroom with a loud teacher who’s always yelling at their students to “keep it down”. The “supervisors” lack supervisory skills, were never taught how to manage people, don’t like each other, don’t communicate with each and are known for back biting. More than likely… were never handed a single book on management. The poor management has given birth to disengaged staff. It’s the same phenomenon that happens when parents are missing from their children’s lives.

Manager D: Apathetic Leadership, this is truly a sad state. This manager has probably been in their position for far too long. He has seen it all, the corruption, the abuse of power and of staff but does nothing to change the system or circumstance. When questioned about the ongoing abuse and berating of a staff member. The manager’s response was “I know”. And claimed nothing could be done because the person wasn’t under his direct management. Truly sad that, that young man had to endure years of abuse! Thankfully, his tormentor, after about 10 years, was fired. No thanks to the Apathetic Leader.

Manager E: The Stalworth, this individual is not the manager but by all accounts should be. This is the “go to guy”, he knows where everything is, where the bodies are buried, he is the phantom manager. When Tumbleweed needs something done, the Stalworth gets in done. When the Tyrant commander wants answers… the Stalworth is thrown under the truck and served up on a platter by the Tumbleweed….

It has been my displeasure to witness these managers first-hand. Would you believe they all work in the same agency?

Over 20 years ago I heard a pastor peach a sermon on Genesis 30:25-31:16. If you’re not familiar with the story, fear not, I’ll explain it, but I want you CEOs and managers to truly listen. Jacob’s father-in-law tried to cheat him. After many deals to win his daughter’s hand. Jacob made a deal, give him the spotted sheep. In his brilliance he took reeds and laid them in the water in front of the spotted sheep. The water was speckled and drew the spotted sheep and they multiplied exponentially. The pastor said that, what you put before the congregation is what your church will be… sounds familiar?

From the top, down, your company’s or agency’s culture will reflect you. In the above case, the organizational culture is one of fear, stress and intimidation. It is a highly toxic atmosphere. The leadership demands better performance but fails to lead by example. They fail to serve, to teach and to train. The results, is not only a culture of fear, but massive mistakes.

It is not too late for a change in your organization or in the above one. But it means seriously restructuring things, including firing key people if need be. Well, if you want a success story that is…

“The Resistance”

Posted on August 9, 2017 by tanthonybland

liberty Sitting at home today; I wasn’t feeling well, I started reading things on Facebook and in the news as well as other places across the internet. I’ve actually been doing this for the past few months, taking notice of a trend, a band of Freedom Fighters, fighting for Social Justice. You’ve seen them on YouTube, Smart TV, your Smart phones, talk shows and any and every social media platform or stage that will have them. They march with pink hats, they scream at the top of their lungs, They cry and have other public emotional outbursts, they have counted the number of genders and have deemed it worthy of scholarly learning. They champion for segregated safe spaces for black students on college campuses. Because of their work we now know it’s not okay; for a black man to buy a Wok and make Chinese food, for a white man to sell tacos, for a white woman to have dread Locs, for Koreans to sell Indian hair, for Puerto Ricans to make oxtails… and it is not okay, for a Mexican to wear a Bob Marley t shirt and have beef patties for dinner. Because of Cultural Appropriation, we now know that borrowing from other people is wrong. Because courageous woman marched, we have a greater understanding that masculinity is toxic.

Masculinity must be erased so that the true men may rise. This man will be in touch with and in full sync with his femininity. The old feminist began the work of shaping today’s new man and his new shaved and manicured masculinity. fem1 The new feminist are putting the finishing touches on what some may call, the emasculated effeminate, new man. fem2 Which seems to be widely accepted as the far superior alternative to the traditional bravado man. These fighters have shown us that the bear haired chested man with dirty nails from building homes all day, is no longer acceptable. fem5 He exudes strength and domination. This can only be feared and removed, because this show of strength is destructive to all humans. In short, gone are the days when men knew what men were. When burly men walked through the door; sweaty and smelly from a day’s work and kissed his wife who longed to feel his strong arms around her waist. Men like my dad who smelled like motor oil and violet candy. Mothers knew what was expected of their sons and the men of their lives. Today, these women enjoy their freedoms and confusion passed down to them from three generations of feminist… These warriors… freedom fighters for social justice have also given us a litany of crimes and discriminatory Acts done to our follow humans. I read how it is not okay for straight men to over look transgender “women” who are finding hard to find men. It’s discrimination. One person said that we (straight men) should “move past it”. Joining their ranks in ever growing numbers are well paid celebrities and other wealthy people. Their laundry list of offences range from unacceptable words and phrases to micro aggression and longing gazes. From the brand of bottle water you drink to the amount of money in your bank account. Most of them also have atheistic Progressive Socialist Communist political beliefs as well. Though their ranks are splinted and each group’s numbers are growing, more and more I read and hear of them coming under the banner and calling themselves the resistance(This puzzles me). They’ve called for us to resist, resist the new president, resist discrimination and so on…

“We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.”- Star trek; First Contact

The Borg’s approach to life has always troubled me, I like being a maverick. I love my freedom and my liberty. Check out the true meaning. Resistance: the refusal to accept or comply with something; the attempt to prevent something by action or argument. The more I read and hear and see on TV, the more I am frightened of what is becoming of the country I hold so dear. Black is White, Up is Down… and… those calling us to resist or else, are forcing conformity upon us! They say they are the resistance, that they want freedom and equality for all. But each day an internal gong rings louder and louder within me and I hear these words “I know not what course others may take but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!” these words were uttered by Patrick Henry on march 23, 1775. The context was breaking away from England’s subjugation and deciding whether or not to go to war. Also, getting away from a king and a government that was over seas, that was forcing upon them rules. But they wanted to be free to own land and profit from the goods they sold. But the king wanted them to pay taxes to England when they lived in a different country. Patrick Henry and the others fighting for independence and liberty were the Rebels, the true resistance.

The Borg wanted to force assimilation. They wanted to force people from other planets and their culture into submission. But first… their protective shields had to be lowered. They’d say that resisting them would be futile. Imagine that, it would be pointless to fight back. You should just lay down your sword and your will to live and thrive, in order for someone else to force conformity on you. In their eyes you have already loss. Men will be allowed in the women’s bathroom, just because they feel like a woman. The word Sex has been replaced by Gender in order to have what we now know as “multiple genders” including the ever confusing fluidity. So give up and give in.

Just like the Borg’s philosophy or as Jesus said in Mark 3:27 no one can rob a strong man’s house. First, you have to tie him up…. then you’ll have the run of the house. So, you need to get Americans to let down their guard, then you can slip in whatever you want. It wouldn’t matter because they’ll be asleep. The entertainment industry is the easiest access point. Get the people laughing and giggling at alternative life styles, then add a measure of soft porn, sprinkle it with half witted manboys, with an added measure of teenagers are starter than their parents. What’s left, is a pliable mind ready to be programmed to accept an agenda that will ultimately destroy them… listen dear reader, how else can you explain two and a half to three generations later, young black college kids fighting for segregation. Senseless isn’t it? Understand this, when your freedom infringes upon my liberty we have a problem. I don’t care if a man wants to suck another man’s face. I don’t need to see it no more than I need to or want to see any other couple, as my parent’s generation used to say “Get a room!” And you can not pass laws forcing people to like it or like you. You can’t force me or others to love or respect you. NO amount of hair coloring or foot stooping is going to change that. The so-called warriors may get an unconstitutional law passed or even stack the deck with government officials willing to push such legislation… but they will never make/force anyone to like them or their cause. Why? because it’s a heart and personal thing. You can’t make a woman love you, you can’t make a man love you it’s not something that can be forced… or else that’s rape or some other abuse. This is the sort of thing these SJW’s claim people are doing to them, forcing “themselves” and “their morality” on them…

Dear reader, when I started penning this, over a month ago now, I had heard of a woman and mother who told her sons that they essentially rapist and part of the “Rape Culture” I posted a video on fb of a woman who express my same view of the subject. My oldest son commented with commonsense and was attack for his views, I told him I wasn’t going to get into a pointless social media fight. Here’s the thing, he said that there was nothing wrong with masculinity and nothing wrong with men being rough or strong or aggressive, because it’s part of our nature. He also expressed that a rapist is just that and it has nothing to do with a man’s masculinity. He’s correct. The person told him that those things, especially for black men, can be dangerous and get you killed. In fact the person that the young woman in video would “change her rhetoric if she found herself with a “dangerous” black male” Of course my son was pissed at the mention of ethnicity and questioned why “race” had to be brought into the discussion. Gosh, I love it when people tell me how life is for me as a black man and I always enjoy the soft bigotry of low expectations. Of course revel in the thought of people who don’t live in this country but have soooooo much to say about our issues, especially on immigration! Anyway, since I started this the lunatics have turn it up a notch and have move to tear down statues, those folks that say black lives matter to them, have made a list of demands for white people, White folks are stepping over themselves with self hate, a cornucopia of anti-american loonies descended upon Charlottesville. And no, I don’t care what their acronyms are, they don’t not have the best interest of this nation in mind. In fact their purpose is the tear down our country. Everyone, is clamoring about freedom but they keep stepping on the freedom of the rest of us. Things like this is going on in public schools. Why? Because according to media and social media it’s the new In thing to do. To indoctrinate our kids in set of morals… forcing it on them. It’s so ridiculous now, that a woman I read about said that her child was “Transgender”. At 3 years old?! Parents have lost their minds…

All of these antics have only served to be fodder for anger. Just like before the 2016 election, people were getting tried of having things forced on them. The 8 years before had made many allowances for this so-called resistance, meanwhile the nation was getting weary of it. on election day much to the chagrin of the media, celebrities and other talking heads, the country pimp slapped them…. Here’s why.

Their maybe legitimate concerns within the gay community, legitimate concerns facing poverty, the black community, immigrants, energy, terrorism whether foreign or domestic and so on. But when you allow the crazies, the co-called “Activist”, the rich movie stars, the Beta males, the man haters and so on to take control of your cause, no one is listening anymore. Seriously what woman does Ashley Judd represent? None that I know of. I went to a restaurant one morning for my tea; I’d give you the name but some petty person would go after them, anyway the young woman called me “Hun” then as I was leaving said “have a nice day sweetie…” I left the store feeling odd. I couldn’t figure out why, then it hit me! I should be offended! But I wasn’t, it felt good to hear those words. Heck, my late wife called me Hun all the time. It was odd because we as a Society have come accustomed to finding offences, in everything! We don’t speak to each other like we use to, we don’t compliment anymore… out of fear we’ve broken some unwritten or written law we didn’t know existed. We don’t appreciate much anymore, Americans are walking around all tensed and bounded up. As my co-worker said “Everyone needs an enema!” But this is not who we are, to prove it I shut down that small world called facebook for a month and concentrated on the world around me.

I’ve been travelling up and down the east coast with my 14 year old daughter. For the purpose of this I’ll disclose our ethnicity. Be ready to gasp! We are… black, brown, colored Lol, we are non-white Americans. Yep. Guess what we found? Americans are not what the talking heads say they are. We actually care about one another. The problem is as our president said the other day, the media is dividing us. He wasn’t the first to think of that… remember, I stayed away from fb for that very reason. The internet hasn’t brought us closer it has pulled us apart. Each social media is divided by friends and likes. If your friends are just like you, think like you, chances are that same “fight video” is going to travel in a circle, a small circle at that. The media, news and fake news and social media are set up according to their biases, they lean Left, Right or Middle. However about 90% of the media outlets are Left leaning. This mean we hardly ever get balance information. Now, if your not going to go outside of your small circle to find balanced info what do you think your intake is…? Think about it, how is that the gay community, which is about 3 or 4% of the population gets so much media coverage? How about the screaming crazies? When your circle is small, you will think that this all that is happening in the world. Clearly you’re not seeing any good things. The knuckleheads on cable and other networks spent years and hours telling the world HRC was going to win. The people in closed circled social media believed it. They didn’t think of the real people who knew HRC and who were tired of what was happening around them… America chose someone else. These people are not the resistance!

I am, the Resistance!. Why? Because I refuse to let a few or even many knuckleheads tell me what to think or feel. I refuse to think that all cops are out to kill black men, I refuse to put a skirt on a two boy just because he’s playing with his sister’s doll, I refuse to through Jesus under the bus and put my complexion in the forefront of my beliefs. I resist! I refuse to teach my children that there is something wrong with them, other than a poor attitude. I refuse to raise victims that will demand something from others that they didn’t earn. I will stand for liberty, for freedom, I will resist anyone that tries to take it from me and mine. I will resist the enemy of my soul who wishes to destroy it… and I most definitely will resist the enemies of this nation both inside and out that seek to tear us apart. I urge you dear reader, to join the real Resistance and resist regurgitating the videos and negative content that divides our country. But spend more time building it up. Tell the good and great stories that the ratings and following hungry folks won’t tell. Stop listening to the talking heads and wealthy movie stars, who constantly rail against other rich people then tell you to hate them. Stop listening to the boneheads, that tell you that your “race” is better than someone else’s. You know the truth! A poor Mexican and a poor white American or any other ethnic group, are all still poor. No one enough to eat and please do yourself a favor, shut down the electronic world once in a while and go out into the real world.

resist

I will pray on my knee and I will fight on my feet… I will not be Assimilated. I will resist…. I am, The Resistance!

“I know not what course others may take but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”

Until next time…

“Misfire”

Posted on July 19, 2017 by tanthonybland

I started watching a new Netflix series “Friends From College” this is not a highly intellectual show and like all things Netflix sex is at the top of it’s list. So the show opens with a couple passionately engaged in sex and an affair. Then… Something goes wrong. It is rated TV-M, which is basically an R- rated show. I watched another episode and then it hit me, how many married couples experienced a misfire in the bedroom? How did they handle it? Then I debated about writing about it. But… then I thought, why not?…

This will NOT contain graphic material of any kind nor is this a how to. Just simply a thought that some may feel uncomfortable about. Don’t worry I’ll go first, with an embarrassing personal story but first…

I did a quick search on sexual accidents. Boy, were there some doies (is that a word?). But somehow the quotes below were a running theme for young, dear I say, insecure men. Any man married for more then 3 years and upwards of 10+ knows all sorts of things happen in the bed. Most of which… you just have to let go. And a mature wife/woman will do the same. Anyway, read the quotes and I’ll be right back.

“Girl laughing during sex: good or bad thing”- Body Building. Com

Poor thing, here is one person’s response

depends

if started laughing when you took your pants off -bad thing
if shes a virgin-nothing really, she just seen if for first time

if she started during sex- bad thing, it means you suck

if she started after sex-can also be a bad thing.

Have you ever burst out in laughter? I mean, really, sex is a serious thing. Absolutely no laughing matter. Yet…. it happens! So do accidents, sometimes the kind you don’t tell others. “Hey, Harold what happened to your arm?” Harold looks like a deer in headlights, smiles slightly, then gets serious. “I was helping my wife move the dresser”. The truth is, Harold and Sadie got a little ambitious. Harold tried lifting up his wife on the dresser… she was heavier than their earlier days. His weaker arms wavered, his foot slipped, his back twisted, Sadie gasped, hit the top, fell forward on top of Harold. Harold attempted to break the fall but twisted his arm under him… and Sadie plopped down on top of him. Both layed naked on the floor laughing. Then agreed, not the tell the doctor how the arm got busted.

How about, you’ve missed each other ALL day… and the foreplay began at breakfast. It was, the look, you know the day at work will suck beyond compare. You reach for the tea cup and get a whiff of her floral perfume and it sends your body into overdrive. She shifts her eyes inquisitively. Oh! Runs through her mind… she moves her hair behind her ears then leans in for a kiss. “I’ll see you later honey…”. Then she slips out the front door.

You text all day, for the more adventurous you sext all day. The day sucks as you thought so you plan to meet after work. The kids will be fine, let them open a can of that famous chef, Boyardee. He makes ravioli too. The clock on the office wall signals your release! 5 o’clock! So one last text “Hey sweet lady. I’m on my way to”. The entire train ride you’re singing The Four Tops song “Working My Way Back to You” ….. the movie was great, you laughed so hard you had a headache. But you hold hands and cuddle in the corner of the oddly late night crowded train.

Yes! The kids are asleep! You close the windows to drown out the noise, the bedroom is alas quiet. She makes her approach… giving you the look… your head hits the pillow, she lays on top of you… and you start laughing uncomfortably. She rolls over to the side “what’s so funny…?” She asks. You just got the joke you missed in the movie. After repeating the line, both of you laugh… for hours! You end up talking until you fall asleep. So, how many of you, dear readers, have done that one? Hey, I slipped off the bed once, darn near broke my neck. After the initial “Oh! Are you okay…?” Laughter followed. Loud and hard. By the way, though it was not the case, might I say that, satin and silk sheets look good. Even great in movies and on television… But in real life. Meh. When you are tired or in pain, it’s no fun sliding all over the place.

One morning my wife and I woke up in pain. Her back, my back and knees hurt. I went into work the next morning. Someone asked how I was doing. I said, I was fine except for the pain. Then… “my wife and I both woke up with our backs hurting…” an older coworker looked up at me “Well… what were you two during last night?” Nope she didn’t miss a beat. Everybody laughed at me. I don’t remember what we did the night before, but love making wasn’t involved. It was just the pains of getting older and arthritis. But… I let them go on believing what a stud! When I got home I told my wife the story while we were going to bed. After rubbing Tiger Balm on her back and putting a Salonpas patch on my knee. Yep, we laughed and…. received an awesome reputation to boot.

I must caution you, dear reader, about the dangers of eating spicy food, raw vegetables or carbonated drinks before meeting you spouse bedroom playtime. Now, some of you are laughing out loud right now. But some of you are shaking your head in agreement. BECAUSE … you know the truth and it’s happened to you. For you younger and insecure ones, get over yourselves. Sex is not like it is in the movies. No one takes off their clothes and sticks a perfect landing. Nope, its messy and often times unpredictable. Unless of course, you have the above mentioned combination. We all know the results. Gas must be released! And usually when you don’t want it to. Indeed it can be hilarious

Now, for you younger couples… enjoy your misspent youth and the reckless imitations of on screen romance. A cold hard kitchen floor looks good on screen, it sounds good in your 20’s. But no one in their right mind at 40+ years, certainly not in their 60+ years, is going to crawl down on a COLD floor, especially facing the fact that they aren’t getting back up without help. It ain’t happening! In fact, many older couples will probably tell you, if you ask, that they’ve become more creative in their older years. Yep. Couples enjoy awesome sex in their golden years. Its all about being in decent health. This might shock your tender ears or in this case, your eyes, but if they were freaks in youth odds are they’re still are. Psst… the body gets old not the mind. In most cases, again, it’s about how healthy the couples are.

In my search for weird and funny sex accidents I came across some of the strangest things. One involved a couple under water. Under water! Really?! People are crazy. The things that happen on a normal day is enough. Like, tripping over the clothes you just took off and bumping you head. The results, 8 stitches. That, you can get away with when explaining it to the triage nurse. But… try explaining, scuba gear, flares and jello. Go ahead, I’ll wait…

Okay, just one more. “Cindy. Hey girl, what’s that on your back? Don’t tell me he put his hands on you” Cindy’s eyes searches the room for an invisible fly as her mind searches for last nights events. Oh shoot! She remembers. “Oh, it’s nothing. I slipped in the shower and rubbed up against the wall”… “oh, no girl, that’s a bite mark…” Cindy looks straight ahead “Um….”

Well, unfortunately Cindy is not as good of a story teller as her husband Zac, when it comes to spinning the tales of their sexual misfires. Lord knows, sweet little church usher, Cindy couldn’t say what really happened. Cindy got caught up in the pop frenzy over the latest accepted soft porn author. Lola Spankastein’s “25 Pleasant Surprises For Him” intrigued her, so she secretly read the book at night while Zac snored. She wanted to spice up their 10 year marriage. Well, she sure surprised Zac when in the middle of their passionate night, she whispered “bite me…” Zac thought about it but all good husbands do as their wives ask…

“Um…” “Hey, Cindy I need your help on this report. You got a minute”? Saved by the boss she thought. Then walked off touching her shoulder with a smile. Go on, raised you hands if this one is you. Well, go on there’s no one in the room but you, dear reader. Ha! I knew it. Like I said all sorts of things mishaps happen in the bedroom. How about a cramp?! Have you ever caught a cramp and yelled, but it wasn’t because your spouse was awesome. But because a sharp pain just shot through your hip, leg, neck or toe. Now, that, can end the fun in an instant. Wait! Then you have to sit still in that awkward position, naked, until the pain subsides. Man oh man, the stories we can never tell…

Well, dear reader, the poor kid who sought out an online forum for his answers didn’t get, in my opinion, good advice. A young single man obsessed with his size would feel humiliated if laughter broke out. The same with an overly self-conscious young woman. In fact, I’d say that the ladies, because of current culture, would be more humiliated if you laughed. Many of them are wonder if they look acceptable to you. Anyway, married folks know that blank happens. And over the years we’ve seen it all. Including and not limited to, dysfunction. Just take it in stride. I hope that, that young man finds someone like your spouse, dear reader, and the two of them can share and laugh at inside jokes… or should I say, misfires like you.

Until next time…

“With and Without Her: My Year Alone”

Posted on June 14, 2017 by tanthonybland

Sitting on this bench in Battery Park today, in the stifling heat; my mind flashed back to a year ago. Sharol and I trying to get some time together before her operation. Before she wouldn’t able to walk long distances and dance or sit for long periods of time. Before, months of physical therapy and Recovery. Before, internet grocery shopping. Before, waiting for me to come home and cook and clean. Before boredom creeped up on her…

I texted her the menu from the cafeteria next door. She texted when she got there, I met her at the front desk… even though I thought the dress she had on was an ugly print, I wholeheartedly appropriated her in a dress. And it fit her form well and she looked good too. I left the house before her so I didn’t see what she was wearing. Wouldn’t you know it, we matched! That’s not the first time we did. In 19 years, it happened quite often. I sat on the very same bench today. That was a beautiful but hot day and a great night. That was on Monday, 8 days later, she was gone….

It’s almost midnight up here at Rodgers Rock Campground , on Memorial day weekend. The kid is snoring, reminding of her mother. There’s a tiny bug crawling on my lantern casting a giant shadow along the tent wall. I forgot the blankets so we’re a little cold. I left my book; a collection of Sherlock Holmes novels, at home so there’s nothing to do and the fire has gone out. So I decided I’ll write this…

What I’ve learned over the past year is this. Like love, you can’t hide from pain or more to the point. You can’t hide from grief nor the losing of someone. It’s something you must feel, you must go through, you must experience. If you fight it or better yet, try to fight it you will exhaust a lot of energy and eventually you’ll lose. Running away from the feeling of losing a spouse (or love one) is as futile as a hamster running in a wheel. Trust me, I’ve spent most of this time fighting one pain in particular;loneliness. It is a hell I have never liked. We’ll talk about that later…

My daughter and I went to visit my other daughter and her husband. They happened to be camping at the same camp ground. They, like I, were booking sites for the long weekends of the camping season. I’d planned to be closer to home but my equipment had taken nearly 2 months to arrive (warehouse issues) so I stopped looking. When the company contacted me and worked out a deal, I begin my search again. But the season had already started. The only available campground was 5 hours away. A day before leaving my daughter texted me that they had found a place for the weekend too. It was the same place. Their site wasn’t too far from us. But it was a good walk, over steep hills!

After our visit we went back to our homestead and found our fire buring nicely. This, after several failed attempts. The kid went inside and I set in front of the fire. The warm glow of yellow and orange flames were beautiful. I looked over at the empty chair next to me and whispered. “You would have loved this…” my heart smiled, because I imagined Sharol sitting next to me. We had gone away once and had the opportunity to sit in front of a fireplace. It was awesome! We were eating Chinese take-out, Mongolian beef. That was the night we planned to write our autobiography. We actually started thinking and writing out themes on a legal pad. Whether it’s a fireplace or camp fire,warm dancing flames are a magical thing.

In the daylight our little homestead over looked the river surrounded by lush green mountains with nothing but open sky above us. Indeed, Sharol would have loved it. Much like Chris Stapleton’s song, “Whiskey And You” I allowed myself to feel. To feel the absence of my bride.

“I’ve got a problem but it ain’t like what you think. I drink because I’m lonesome and I’m lonesome ’cause I drink. But if I don’t break down and bring it on myself it’ll hit out of the blue” – Whiskey And You.

It felt good to just let it happen. Sad but good. I was able to enjoy the moment. And in that it felt as if Sharol was enjoying it with me, not because she was there but because I didn’t fight the pain that she wasn’t. Fighting it would only serve to make me more lonely without her. The guy in Stapleton’s song, drinks to feel… to avoid the sadness creeping up on him. That, dear reader, is where I’m at right now. Creating the atmosphere, space or time where I can feel rather than not feel. I work all day, come home, cook and care for our youngest. Juggle appointments, bills, school events, daddy daughter date night and so on. There’s little time to mourn or reflect. So quiet moments away from the city or lunch time walks give me the time to feel. Different times bring different feelings. For example, a week ago the kid went on her school trip. It was an overnight trip… I woke up at 5am made her breakfast and lunch then drove her to school at 6:30am. It wasn’t a particular good morning. When I got home, the stress of working at an unfulfilling job where I feel trapped, being without Sharol’s input… And! I’d be alone, hit me. I laid down and couldn’t get back up. I looked up at Sharol’s picture and “it‘s you and me…”

Frequency…

I grabbed a ton of snacks turned on the Xbox and TV. I finished the series Turn and looked for something new. I couldn’t concentrate, so I mopped the kitchen floor and made some calendar reminders… then started watching Frequency. Halfway through the first episode the tears started to flow. By the end, I begin to ask God, out loud, “Why can’t life be like life this show?” Seriously, it would awesome if I could pick up my cell, send a text and the message crosses time and eternity. Then in an instant see My Wife Sharol flash across the screen. “Where are you hon? She says. “I’m sitting in your chair, where are you?” I ask. “Um… on the boardwalk waiting for you” and it hits me! “Wait. Who is this!?” I text back. “It‘s Sharol…your wife, silly man. Hurry up“… after some back and forth. I realize It’s 2012, she’s in Atlanta City. We were going for a walk but I told her to go ahead downstairs. It’s 4 years before her death. After some time… I’d reveal the truth. She’d be heartbroken that I was alone and in such a state without her. Then the questions would begin. The kids…? “Oh my goodness, Tyrone, Hannah..?!
Dear reader, it would a simpler life, if life were like a TV show. I’d be able to get advice on what to do about my job and other important decisions. But life isn’t like that, we tend to drown real life things out with whatever we can. For as long as we can… then when tragedy comes, we’re unprepared for it. We are all guilty of it on some level. I guess; the best way to look at and live life, is as if it’s your last day every day. In real life, no matter how far you run away it will catch up. If life were like Frequency, I’d tell Sharol “You weren’t alone. You weren’t violently attacked like you always feared. I held you, breathed into you…Hannah was there…” And that, dear reader, would have started a paradox. It would have effected the future. It would have explained the last few years of married life. Where we lived each day like we wouldn’t see the other again. It would explain “always kiss good night”. It would explain my alarm, that was set at 10pm… to Kiss Sharol. And I did so, even when we were mad at each other. It would most definitely explain, her holding my face and saying “I love you, Tyrone”…

Running…

Okay… I said I’d get back to my particular issue I’ve been fighting, this past year. If you’ve kept up, you’d see I have been on a very public, emotional roller coaster. I did so purposely because as I have stated before, as an author I am both a public and a private figure. My writing buddies urge me to write because it would have helped me deal with the loss of my wife. I didn’t believe them but being a creative type person, I know that if we do not engage in our creative abilities we go bananas. So I use that as my process over the past year… though it has seemed to be a rollercoaster ride. There has been one running theme, loneliness. I have tried everything I could think of to escape the inescapable. I continued our date night, it’s morphed into a date night with our youngest. It is now our own thing. For our weekly time, marriage Mondays, I’d often tried watching something we watched… it didn’t work well. Our Friday night ritual Remains the Same. A movie and wine… after work,it’s all I can do. But I still missed the companionship of a woman. It took me some months but I couldn’t take the silence of my wife’s daily text, lunchtime text, photos of her at lunch or walking… or our usual banter(*my children will be modified by the following picture I will spare you all her response).

I joined some online dating sites just to talk to someone. Boy, was that a mistake! Just when I thought I met a pen pal… poof they were gone or nuts. Dude, one said she love Jesus, told me the church she went to then ask for my astrological sign. I’m like, what…?! Well, apparently it wasn’t going to work out when I told her I was born in May. Lol. I wasn’t looking for it to work out. I was looking for a conversation. That was during a phone call, the first day, the first time! Nothing I did changed the empty silence. There were nights when, I skipped pass the two glasses of wine, finish the bottle, had a great night’s sleep and woke up to the void. Because you can’t hide. It took me 11 months to learn to stop running. To embrace the feeling… I was a lone wolf most of my life. Never thinking I’d be happy much less find love. I did. It’s gone. It hurts… I didn’t think I would make it through the night a year ago. I didn’t want to either… by God’s grace, I made it through a year. Most of the sting is gone. Most of the sting. I was reminded two day ago that everything isn’t over. The kid was making salad for dinner and sliced through her thumb. The walked into the kitchen and saw blood everywhere. Why? Because she panicked. Sharol always prided me for my calmness in the midst of a disaster. It really was just on the outside, inside I was always a nervous wreck. I talked my daughter through it, “okay, run some water on it. How deep is it..? Put the paper towel on it and squeeze tight to stop the bleeding…” while she was calming down. I had to think fast! This was going to a hospital trip… “okay, pick up the pepper and whipe off the table. Good she was something to occupy her mind. I quickly changed clothes and got to the hospital. I was fine until… the realization. I was in the same ER with her mother a year ago. My daughter laid her head on. When the doctor called us in, I started to have a small panic attack, my trouble breathing turned into me crawling up the walls. I can’t do this again. This can only be seen by me. So I thought. “Dad your doing fine“… She ended up getting 5 stitches. When we were done and about to leave, the kid said “You did good… and I‘m alive” then stuck out her hand for a high five…

She fell asleep on the couch. Like her mom, I couldn’t help but watch her sleep, keep watch. Monday reminded me, dear reader, you can’t, I can’t, we can’t, run away. Things are going to happen to us… for me, the adjustment of loss and living life, like many of you, it is a process. Though tedious at times, nevertheless it is a process that must happen.

I leave you with(click) these encouraging words from Sharol that she spoke to our daughter who was turning 13 at he time. I won’t be writing about this again, unless perhaps it ends up in one of my books. I thank you, my dear readers, for following and reading along with this season of my life. Thank you for your encouraging comments. I pray that at the very least, one of you were encouraged, felt normal. Being the surviving spouse is no easy task but we can get to the other side of grief.

Until next time…

“Without Her: The Fate of The Furious…”

Posted on May 16, 2017 by tanthonybland

What is the Fate of the Furious? 11 months later and 2 years after our last ride together…

I recently saw the latest thrill ride from the Fast and Furious sequels. Because I’m like my dad and like cars that go zoom! I was not disappointed. Before going, as usual I ran through the series at home. Most of which I’ve seen at the very least, 4 to 5 times each. Some I’ve seen in the theatre 3 times. What can I say, I like muscle cars and the thunder roaring engines. Pops was the mechanic, I just love to fly… I mean, drive. My wife loved thrillers, a well told drama and… action films! Uncommon to most women, she like things that go boom! Films where the anti-hero and hero went through hell and and high water and still survived. Films where butts were kicked and names were taken. Films where you could feel the rush of blood. Often tears followed the triumphant hero. It didn’t matter if it were male or female, just that they were a fighter, much like herself. But don’t get it wrong, she was a Flight Plan kind of a woman but all feminine to. Think of it like this… her locs let down, long drape earrings hanging down the length of her neck, a beautiful but comfortable dress, and mc boots! The older girls would tease her about going out with me wearing Crocs with a dress. Neither of us cared. She needed comfort and functionality. Heck, have you watched Last Man Standing? She loved the wife’s clothes, but she also loved Lindsey from Chicago PD. She even bought a pair of Lindsey-like boots. Lindsey is a butt kicking detective in the Intelligence Squad. So, you can see the appeal and identification with the likes of Letty, Lindsey and Trinity. And the affinity for the love stories that came with those women.

She was also the kind of women that didn’t mind to be rescued by a man. A big, beard wearing muscle bound, manly man. Or just a manly man. Boy oh boy was she excited to see Gerard Butler shoot his way through every bad guy, to save the president in Olympus has Fallen. Also proud when Aaron Eckhard who played the president, stood up to the terrorist. We both cried when the helicopter crashed and Angela Bassett died in London has Fallen. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think that, that scene would play out in real life…our life, three months later.

March 16, 2016 We went to see “London Has Fallen” another awesome date. I loved being out with her.

Our emotions are raw and on the surface during movies and TV shows when we are invested in the characters. When they become real to us because of our experience or just great acting and directing. Fast and Furious had that effect on us.

I was a Paul Walker fan long before the films. Sharol found him later (just like Liam Neeson), and when the on scene friendship developed between Brian and Dom so did her affinity for the relationship of Dom and Letty. We continued through the films and they all became family to us. Paul Walker ‘s death shocked her and rocked me. Now as a fan, I wondered what the fate of the Fast and Furious was. As a writer, I was scared because the film was halfway done. But they pulled it off. But not before killing off Giselle and leaving Han like me, broken hearted. Then later killing off Han. So, now Revenge was the driving force of 7… It ends with a farewell to Paul Walker. Now, the series was without it’s principal character, and an uncertain future for the rest the of films… and the two of us in tears, sitting in the theatre long after the credits rolled by. We left out and Sharol wanted to take a picture with cast cut out. Standing like them, being part of them. One of those, is up above…

Friday April 14th, marked the 10th month without her, the opening day of Fast and the first time my ride or die partner wasn’t with me…. we wondered what would happen without Paul, Han and Giselle. I found out alone. More on that later. Firstly, dear reader, I want you to understand why this film is the backdrop this month’s reflection and why it’s important to me. If you follow one of the storylines, Letty and Dom to be exact. You find that they were teenage lovers, they grew up together and had a deep love for one another. They fought for each and for their love. They went from poverty to wealth together, from committing crimes to fighting crimes together. And of course, they raced together too… Thick and thin, ride or die, side by side. You still don’t get it? It’s classic, It’s us, partnered up against world protecting one another and family. When Letty died, we felt it. When they found her alive, we couldn’t wait for Dom to go get her. And he did! He literally few through the air, propelled by love, to save her. When he shot over the bridge, slammed together Letty, embraced her and crashed onto the hood of the car, Sharol tearfully said “that’s love”. In one film, Letty says “Where you go, I go”, it’s what’s Sharol said to me when we got married…

The Fate of the Furious…

We wondered and I found out. I also wondered what would happen to me without her. The cast as well as my family have changed. There’s less of us. And the series went dark… Dom without his family is a more than a formidable, dark, opponent. Everything he is and was, when use for evil instead of good, is not someone you want to screw around with. Likewise, I find that without her voice, touch, hand in mine… without Sharol’s love, I am no longer, Chase. I’m the darker man, the lone wolf, Maverick. The one I was before her, before Jesus, the drifter. Coming and going when it pleased me. The man in the dimly lit ally, although grey haired, you don’t wish to cross. I frighten myself at times when I think of how far I can go. How long before I’m raging in anger? How long before I quit my job and live by my old motto, FTW (!@$ the world)? At what point will I snap and tell that annoying loud co-worker, to “shut the *^$ up!!!? Not only did Christ change me, brought me Sharol. I strived to be the best human possible with her. Her presence calmed me, her touch relaxed me, her voice made me aware that I was loved and all of these things made me “a better version of me” I feel myself slipping away… seriously, like, I’m 5 minutes away from telling my agency to kiss my butt and walk away until I can’t walk anymore…

At one point in The Fate Letty catches up with the Dom. She looks him in the eyes while they’re in the ally…”I don’t know why you’re doing this. But I know that you love me…” trying to reach him and pull him back to them, back to the family. I immediately remembered and felt Sharol’s hands cupping my face, her eyes shifting behind her glasses, searching my face “I love you Tyrone. You know that, right? I love you” I kind of felt myself being pulled back from the edge. The ebb and flow of the past 11 months have changed me. I feel it. Not sure how much or what I’m becoming or what I might be returning to, neither do I know what my future looks like. How long can I go… how long can I remain sane without the daily presence? A famous study was done years ago. It studied new born babies and the effects of the babies that were held vs those left to themselves. Well, it didn’t go so well for the babies that weren’t held. Will I become Jesse Stone and live and drink by myself on some lonely island. Or like Walt Longmire whose daughter visit periodically to check on him. Enjoying an occasional uncomfortable date and no more, because he can’t bear it, so he’s married to his job…? I’m becoming increasingly frustrated and Furious with the world around me, with no one to talk to about it or anything else. The 14 year is a cool road buddy… but our world’s are vastly different. She is steep in this pop culture, I am before the PC culture told me what to think and say. There are days when I feel like Tim Allen like I’m the Last Man Standing. I’m surrounded by tattooed eye brows and all things fake including our daily conversations. So what will become of this Furious dark man…?

Camille Tea in Sharol’s cup. A gift I give her last year, she’d dropped the her old one.

I’m now sitting at my desk during lunch finishing what I started a week ago. Chris Stapleton playing in my ears. Mother’s day just past and last week I couldn’t remember what we did last year or what I got her. It wasn’t until I pick up, the tea cup off my desk Friday afternoon, when I remembered. I bought her a beautiful maxi dress and sandals, she wanted to wear it but was disappointed that it was too big. So it went back and the new size didn’t come in time for mother’s day. She brag about it on fb…. never got to wear it. Before mother’s day, my birthday was a week earlier and this month will end with memorial day. The weekend we spent around town, ending with shopping for new books…

New characters have been added to the Fast and Furious family. Dom found the power and drive to fight back against his tormentor, Cypher, who forced him to turn on his crew/family. When he fought back he was unstoppable! There will be many new characters in my life as well. Son in laws, grandchildren and so on.

When I sit and reflect, dear reader, on the past 11 months, I see that I’ve made it thus far, I have been granted the ability to enjoy some of life. I’m very slowly creating new memories and I don’t have to erase my life with Sharol to do it. In fact, every time I put the gear in drive I feel her with me. I’m doing what we always wanted to do, travel. I remember our talks on the road alone without the kids. The nights, we’d leave the kids in the hotel room and take the rental for a drive. I was in Lancaster Pa not too long ago to see Michael W Smith. As I drove down Lincoln Highway with my 14 yr old, I couldn’t stop smiling thinking about our last time in town. It was our anniversary and we took a drive. I looked over at the dashboard and like a movie, I saw Sharol’s big ol’ bare feet on it. Her skirt blowing in night air and her hand on my head rest massaging my neck, with a smile. Then I giggled because I remembered it as if it were happening at that moment. Seeing her laughing in the car while we sat in a parking lot next to the Waffle House. My mind jumped to many other car adventures we’ve had. No matter what direction the hood points, the tires move, I feel her more on the road than I do at home…

In the end, dear reader, Dom is changed by Brian’s life. In real life Vin Diesel has been changed by Paul‘s life. I have been changed by my wife’s life and death. I’m getting used to her not being around. Used to not happy or comfortable with. You have to through the Jordan to get to the promise land. I’m sure this somewhat hellish existence, will turn out find. But like many of you I don’t like getting through this. As far as the furious dark side is concerned. Maverick went away the day a married Sharol. For now, I’ll stay the course that Abby and Chase laid out even if I ride alone for a while…

.“Things are gonna be different…”

Click above. Until next time…

“Just A Thought”

Posted on May 8, 2017 by tanthonybland

If you are easily offended by common sense analysis Or “triggered” when you hear something you don’t like. If racism or racist is the first thing that comes out your mouth for everything. Then you might want to stop reading. I am not responsible for your melt down. For the rest of you, let’s continue…
Stop blaming outside forces for your situation. Clear your mind and think on this… you are poor and or living where you live because of your parents. For example, you grew up the Pj’s,

trailer park,

the wrong side of town

, you inherited that. Your parents moved there, possibly because it was all they could afford as a young couple Or a single parent. Perhaps they had little to no education. I mean, not enough education to pull them out of their situation. Raising you would make it even harder for them to save and move out. Did they give you siblings to play with while still living “there”… well, there’s no way they were getting out…

Did they raise you to believe other ethnicities are smarter and better than you? That the deck is stacked so don’t even try? That school is okay but you need a real job? Did you have an educational opportunity but were held back, because your parents said there was no one there that look like you? Then this, is the continuation of the cycle of poverty…

I told my kids “you don’t have to be what you are today, you can always change” We taught our children that a better education and a good career choice is their key to moving 2 or 3 maybe even 5 steps further than we did. We stressed reading at an early age, we filled our house and surrounded them with books, opening up worlds of possibilities to tbem. We set them at tables with folks in wheelchairs and with speech impediments. Japanese, Iowans, Canadiens, Ugandans, Kenyons, pastors, missionaries, prayer warriors. Our vacations were under the open sky with trees, sands of Jamaica, quiet mountains, the Amish Country and fresh air….but we live in the south Bronx. Surrounded by trucks, buses, smog, rats, roaches, gunshots, drug dealers and only two supermarkets and one fresh vegetable stand. This is where they were raised. Following blood trails into their building on the way home from school and church. Startled awake at night because we lived above the O.K Corral. Cars screeching, Sirens blaring, helicopters circling, cops swarming… Our children inherited this world because of their parent’s and grandparent’s choices. We chose to move there but we never lived there. One of my Mantra was “there are bars on the windows not on your mine” basically telling the children, there’s no cause to act like prisoners or fools. We didn’t have, they didn’t have everything we wanted but our needs were met… and when from time to time, our needs weren’t met, we lived. There was never a thought of doing anything criminal for a loaf of bread. At one point I took my oldest son with me to stand of a long line at a local church food pantry. We brought home a massive can of beans, rice and such. We lived! With no shame! We made it through a slim year. We trained our children to be grateful for what they had but to always strive to do better…

So how did we get here…? Mom’s and Pop’s. Mother in law, was an immigrant to the United States her daughter was a first-generation American. She assimilated well, excelled in education and was indeed a critical thinker. But she also made poor relationship choices as did I. My mother and father were born and raised in these united states. They dealt with and lived through Northern bigotry. My mother, was on her way to become a seamstress. She went to Fashion Needle trade High School which became Fashion Industry. My father, with an engineering mind, was a U.S Air force mechanic and a Machinist. He went to Aviation High School. I inherited their mechanical and creative skills. But I also inherited poverty. The old man move to a house in lower Westchester. Mom’s raised two kids as a single mother in the projects of the Northeast Bronx. The 60’s didn’t allow them to move too far ahead in life. As for my mother, public housing was a necessary choice on the budget she had. She was a factory worker at one point before she landed a city job. This was my starting point in life.

I, on the other hand,

wasted my talent and brains on drugs and alcohol during the 80’s. It took years to erase most of the damage I’d done to myself. After being homeless for about 3 years, I landed in the south Bronx and it’s where I met my wife. Both single parents raising two children. We married and had two more. She’d just finished law school, I was makimg due on public assistance. We made a plan, gained our Independence from public assistance in about 6 years. Then lived off what we made. We agreed on me finishing my own education. So, I worked hard to get my GED, BA and MS in a straight 6 year run. The plan was to move from where we were, to somewhere less noisy and congested perhaps another state. That always proved difficult because we had 6 kids. Their needs came before our savings. We didn’t have cable or anything like that because we chose to save what little we had for a yearly vacation…

We taught the children the value of money and the value of saving and the value in working hard. Never did we point to race, complexion or anything else for our position in life. True, had our parents known a little more, or had it a little easier or had the foresight, things may have been better. But their generation kicked down doors. Ours just had to walk through them. The excuses were over, it was/is our job to continue forward. My children would face bigotry on their own. But we refused to raise them with that sword over their heads. They saw the examples before them, parents that did not let anything stop them from succeeding in their goals. What they do with that as adults, is up to them. But we gave them enough tools to Forge ahead…

Now, if any one of them want to use today’s pop culture lies and say its the government’s faults, minimum wage fault, it’s the color of their skin fault or anything else as a reason for not succeeding I would wholeheartedly slap them in the back of the head. We are born where we are because of our parents. We live where we are because of our parents, we get out or gets stuck because of our parents. Their inability to move forward becomes our inability to live much less move forward. In the case of our parents and how we raised our children, it wasn’t about our inability to move forward but our ability to train and propel our children to move forward as did the generations of parents and our families did before us. It makes no sense at all and you shoot yourselves in the foot for generations to come, when you fail to push children to move forward. If you’re living in poverty, within at least one to two generations that could be done away with. You may not become filthy rich but that also depends on the educational level and the job choice of whatever family member that rises to become the first millionaire in the family. My bloodline is filled with creative types as well as Academia, so we may never be billionaires. But we’ll be professionals and small business owners and in the service industry. I have yet to see someone demonstrate my dad’s engineering skills but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist…

All of the above can be said for the wealthy as well. Many had great ideas and created an empire. Some large enough to employ hundreds and thousands of people. Some inherited wealth because their parents bequeath them money through insurance or investments. That’s foresight by the way. What ever way the children received their wealth it was their parents that got them there. Unfortunately we have become an angry nation hating what we don’t understand and blaming others for our misfortune…. when the reasons are much closer than we think.

I set across from my 14 year daughter last Thursday when I thought to make this a fb post. I knew it was far too much. I started at home and finished in a hotel room. What sparked this thought??? We were sitting in IHOP when she said she wants to sell candy in school.

Yes! I thought, I’ve been trying to get her older siblings to do it for years. Anyway, I agreed. We discussed profits and overhead cost and how to be competitive. One school mate only sells to his Mexican brethren. The other, a girl, sells a variety of candy for a buck. I said he cornered the niche market and told her how she can steal the other girls clients. “If you sell yours for 75 cents, not only would you build your business but you’ll gain her customers as well” Hey, what dad wouldn’t teach his kid that? So, since she’s not overly competitive at the moment( just give it time) we agreed on the $1 pricing. But I added that she should add something to her box that her competitor doesn’t have. We shook hands on a deal between us. I would front the cost of 2 to 3 boxes of candy, she’d pay me back at the end of the school. Plus I get a small share of the profits, 10 cents off of each bar sold…
These principles that we teach or lack thereof, are for the future but the decisions are made now. Not everything is about somebody else doing something to us but about us making choices.

Until next time….

“Without Her: Sacred Dust”

Posted on April 15, 2017 by tanthonybland

The infamous Box. Next to a can of chicken, she was hiding from our eating machine son; for my lunch.

I have picked up my pen several times, placed the pad in front of me and yet, I haven’t been able to finish anything. Is it because my muse is missing? Is it laziness? Is it grief? Or perhaps a combination of all of the above…

Last time, dear reader; I spoke briefly about “the past two months” when I was done I thought, you know; I have another topic I wanted to touch on. So, here we go… put your feet up and relax.

There is a show my 14 year old daughter and I like to watch called This Is Us. About two or three months ago we watch an episode where the doctor; that delivered the babies had to deal with loneliness and his inability to move on/ more forward, after losing his wife. His adult children were concerned about his lack of joy with life and how the house remained the same since his wife died. Kind of like my 14 year old, “daddy, you need to have fun. You should go out” I did. I went to two birthday parties… I think I told you about one of them. The first was with coworkers, I was out of place and uncomfortable. Clubs, are just not my thing. I don’t like crowds, I’m more a an intimate small gathering guy. The second party was just that, small is something I can deal with. Yet, of course I was uncomfortable. My oldest son is a master of working the room, something he inherited from my dad. In these situations, I tend to slip in and out unnoticed. My coworker calls it an Irish wake. More on the party later, I’m going off road…

Anyway, there’s a scene where the doctor is talking to his wife but she’s not at the table. He fills her in on the latest happenings with the grand kids. To the ordinary viewer or anyone else, he probably looks like he’s losing his mind. But the truth is and many of you reading may have experienced this; that he was continuing the routine in his life. It was keeping him sane. Her medicine was still in the bathroom cabinet and on the dresser. Her things were all in the places where she left them…

I shook my head in agreement because Sharol’s t-shirt, yoga pants and bra are still on the hook behind our bedroom door. Her towel is on the hook next to it and my towel on the left hook beside it. Her shoes spread across the bedroom floor. I stop tripping over them though, I’ve learn to navigate around them now(it’s okay you can laugh). Her clothes still on hangers, bleeding over to my side of the closet. Yep, still taking over the closet. Mostly everything the way it was. Even the silly empty cough medicine box… well,actually I put that on her bookshelf months ago and laughed at her when I did it.

Okay, let me explain, for years we have been pulling simple pranks on one another. Every so often we get a good run,the box happened to be one of them. Once while she was asleep I wrote my name on her arm. She returned the favor. I don’t remember who started the nail polish thing, it was probably me. Painting her nail an odd color. Well, I woke up one morning with my big toe chocolate brown. After the initial freakout, because obviously I thought something was wrong; I laughed and we went about our day. So, there was no time for payback. I forgot about the toe nail until I had a podiatry appointment a few days later. The doctor looked at my feet then up at me. Yes, go ahead; dear reader and laugh. We would put notes in each other’s bags from time to time or leave it where it would be discovered later. Not all can be discussed with you. There was this one time I wrote in a book that she would read to the baby… it didn’t get discovered until the baby was a preteen. Lol.

So, the box started with throwing something at each other, playfully of course. Our bedtime could turn into a kindergarten class at times. I can’t recall if it was a piece of paper or a sock. Anyway, Sharol was falling asleep and I retaliated. I slipped the box under the blanket. She opened her eyes… I walked around the bed and a flash of green and white whipped by me and bounced off the wall. This meant war! I busted(don’t be a grammar nazi) out laughing. We laughed and went to sleep. The box eventually ended up; tucked into her underwear she was planning to wear that was out on the bed, in my shoe which I didn’t find until 2 days later, in her bag where her keys goes, the hood of a coat, on my pillow one night and so on. Lastly, after packing clothes to bring her home from the hospital, I slipped it in with the clothes. When she saw it in the hospital, she sucked her teeth. If you’ve been around people from the Caribbean you know the sound. She gave me that I got you look. It was in the bag when she came home, no doubt planning her next attack. Not sure if she got me back but I had the last laugh. I put it on the her bookshelf…

Out of habit, like the doctor I sometimes look over at her picture and say goodnight. Last summer I bought a wall decal that reads Always kiss me good night. Something we’d do most nights. Many years ago; because you realize you’re getting older, we purposed do that just in case. So, you know what happens after being married for a billion years, right? You start by kissing lips, then it’s the forehead, the hands, the shoulders, elbows; hey sometimes you’re just too tired to turn and reach the lips. Lol. Some of you know what I mean. There were nights when the only thing we could do was reach out in the middle of the bed and hold hands. That was followed by snoring.

Sacred dust… Not only is that silly box there but there are other things still in its place. Perfumes, pennies and the hospital basin that came home. All collecting sacred dust. You know, I didn’t even think about it until my grandson came for a visit. Where’s Nana? He often ask me. Then he runs off before he gets an answer. So, he picked up a plastic container that has an accordion plastic tube connected to it. If know someone with asthma you’ll recognize the device. Sharol had blow into it. He touched it and my brow furled. My first instinct was to grab it but I didn’t. He asked what it was and like usual the ants in his pants, had him dancing around the room.

I didn’t know it then but that plastic piece of nothing had become a Sacred Relic …something we should be very careful not to let happen. When the revelation slapped me, I was reminded of a conversation we had about Facebook. About not leaving messages to one another when the other dies. Because neither could read it. She and I were adamant about not doing it. We’ve seen others do it but thought we should focus on other things. It was always a strange thing to us. For me personally, it’s like lighting a candle for the dead. Dear reader, you may do this as a practice, that’s cool for you and most likely is part of your faith. It’s not part of mine so please don’t be terribly offended. Do your thing. I was told a long time ago that I didn’t have to get rid of her things right away. Take as long as you want. Take years if you need to. He said. The latter is is bit impractical…

I had gotten to the point when it was time but didn’t have time to do so. My reaction to my grandson, signaled to me that day, that I was in a dangerous place. I had made sacred that which was not. Not a good head space, like those in a time bubble or an endless loop. I’ve seen and heard many people over the past few months stuck in a loop. This came about as well meaning folks wished to comfort me…by trading death stories. The lord knows and Sharol few that, that’s not a head space I need to be in. The horror some folks live with. They replay the endless loop of an argument or telling someone they wished they would die, some disappointment. It is hard enough living with regrets when the people is alive. But when they’re gone some people are stuck with their finger on replay. I have no idea how to advise or help them. Except as I have said before, seek out grief counseling.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. Like the doctor on the show. We are men a little out of step from another time. There was a neighbor and friend that didn’t live to far from him. She’d seen the doctor in the store and greeted with a smile. She even invited him over and offered to make him lunch. He said “Hi” then carried on. Well, his children mentioned her to him and he waved it off. Basically saying the woman wasn’t interested in him. Even though she did offer to cook for him. The doctor got frustrated with his children. Telling them not to tell him what to feel. They had been married for over 20 years… He was right but so were they. He later started clearing out the cabinets and had that lunch.

*(I’d written most of this a month ago. Which is why I thought I told about the party. I hadn’t typed it)

The party… so I got invited and the kid says “So…are you going?” I eventually answered the nagging child, with “I don’t know. It’s not my thing, I haven’t been to a club in nearly 30 years” I went. Like any single parent I texted a thousand times. “I’m here” “Are you okay?, what are you doing?” Her text, “So how is it?” At about 9pm I text her “I’m ready to go to sleep” Lol. I didn’t even know any of the music either. See, a man of step and time. As mentioned earlier, the second party was more intimate. Oh, and with music I knew! Lol. But like the first one I was oddly out of step. I eventually warmed up and talked to people I knew. Then… someone I didn’t know came in. I found myself wanting to talk, but was way out of practice on how to strike up a conversation. Well, it started somehow and I was intrigued. She had a great sense of humor and timing. When I got home of course that child of mine grilled me. When did I become the child? Shh… don’t tell her, but I’ve wondered if there would another time when I’d run into that lady again.

Like the doctor, dear reader; I know the things I need to do and they’re getting done. Again, I don’t sit around moping and crying for days. But there are things that trigger memories and this episode was one of them. I thought you’d find it interesting. Some of you are like me, you have businesses to run and children to raise. So, like in Nehemiah, building a wall with and sword on their side and a tool in their hands. So, we mourn and work. Laugh and remember fondly while continuing to live life. Hey, by the way, before we go. I did get to those clothes, some big girl in a shelter or in need will be blessed. As always, our life as a living witness of God’s love. However, we were ready to leave the house and all of the sudden out of nowhere, I couldn’t breath. A mad rush of emotions flooded me. It lasted about 10 minutes. I reached out in prayer to the lord and found him there as always. For a moment I envied my coworker who’d just lost her husband a few weeks ago and others who donated clothes and things immediately. But, that wasn’t how it was meant to be for me…

Back to my opening statement, which I know you forgot and I don’t want to leave sitting there in tears. It is a combination of all of the above. The joy of writing has returned but my muse is missing. I often wrote for an audience of one, Sharol. Now, I’m learning to do it alone without my in-house cheering squad and it started with you. The only thing I could write for a long time was this blog about this strange new season of my life. Good news, I’ve been writing a New short story for the past month. Thank you, dear reader and my author buddies for convincing me to continue writing.

Ripley’s on 42nd Street

Until next time…

“Beloved”

Posted on April 12, 2017 by tanthonybland

On the road again. Sitting in the hotel room with Michael W Smith playing in the background;I looked over the pile of pillows to see my daughter reading a book. A deep engulfed trance. She’s reading a novel written by a Mennonite author, it’s my book actually but I let her check it out while I sat quietly and started writing. We were waiting for dinner, our reservation was for 6pm;this would be followed by seeing Michael W Smith in concert…
I watched her unplugged from the world, there was a peace in her countenance. Oh how I hoped she could see the value in just turning off the noise of this loud world we live in. There aren’t many teenage girls willing to put down their phones and put social media in it’s place…in the background of real life.

As I watched her I replayed a few of her many questions. “Can I dye my hair blue?”, “Can I put on my makeup when we get there?” the words echoed in my brain. I smiled a little, this kid is crazy I thought. On the other hand, at least it’s not a tattoo at 14. I don’t know how some of you deal with that. She’s been after me about makeup for a few months now. A couple of months ago she said “I asked mommy but she said I had to ask you”… We ended with, not until you’re 16. But you can practice at home. No posted photos! But, I also gave/give her opportunity to wear makeup when we’re out on a date or special occasions.

The concert opened with Nathan Tasker, I’ve heard of him but he music and humor warmed the soul. Next up was Jordan Feliz, now I’ve never heard of him either, but there was a song I’ve heard on the radio. His music and performance was filled with energy. Jordan, said he had recently become a father of a little girl and he thought of the world she would grow up in, he wanted her to know how loved she was and have the strength to stand. He wrote a song her and all of us, dear reader:

“… you are essential, not accidental and you should realize, you are beloved. I wanted you to know, you are beloved. Let it soak into your soul. Forget the lies you heard, rise above the hurt and listen to these words. You are beloved…” –Beloved by Jordan Feliz from the album, The River.

As a junior high school girl about to enter high school as a freshman; who just lost her mother suddenly and in front of her. A creative mind with a wicked dry sense of humor and decent human being, if there is one message I want to convey to her before God calls me home, it is; know the God of your mother and father and know how much he loves you. Jordan is right, his little girl as mine has already experienced, will be told some really stupid messages from the world around her. “Too fat”, “Too black…”, “not black enough”, “you’re not cool enough”, “your hair is fake…”. Now, there are some things that my daughter will hear, that are unique to her culture and ethnicity. The point still reminds, to herself, ourselves, is to see as God sees us. Worthy and worth his love…

After the concert we stop for some pie, we took it back to the room. She was tired, in fact I saw her dosing off in her seat; but she wanted to finish her drawing when we returned to the room. She did. I started the beginning of this post… I thought back to when I first became a Christian over 24 years ago and how things; including the world, has changed. Not all for the good. I came to faith years ago as a relationship ended and I was a newly minted single father of two small children, ages 2 and 4 going 3 and 5. I immediately took them to church with me. On Tuesday night’s the 3 of us would pray for the world, missionaries, family and friends. We’d read(I read) letters from missionaries around world. We supported them and other ministries on a non existent budget. I was on public assistance at the time but thought I still had more than most of the world. Churches in those days knew who they were…

Fast forward to today. The exposure my older children had to Christian living in all of its various forms. As well as teaching them to be generous, caring human beings, is pretty much extinct. The guiding principles were part of everyday life. Not so anymore. We as a country as well as pop culture, have accepted and created a world of hate. Not from any one source but from all sources. So, the advent of social media; not to mention the agenda to push it on younger and younger children, is making it harder and harder to help children both girls and boys, grow up well adjusted. It really doesn’t matter whether you raise them in your faith or in a secular home. Gay sexual themes are in their faces far before you can explain to them how their own bodies work. Political agendas are pushed in younger grades, where they were never taught in school at all…

Lancaster Pa. Stopping for ice cream on the road, heading home. 4/9/2017

So, when the opportunity arises to take my kid to her first rock concert comes or to expose her to something new, I do it. Not because we’re friends but because she’s far too precious to allow pop culture to dictate to her what a good time is. Mind you, it is a small window but as we taught our older children. The Feds study the real bills in order to spot a counterfeit. As she gets old enough to make her own decisions she’ll be able to spot the pop culture lies.

The blue hair thing isn’t off the table…but… I’m not totally convinced its the best idea. We’re researching how it could be a less permanent thing. For the moment, it’s nail salons and occasional make-up. That’s all this dad can stomach. A few months ago I took her to see her first horror movie followed by a rated R film. I let her chose but it was a guided choice. So we saw, Split and Get Out. Honestly they were far more funnier than serious. We laughed until we had a headache. It also opened up a discussion about her teacher’s statement. Read and listen carefully, dear reader. One of her teachers said she wanted to see “Get Out” but didn’t think she could because she “..is a white person”. How ridiculous have we became, that folks think that there’s a qualification to see a film? Like, really?! After we both laughed at the stupidity I shared with her how the other day; while working on a short story I’m in the middle of, I changed I line then thought what the heck am I doing. How did I let Pop and PC culture dictate my art? This is what wrote: “I loved the juke around the fat guy and the dog lady” I immediately said to myself, you can’t say that, I was about to strike it out then said “screw that!”. I ended up writing that mental conflict into the scene with the characters. Heads up, it doesn’t end well. As it doesn’t in real life anymore either. We’ve painted ourselves into a corner where honest conversation has been replaced with careful words and beating around bushes. That’s the reason why the teacher felt disqualified to see a movie and fools tell women of a certain ethnicity, that they can’t wear hoop earrings….

See, dear reader, Jordan’s song is great and necessary message for his daughter, my daughter, our sons and ourselves. To view ourselves as a Beloved creation from a creator that views us as being worthy of his love. If you/we can understand that, then the media would be put in its place and young lives would be less tortured by pop culture’s dictates.

4/9/2017 taking a picture while the kid took one.

By the way, dear readers; I told my daughter she would be part of my subject this time. She’s okay with it. Usually on long rides the kids would put in their ear buds. This time we enjoyed the same music, whatever I played. At one point, as a treat for her and torture for (Lol) I through on Spotify and let her choose the music(psst I also get to hear what she’s listening to)….oh, dear lawd! First, I gotta admit, Adele has agreat voice it’s something I could listen to…I probably won’t. Simply because I find that today’s pop music all sounds the same and I’m not a pop guy. Which brings me to, “Adele radio”, again oh lawd! My great frustration with internet radio, the lineup of “similar artist”. We eventually, ended up with just Adele, thankfully. Oh…and better that than Radio Disney! God bless you, poor reader, who’s children use that form of torture.

So, did it work? Did the message of God’s love for her get through? Does she know how beautiful she is, especially in God’s eyes? Will it be enough to strengthen her character and combat PC and pop culture’s bs? I don’t know, dear reader; only time will tell. In the meantime, I’ll keep training her to spot the counterfeit. We have a task before us, fellow parents but don’t give in and don’t give up the fight…

click on it: You are beloved

Until next time….

“Without Her: 9 Months Later, I’m Not Okay”

Posted on March 15, 2017 by tanthonybland

I was sitting down watching Nashville the TV show the other week. I was so happy that it returned. Since ABC cancelled it, Country Music Television picked it up. I can’t say I’m anywhere close to liking the writing this season. First off, they are screwing up every relationship on the show, everyone is breaking up or going through drama that doesn’t make since. Well, at least to me. See when you change too much too fast you lose the audience. I’m a die hard fan so, I would stick it out. I learned that the show runners are from ThirtySomething. Do you remember the show? The characters spent most of the time wining. So understandably I’m concerned about the writing and direction of one of my favorite shows…
Out of nowhere, they killed Rayna Jaymes!

I’m like “what the heck!?” What made things worse was that the hospital scene mirrored my conversation with Sharol. I knew Deacon Claybourne’s pain. Like Deacon, my loss was sudden and unexpected. Like Deacon, my life has been a series of twists and turns down dark roads. Conquering addiction depression, assaults, bigotry and fear. We both found a confidence and strength that came from the relationship with the women in our lives. Who also happened to be the absolute love of our lives.

Deacon and Rayna we’re working on an album of duets together. It was the story of their life together. It was a pretty adventurous task which brought up old feelings and anxieties as they tried to write together. So at one point they decided to write separately and meet to put the songs together. Coincidentally, it was the same formula I came up with when we decided to write our own autobiography about lives before we met and then our life together as a couple, the struggles of parenting and becoming One. That was about 5 years ago. We were up in Albany for a weekend because Sharol had to take a class. It started on a vacation, then when that weekend trip came we decided to spend some more time writing…. we never finished it. We didn’t get pass the outline of the chapters. Only God knows where Sharol’s notes are. Like me they were scattered all over the place, a notebook here a piece of paper there…

I fell apart when Deacon did. I couldn’t imagine him living life without Rayna. Raising the two girls alone, the unfinished album, the business up in the air, a custody battle, a music career that was halted, teenage daughter dating an older guy that’s bipolar… and the only way Highway 65 was going to survive, is for him to finish the album that everybody’s waiting for…

I once told someone “how am I supposed to be Papa without Nana?” They responded with “Aww”. Someone hit the buzzer please. “Aww…” is the wrong response! “I don’t know”, would have been better. I think what followed was something like “you’ll be okay” …in the words of President Trump “Wrong!” I won’t be okay, heck I’m not okay. My life was and in some small ways, but less with each day; intertwined with Sharol’s. Thankfully, I did not die with her emotionally; as so many surviving spouses do. Things would have been far worse for our two youngest that I still have to raise. So, how am I supposed to be Papa without Nana? How can I finish the book we were working on, much less consider an autobiography without her? How will I lead this nation(6 children and 4 grand) of ours forward without her by my side?.. a month ago I woke up to a runny nose. I thought it was a runny nose, it was blood. It took me a bit to figure it out until I saw the bright red on the pillow. I tried not to panic, but this is the thing I was most concerned about over the months. What happens if I get sick? I‘ll be alone. Usually, we’d wake up, one would stay with the other just to make sure everything was fine. One would pray with and for the other. But my prayer partner is gone. Who will take care of me…? I thought, thinking of the future. I didn’t want to go back to sleep. The kids can’t loose both of us within the same 12 months I thought as I laid back down…

So, you see, dear reader. When the car ran into Rayna, when she laid in the bed promising Deacon that she’d come back to him and when he said “don’t you die on me” as they ushered him out of the room…it was all too familiar with me. Some years ago, probably within our first two years of marriage. We looked at each other and I said “Dag, why didn’t you wait for me?” I was referring to all the stuff we had gone through in our past relationships. If we had just waited for the one God had for us. We agreed it would have been fun to have had more time together. Like Deacon and Rayna we struggled but the love was real and genuine. They were arguably one of our favorite characters/couples of the show. Now, Sharol wasn’t a great big country music fan but she did like a good drama and watched the show with me from time to time. It’s one of the few shows that I can stomach watching without her, probably because I started watching it before she did.

Okay, back to Decon; facing finishing a work they started together with everyone pushing and pulling on him. But of the crowd came a voice of reason, Avery Barkley, who reminded them that the man just lost his wife. Avery later came up with a brilliant idea of how to finish the record. I have been fine for months moving forward, getting done what needed to be done. Until I woke in the middle of the night. Followed by the past few episodes of Nashville…

But don’t you worry none, dear reader, became my hope and trust is in God and I have seen him move mountains for me these past few months. Friends have come and gone but Jesus has remain. Like that poem Foot Prints, I have only seen one set of boot prints in the snow of NYC. But I know he was with me before, so why not be with me now? If the Lord said he would be closer than a brother, as close as the mention of his name, if he gives birds food and I am more valuable to him than them, then why not take care of my needs in this dark hour?

Of course, that does not change our human feelings and the need for human to human contact. That need to be held. Isn’t that the reason for Eve? After seeing Adam alone, with no one like him; God decided that it was not good for him to be alone. Then by God’s grace he gave Adam someone to walk through life with. So, in this too I must trust him. I don’t just say this to encourage you but also to encourage myself. As Fred Hammond once said sometimes we just have to encourage ourselves. By the way, Decon and the girls are doing much better. I suspect the rest of the season will focus on the continuing life, after Rayna Jaymes. I know that feeling too.

Until next time…

T. Anthony Bland

Under The ThinkingCap

“The Road To 52”

“Management From Hell”

“The Resistance”

“Misfire”

“With and Without Her: My Year Alone”

“Without Her: The Fate of The Furious…”

“Just A Thought”

“Without Her: Sacred Dust”

“Beloved”

“Without Her: 9 Months Later, I’m Not Okay”

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