garrison beau scott

Punctuation courtesy, The Specials.

Over the last 3 days or so, I’ve been; nervous, pessimistic, jaded, hopeful, devout, energized, diagnosed with and treated for css (chronic smiling syndrome), proud, dutiful, pained, thrilled, awed, and inspired.

And I’m not even talking about the utter beat-down laid upon the Cowboys on Sunday. Or last January for that matter.

I’d gladly, 10 times out of 10 times gladly, have traded this year’s shot at the Super Bowl for the kind of victory I (we) experienced Election Night. Hallelujah, Amen, Om, and any other expressions equaling a resounding “yes!” The kind of “yes” that comes with high-fiving, tear-wiping, and jaw-dropping as standard equipment.

At one point during the coverage, one of the panelists recalled a time when politics was America’s past-time. No World Series existed, no Super Bowl. They had elections. The emotional investment, rooting interest, and all around vibe of watching the returns come in on Election Night was an exact match on all levels to the experience of watching your team play for the Super Bowl. The only difference was the stakes.

I think we can all agree that this is an amazing country. And should any hate-monger from the fundamentalist right question the patriotism of anyone who voted for Obama, I eagerly offer the replay of what erupted in Chicago, New York and various other spontaneous spots in this and other, other I point out, countries. What the replay shows is an undeniable majority of Americans, all kinds of Americans, intensely celebrate a return to the ideals of a country they fell in love with in 1776, 1941, and 1960. Not the sham of 2000 - 2008.

But enough of the negative (for now). It’s time to celebrate. And it’s time to go to work. Obama is already on the job. Some say that he has been planning the transition and his first 100 days since he got the nod for the ticket. Some say he’s been preparing his whole life. The last thing America needs is for another blatantly obvious, tongue and cheek presidency. If he’s anything, Obama is serious about this job, he has to be, the task is large.

For the last 8 years, a hole has been dug. Dug with the highest priced, most technically advanced shovels a National Treasury can buy. The effort has been relentless, carried out at a 24/7 clip, sometimes appearing as if the existence of the hole was the sole excuse for the existence of those digging it. And now that the orders have been mandated that the digging stop, those responsible for this blight on human history will pack up their machines and simply walk away. This isn’t the Clinton Administration supposedly removing all the “W” keys from all the computer keyboards prior to handing over the keys to the Whitehouse, this is much worse. Partly because the audience is large, the expectations are immense, and the stakes are higher.

We as Americans, and especially those of us that have railed against Bush, and demanded a change in how our government governs, need to help the guy we voted for, enact the change we want. To further the “hole in the ground,” analogy, we need to show up with spoons and shovels or our bare hands if necessary, and help our 44th President with his task.

The exciting thing is we have a chance to partake in the reconstruction of so many good things. It seems as if he is asking for our help. Time to get off our asses and pitch in. Otherwise, all that standing in line and debate and effort and passion and hope will be for naught.

This was taken down by the Vltava, right outside of Prague’s city center, on the way to Vysehrad. I didn’t actually see them in use, but I’m assuming that the rings serve to tie up boats, and the ladders serve to allow captains of said boats quicker access to the bars. But again, that’s all an assumption.

But it prompted me to think about things. Life things, and the dichotomy of said life. Something I mentioned a few days back, about the pure bliss of a simple existence, has been brewing in me, and as it happens, my wife. The traveling bug has hit us again and this time very hard. If only because at this point we are helpless to do anything about it. But the bug don’t care about any of that, it just knows the quickest way to your blood and sets its teeth into your flesh while it waves your passport in front of your watering eyes. Boats adrift.

The yang to this yin then, is the tie down. The security of knowing that despite the currents, the winds and any other external forces that might bear down on your vessel, there is a strength that you are tied to, steadfast and true.

When you have children; heath insurance, heating oil, a stocked fridge, all weather tires with a healthy tread, and magical monster dust, are the tie downs you require before you lay your own damn head down at night. There is no drifting when babies are snoring contentedly in rooms down the hall.

I would, at a moment’s notice, give everything for those 2 babies of mine. There’s an amazing line in what I feel is an amazing song by MGMT, “Time to Pretend.”

“This is our decision to live fast and die young
We’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun
Yeah, it’s overwhelming but what else can we do
Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?”

Other than the dying young part, I’m on board. We’re going to need a bigger boat.

It was a crisp, cold morning. Waking up in the hotel room, for the first time on that trip, it felt like winter. We had been lucky with the weather in Prague and Budapest, and other than a rainy day in Vienna, all told we had been blessed with a mild November in Europe. Our first morning in Cesky Krumlov brought a light dusting of snow, and a great breakfast. Again, it felt like we had the place to ourselves.

The morning was simple for the sole reason that all we had to do was exist. Life should be more like that, all the time in fact. Wake up, lounge in bed, eat a great meal, dress appropriately, make sure the cameras have film, and choose a direction. Explore, love, laugh, find a pastry shop and eat whatever your heart directs your finger to point at in case you don’t speak Czech. As long as you learn Prosim (please) and Dekuji (thank you) things will go fine, just remember to order coffee with those pastries.

Belly full, new friends made, promises to never forget and off to make more pictures. Simple. The way it should be.

I dig the idea of a corner. It can be something to turn, a new route to investigate, a new future to redeem, a new point of view to gaze upon. It can bring two paths crashing together, causing spilt coffee, lost groceries, or soul mates. But I think that last scenario only happens in Hollywood “feel good stories of the year.”

The possibility, however, is there.

My Grandmother turned a corner a week ago today. For the better or for the worse, I guess depends upon which point of view you take on the after-life. I vote for the better, being the optimist I am, and knowing my Grandfather as I do (did?) I’m willing to bet he had the place all ready with some chocolates, roses and “Roll Out the Barrel” on the old phonograph. Maybe they’re in Paris, retracing the steps they took on their honeymoon. They have some catching up to do as it’s been 20 years since he left her side.

She was 87, lived a long life, survived everyone but her son, 5 grandchildren, and 6 great-grandchildren. She died in her sleep and knew she was loved by the ones she cared about. If only we all could be so lucky.

There’s a part of me that misses her immediately, and yes I’m sad. But there’s another part of me, that is in a way, happy, that it is over. Happy she has turned a corner and now sees a new path in front of her, one that doesn’t include doctors telling her what to do and what to take, a path that is limitless in scope, hopefully defined by her wildest dreams.

I’ll miss you Gaga.

I’m going to ease back into this with a shot from Prague that, in a way, reminds me of my grandmother. Thank you to everyone who shared their kind words with me regarding her.