…and now I run a free clinic


Some weeks ago it was brought to my attention that our gnome, who has been resting in a corner of my weed garden…for about a decade, had been injured.

I must confess that during the winter months I rarely visit the weeds (a collection of indigenous wild flowers) and was unaware of the gnome’s plight.  He was suffering from sunstroke, hyperthermia and sever bruising from a recent hail storm.

He was cracked, colorless and chipped.  After careful applications of Bondo, hours of careful sanding and roughly fifteen layers of paint and Spar Varnish (two weeks work, 25$ in materials) he ready for another nap among the weeds.

My work was done…yeah…right.

The SWMBO informed me this morning that I had visitors in the garage and that they had been invited by Gnorm (our gnome).

I was greeted by a small army of very unhealthy gnomes of varying sizes and postures, nine to be exact.  The SWMBO claims this was none of her doing and I have heard snickering in the weeds.

The clinic is now open for business…i guess.


Defining My Writing

I have wanted to write since my early teens.  I thought I was passionate about writing; I may have been wrong.

Using a word over much tends to muddy the definition; I looked up the word Passion:

  1.  Strong feeling or emotion (singularly vague)
  2. The trait of being intensely emotional (drama queen?)
  3. Something that is desired intensely (I’ve many desires, not all good and it sounds like I am taking away rather than giving)
  4. An irrational but irresistible motive for a belief or action (irrational…Webster read my stuff)
  5. A feeling of strong sexual desire (refer to #3)
  6. Any object of warm affection or devotion (I’d rather it be hot than warm)

French from Latin passio (suffering), passus (suffered), pati (suffer) (again, they’ve really read my stuff).

I have dropped passionate as a descriptor for writing (verb).  Instead, I find enthusiasm more appropriate.  It is defined thusly:

  1. A feeling of excitement (on the rare occasions I can successfully string two sentences together, I do get excited)
  2. Overflowing with eager enjoyment or approval (you know how you feel when you finish a piece and its almost good)
  3. A lively interest (if writing isn’t this, why write?)

From Middle French-enthousiasme, from Greek-enthousiasmos, “be inspired” from entheos, “inspired, possessed by a god” from en-“in” theos-“god”.

May you always be Enthusiastic about your writing and may the madness of your “possession” carry you to heights and wonders, as yet, unimaginable.

Irrational (?) Fears

Black Label Warning

Most of my fears have been unpleasant expectations of every day events and/or chance encounters with snakes and automobile crashes.

I don’t know when I first imagined the unpleasant aspects of my life, most of it I think.  Its a unique form of depression, Bi Polar II, extremely dark depression leading to hallucinations and  periodic loss of memory.  This created several problems growing up, opening your closet door and finding dozens of snakes.  The biggest problem with the snakes was deciding how I was going to deal with the situation; if it was in my head I was fine, I try not to scream as I reached for my shoes, but then again you didn’t know how my sisters liked to torment me.  It was a coin toss.

I lived in fear, fear breeds anger and anger, anger turns to rage.

What I feared most was me.  I divorced my wife and in time ran away, leaving behind my five year old son.

Four times hospitalized for suicide attempts, I never really got the right help then.  When asked what I had done for such and such time, I looked at my scars and told a story that seemed to fit, I really didn’t know.  I didn’t know where my son was, if he was well, what he needed.  The only thing I knew was he didn’t need a father like me.

I knew nothing and what  I thought I did know…was wrong.

Jamie (he prefers James, but this is my blog) found me just before his thirtieth birthday.  For twelve years we have tried to establish a working relationship; but he still is not comfortable with any address: Michael, Mr. Moore have been used, never Dad.  As a joke I suggested, “Hey, my biological father.”  He didn’t laugh.

Now, I am confronting my worst fear, Jamie is feeling all the pain, the rejection that was his life for twenty-five years.  I don’t know if he “hates” me…he sure doesn’t want to hear from me.

The SWMBO resents his attitude, thinks he’s a jerk…she’s wrong; he’s just hurt and I’m the one that hurt him.

It’s difficult to admit that until he was thirty years old, the only real connection we had was I happened to be in the room when he was conceived.

Being crazy has its price, exacted on everyone close to you, it demands love, understanding and faith in ungodly quantities and not everyone is willing to give that much.  I have proved myself to not be a really nice guy, don’t you know.

I’m working on forgiving myself and I apologize for the rant ut sometimes you just have to talk it out.  Thanks.

True Success

Today I became aware of a valuable life lesson.

While cleaning up after a four day long winter blast; single digit temperatures, 25 mph winds and 2-3 inch precipitation, and many fallen branches and trees.  I became acutely aware that, at my age; if you do not have the strength, stamina to complete the required tasks without the aid of an oxygen tank or lack  the discretionary funds to hire a younger person to do them…you have not arrived.

Away too long

Spending time catching up on all your posts from the past week.  Your poetry, tales of love and pain, photographs and laughs.

I’ve also noticed the conspicuous absent of my own pieces…no internet access here.  It may be due to the uncommon winter storm or the SWMBO forgot to pay the bill.  Regardless its back…and I hope to be soon.