Poem on Demand: “Can You Read My Brain Waves?”

I liked doing this one.

Topic: “Can You Read My Brain Waves?”
Word Count: 23

“Can You Read My Brain Waves?”

Thoughts are a placid ocean
Life gives a stir
You ride the wave
It if crashes into me,
Only then I’ll know.

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The Most Beautiful Moment of Your Life

Stop and think for a moment about the most beautiful moment of your life.

As those reading this might now, I found out about my full brother about a year ago.

Yesterday, I caught up with a friend and neighbor from high school.

I sent her the link (above) about my brother. And then I sent her the note pasted below.

My point is that I think the most beautiful thing I have ever seen is when my parents met my brother for the first time.

Here is the note:

The lost brother thing was both difficult and beautiful for my parents. While the blog was meant for updates on that story, the evolution of their relationship with the long-lost brother became so personal to my parents that I realized my blog was not giving their personal, secretive, and angst relationship to the story due respect, so I stopped my hyperactive, global, unfiltered updates.

The short of it, however, is that my brother quickly became the “missing piece” my parents longed for. Yesterday, as you know, was fathers’ day.

My brother Mike has my father’s love of sports, beer, and logic. They look a lot alike, they tell stories the same way. Mike is the athletic son my father always wanted and I never was.

Yesterday, my father, for the first time in his life, got three calls on fathers’ day. One of them lasted an hour long and largely was spent talking sports. This has made him so happy that he has a very obvious newfound sense of purpose in life.

The take-away for me (among others) is appreciating the pain they carried for so many years. My brother Mike has become part of the family with ease – there is no family get-together (Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.) for which he is not a full participant.

The last living member of the family that raised MIke died this year. He thought he was alone, forever. He spent holidays largely alone. And he is simply over-joyed to discover he has two full siblings and loving parents – all of whom he not only gets along with, but feels as though he belongs with.

I don’t want to drag on too long, but I will tell you this: I picked up my brother from the airport and introduced him to my parents. In all my years with my parents I never so them so happy. They both hugged him – and then they hugged him again and again. Imagine spending a lifetime thinking you will never see your child, and then God gives you that miracle. I saw sides of my parents then I never saw.

My father was holding back tears telling Mike that there wasn’t a week that went by in his life that he didn’t wonder where his son was. Mom and dad are so happy now. There are times when the “whole” family has a reunion and if you could see them it would make you cry.

They spent a lifetime feeling an important part of their family was missing, and they never thought they would have a reunion. I just want to make sure the last years of their lives are spent giving them the sense of completion they thought they would never know,.

The Question Again: Who is the Perfect Person for You?

While I was out for appetizers and drinks with some folks from work, the question that those of us who are single get popped up:

“Who is the perfect person for you?”

This is a difficult question to answer for numerous reasons.

First, define perfect. If I am still single, it might be because there is no perfect and I am unwilling to compromise (at this point).

Without the cynicism, I know one quality would be someone with a sense of astonishment for life. I don’t want to be with someone who goes through their days with a ho-hum, kind of bored, just grinding through life attitude.

That’s just one quality. Of course, then there are the physical attributes. Factor in all these high expectations, and you see why I am single after all of these years.

Maybe next time I am asked this question I’ll say, “I want someone as good as me.”

The People Who Won’t Let the Party Die

After The Blue Angels flew today, I rode around on my bike for a few hours. It was a nice day, afterall.

When it started getting dark, I headed back through the beach area where there were beer tents and kegs.

The beer vendors were shutting down, sweeping their kiosks and packing their trucks.

I noticed them then.

The people who drank too much, who get to the point where the only thing that will keep them going is another drink.

And they carry themselves this way, as though they are leaning into the wind.

But there are no drinks left, and they are holding onto their last sad, plastic cup of beer as though to let it go would be defeat. They look around for a place to go, a group to join.

But there is less than nothing – there is the activity of leaving.

The crowds are scurrying away, back to normality, back to health, ambition, and comfort.

The red-faced drunks are frantic for the next rush; there is nothing to fall forward into anymore, and they don’t want to settle into themselves.

After the beautiful crowd of people with their friends and children and beach blankets and cameras have picnicked and gone home for a quiet evening, the only ones left are these vampires anxious to not let the poison out of their systems.