Snow After Seventy

Wait, it was seventy degrees yesterday morning. I went for a run with friends and it was almost too warm. Then this afternoon, on the way to Wegmans, snow flurried thick enough I couldn't see beyond the 481 overpass. 

My guess is that most of Syracuse isn't thrilled with this. A day like yesterday gets us thinking spring has arrived despite the calendar and our better sense. I don't listen to weather reports in part because I don't want to hear how terrible a day it will be just because it's not like yesterday. 

Sudden shifts in weather give me hope. Yesterday it was seventy and skies were blue. Now it's below freezing and the world is white. That sudden change is a wonder of Central New York. The skies are grey and that can be tough, but there is something in a snow flurry or storm that delights me still. 

It has me thinking how lives can change like the weather. I've been in the same job for seventeen years and would love some new adventure. I had dinner last night with a former colleague and she looked ten years younger, as if retirement led her to find her true self. I felt happiness radiate off her just as sure as I feel the furnace pushing warm air through the vent at my feet. I was happy for her and wondering how I might sail on the winds of change. 

For years I believed I was trapped and would remain in my job because I had waited too long to make a change. Then the world turns from freezing to seventy and back again and I believe in the powers of change and my own power to make changes. 

I don't know tomorrow's weather or if I'll be in a new job soon, but I was happy in yesterday's warmth and I'm just as happy in this snow. Maybe some new adventure will come or I'll make one. It may snow or thaw. Being okay with all of it begins with enjoying how things are right this minute and expecting things to become only better. 

It was seventy degrees yesterday morning. It's below freezing this afternoon. Anything at all seems possible for tomorrow. That's just the way it ought to be. 

Cell Phone Anonymous

When I got my iPhone in 2008 it was life-changing. I couldn't believe all it could do and I often claimed I could run my life through it. That's just what I set out to do. 

Google Calendar, Drive, Gmail, Maps, Contacts, and every other Google thing became portably integrated into my life. I downloaded apps for to-do lists, project planning, push-ups and planks, running, diet, and whatever else. I used the hell out of iTunes then Google Play Music thinking a subscription was the key to fully enjoying music. I switched to Google Nexus phones and then the Pixel. I lived my life through them. 

But I kept feeling like I was doing it wrong. User error. My therapist waited while I struggled to put in our next appointment. I didn't know what I was doing each day until the phone dinged to tell me. Email overwhelmed me, so I checked it incessantly. I couldn't find my way around the city without the GPS. I was distracted and felt like a mess. What was wrong with me? It had to be my fault, right? 

I chewed through gigabytes of data monthly and more than a battery charge daily. I stopped reading books and writing, stayed in, used the phone when I was out, and lost some touch with family. I felt addicted, like I couldn't stop, and it was then that I started shifting gears.

I stopped streaming music over the data plan. I had given up music while running years ago after stopping a woman from running into 45 mph traffic and I stopped walking with it now. These turned out to be easy changes, though I hadn't expected them to be easy. 

Next, I switched to Google's Project Fi which bills only for data used. This got me looking for ways to cut data usage. My daughter said, "just turn off mobile data" and I went wide-eyed at the simple brilliance as I shut off mobile data. I've left it off. I still pick up the phone when waiting to pick her up from rehearsal, but there's no data, so I read a book. And I don't pay a cent for data.

I deleted most apps and use Twitter, Facebook, and The Washington Post in the browser. It's more difficult, so I use them less. I still use The New York Times app because it works so well, but I may end up dropping it too. I'll let my Post subscription go when it runs out next month. 

And then this week I began powering the phone off for an hour each day. Yesterday, I left it off for two playing at how many hours I can leave it off. 

Of course, you don't need to do any of this. You're not addicted to your phone and missing out on life because of it like I was. You don't use it while you drive or run out of battery each afternoon. You're not paying too much for data. It makes a good story though. I love stories of addiction and recovery, hoping the recovery takes hold. Maybe mine is one of those stories. 

Check back here every so often to see how things turn out. 

Not Cool, Cool

I was never cool, never popular. I wasn't a major loser, an outcast or anything. I was in the middle where I didn't want to be. Cool people seemed to have better lives. I wanted to be in that group, but saw no way. See, I went to a suburban school where looks, money, and confidence mattered. I suppose they do everywhere. My folks weren't poor, but I wasn't stylish or hip. I wore jeans and t-shirts emblazoned with the names of jazz bands and old rock groups. I wore Converse high tops but they weren't cool, they were average like me. 

It felt like a lesser way to go through life. People had it better and did better. I had it good enough and should have done better, that's how it felt. The cool people seemed better than me. They had more money, but who had a better life? What is a better life? It has only occurred to me in my forties that life is not a competition and to make it so is to lose immediately. I've lived a good life. Dad and Mom were good to me. My brother and I got along better with every year. We had enough money. There was food on the table, presents under the tree, and I had my own room. I had good friends, one of whom has been with me for all but the first month and a half of my life. And I had a great dog. Mine has been a good life even if I've not been cool.  

My life has just gotten better and better. I'm married to and in love a woman I first kissed in 1991. Our two daughters are beyond wonderful. Dad died, and while that sucks, he had a good death with no pain and I still have Mom. My job is good enough and pays well. I'm on the lookout for new adventure. I'm writing. I'm healthy. I have a turntable and a bunch of records to listen to. 

I don't have a Tesla yet, but how important is that? Besides, it's good to want and not have everything. I have enough, probably more than enough. Still, I'm going to see what I can do about getting me a Tesla. There's no way _not_ to be cool with that car. (I'm mostly kidding.)

I wasn't a cool kid, but I've grown to be cool with that. I'm not in search of cool so much anymore. The coolest people don't try to be cool, they just went their own way. They are sure of themselves or at least seem sure enough that they don't have to go along with the crowd. I've gotten to the point in my life when I'm willing to go my own way, to shrug at being out of the mainstream, to understand that it's not at all about how I seem to others. It comes down to how I feel about me. How do I feel? I'm okay and I have the strong feeling that I'm getting better. That's cool. 

American Tradition

Seventeen people died yesterday at a Florida school as a result of a boy, an automatic weapon, and politicians bought and sold by the NRA, a terrorist organization. There will be outcry for about a week, but nothing will be done to protect anyone or anything other than gun owners and their right to shoot and kill. The NRA purchased a powerful clergy of zealots and murders the career of any politician who goes transgresses their creed. Seventeen people died in a school yesterday. They won't be the last victims of the jihad this year or even this month. Hell, there are two days left in the school week and who could be surprised if we have another shooting? The Repubs offer thoughts and prayers but are willing accessories to murder along with every dues-paying member of the NRA. 

But none of this matters. Soon the zealots will claim there was no shooting, that the victims' families are actors paid by liberals in a plot to destroy the American Way. Many  will nod their empty heads while cleaning their guns, loading them, and leaving them unlocked to repel the Obama/Clinton shock-troops surely coming for them. 

That boy in Florida is another American exercising his second amendment right to mass murder. My country 'tis of thee. Was he mentally ill? No more than the Repubs and NRA who cherish guns more than the lives of others. The boy executed our national policy. A gun is for shooting. Target practice is okay, but even the targets are human-shaped. Shooting animals is better. Instead of a mere hole in a target, there's the rush of extinguishing a life. And the highest order animal, the big prize is another human. The AR-15 is designed to bring down dozens in seconds. Does Guinness keep records for such things?

The Repubs and NRA have declared humans in season and there's no bag limit. 

Gun massacres are the law and policy of our land. They are our tradition and to oppose them is unpatriotic. Terrorists try such things, but patriots stand up. They root out traitors and preserve our peculiar traditions and institutions. Lock and load. 

There are always thoughts and prayers, man, thoughts and prayers. They makes it all better. I'm just not sure what we're praying for. Divine intervention? Anything that works against the gun would be seen as the work of Satan. 

Wait a week for a tweet to bump this all off the news. I guarantee it. 

Seventeen people are dead. The rule of the gun, the faith in the automatic weapon will remain unscathed. U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

I'm going to school now. I'll pass at least one sign demanding a repeal of New York's SAFE act. My representative in Congress will offer thoughts and prayers, they don't cost him anything. When the time comes, he will vote for murder because doing otherwise costs him too much.

Let us now stand as one nation, unholster our weapons, and celebrate our freedoms and school massacres with the singing of our national anthem after which the games can once again begin.