Rich and Tom
Be afraid, be very afraid.

I was driving to work the other day and I saw a bunch of backhoes, dump trucks, and a variety of other large earth-moving machines moving a large pile of dirt around in a field.  The pile had been there for some time, and there seemed no rightful reason to move it 100 yards over, but that appeared to be exactly what they were doing.

Suddenly, it clicked.  I remembered doing the same thing in my sandbox as a kid with my tonka trucks.  I’d move the same pile of sand around pretending to be the foreman of some revolutionary construction project that would change the face of civilization forever.  These were grown men still having that much fun!

I’m clearly doing it all wrong getting fat at a desk job with a button down shirt.  I propose no person should actually get to “hold” the position of “backhoe operator”, or “dump truck driver”.  Everybody should get their turn, once a year for a week.

By the way, I get my turn first!  YA-HOOO

I have put together another song this week. I guess May has been my month for song writing. Hopefully I can keep this trend up. <smile> I wrote this song to put into words my lack of vocabulary, thoughts, and self-expression with a special girl in my life. I have a feeling there will be some changes to it vocally but for now I thought I would get it recorded and out.

You can hear the song here

‘One Part of Me’

I lay before you a broken man

built up, torn down and built back up again

we lay in silence I watch your eyes

you stare back in mine and see so many lives

and I know

I know

you’ve told me what you’ve seen

but I assure you, that’s just one part of me

one part of me.

What’s to say that hasn’t been said?

ohh wait, that conversation is still in my head

my mouth is waiting for your world to see

but my voice still hides itself inside of me

and I know

I know

you’ve told me what you’ve seen

but I assure you, that’s just one part of me

one part of me

my eyes take up the part where my breath has lapsed

they take on the weight of this vocal task

My heart sinks as it knows it has more

but my mind still holds back what it wants to pour

and I know

I know

you’ve told me what you’ve seen

but I assure you, that’s just one part of me

one part of me.

it has been a few weeks since I have last posted here at Rich and Tom. Sometimes life feels so satisfying and so thick that taking time to put it down to words would diminish it. I say this while preparing to share with you my latest of songs called ‘off leaves’. I guess I am learning that sometimes life lives in such a way that certain forms of expression feel more appropriate than others. Songs, namely, are my choice of late. I wrote this song about a beautiful day spent out in the rain with someone very new in my life.

I pray that you all live lives that push you to express simply because our limited bodies cannot hold back our limitless joy.

to listen to this song simply click here.

Off Leaves

The rain comes down around us

it’s slippin down your face

your hair is pressed down upon your skin

the rain falls down around us

it’s bouncing off the leaves

it beats in time with this heart of mine

it offers me release

your eyes are bright and searching

my face you haven’t seen

in the years before you knew yourself

my eyes are wet with wonder

we’re standing in the rain

but nature is the bond between us

as we play this earthly game

and Im feelin as it’s falling

im feeling as im falling

im feeling like im falling into you

i’m falling fresh like the rain.

Now your sitting closely

with the sound of rain outside

it falls for us in the quite night

as it celebrates the look that’s in our eyes

cause Im feeling as it’s falling

I’m feeling as im falling

im feeling like im faling into you

were falling fresh like the rain.

The problem with marriage is that it ends every night after making love, and it must be rebuilt every morning before breakfast.
Love in the Time of Cholera
Dr. Urbino

We can say “bird”. We can even say “sparrow”. Yet knowing their names does not mean we know them. Tom Brown Jr., survivalist and outdoors man speaks about all of God’s creations such as animals and plants as being more than just a name. That each one is distinct and has it’s own personality. Cat and dog owners would know this. Yet how often do we lump people and things into these label bins and move on blindly through out lives without ever sampling the true distinct nature of each of these creations?

I know a Carol. A Rich. A Jess. A Kevin, Steve, and Candice. I know many people by name. Yet as much as I want to “know” them I find that their vastness and the ability for each individual to be just that, individual, is quite staggering. Many people live in the false impression that we “know” one another. When conflict arises we say we “know” someone and yet feel betrayed when they do something counter to the box we have put them in.

Have they betrayed us OR have we betrayed them (placing them in a box) and betrayed ourselves (fooling ourselves to think we can “know” someone totally in the first place)?

Believe it or not, the world is still very much a place of mystery and discovery. Media and modern culture may try to tell different but do not be fooled. Don’t become complacent in your interactions with life. Don’t assume to “know” when it takes more than a lifetime to experience enough to even get a “good idea” of something or someone. Do not sit on your laurels and file the people around you into comfortably labeled bins.

We all still hold the capacity to surprise.

I look forward to knowing YOU. Whoever you are as you read this. I understand that the effort will not be in an hour, a day, or even 10 or 20 years. It will take a lifetime to consciously approach you with new eyes and an open heart to ask the question:

“Who are you?”

hey there guys. I just recorded my first song using recording equipment I bought a year ago and never officially learned how to operate. This is a new song of mine (only about 3 weeks old). I used some filters to give it an older sound (think outdoor ampitheater recording from the 60’s) . either way, it’s an experiment in learning and expression. I hope you all enjoy. I considered writing all the reasons why I wrote this song but I think I will leave it up to interpretation for now. Please give me your thoughts and impressions.

‘Sacred Keep’ lyrics:

I escape into the country when I feel I need a home.

The trees rise above me and take me as I come.

I don’t know how to hold you when I step into this place

but the air that swirls around me plants calm upon my face.

It’s the love I always felt when I spent my time alone
among the swaying branches, the wizened air, the water on the stone.
A place without a time because it’s cradled me asleep
through the years that I have hoped and prayed for natures sacred keep.

So here I sit against this bark wishing to be held.

For the branches of my love to come and save me from this hell.

I sit and wait to no avail for the love I never touched,

for the the heart of earth is not one thing but spread out in so much.

In the love I always felt when I spent my time alone
among the swaying branches, the wizened air, the water on the stone.
A place without a time because it’s cradled me asleep
through the years that I have hoped and prayed for natures sacred keep.

I leave the shelter of the leaves, the shelter of it’s love

and spend my time within the keep of cinder blocks and doves.

A mighty wind blows from the west and carries in it’s air

the perfume of a love forgot until I enter there

into the love I always felt when I spent my time alone.
among the swaying branches, the wizened air, the water on the stone.
A place without a time because it’s cradled me asleep
through the years that I have hoped and prayed for natures sacred keep.

you can find the song at:

www.myspace.com/thestormmusic42

Just heard about this on NPR this morning. Portishead has released their first new album in ten years. It’s called “Third”, and from the sounds of the clips they played during the NPR interview they’re once again pushing the boundaries of the genre.

You can buy it here on amazon.com, or if you’re a torrent-wise pirate, download it here :)

I was told yesterday that I should invest in some Rogaine.  <long sigh>  I have heard “Tom, your going bald up there” since I was in 5th grade.  5 GRADE PEOPLE! <smile>  and yet, as I raise my hand to my head I can’t help but feel more scalp than hair as I play between rude contrast from top of head to side of head.

My momma always had thin hair.  As I grew up she always had short hair.  I have seen pictures of her when she was younger.  Long dark hair.  Petite.  50 years earlier.   Being young with no sense of genetics, I always thought I would inherit my father’s hairline.   He sported the baldest patch on the back of his head.  Enough that I remember my mom commenting on the fact that one night she had seen the reflection of the moon on it while my dad lay sleeping in the bed.  Over the years I have realized at least one thing;  I do indeed share my mom’s thin hair.  But thinning hair?  I’m not sure.

Most of you who know me know I have a habit of changing my appearance spur of the moment.  I think:
Would I wear it well?

What will I look like when I am my partent’s age?

What does it matter?

I grow my beard because it is what I was born with (not BORN with a beard, get that thought out of your head) .   God gave me the innate ability to make it so I sport one to possess the different possibilities of appearance.  (also because i have a fond memory of a picture of my father with a full salt and pepper beard-one that I never saw him wear in person, it’s a comfort beard).

God gave me this body, not Rogaine.

We live in a culture that espouses youth and discards the idea of old age.   Aging nobly is for stories of our ancestors.

Must be irrelevant today.

We spend so much money on our appearances.  I do believe in taking care of oneself.  Of staying healthy.  But if I had to choose to spend 5 grand on a face lift or a few months traveling, well, you know what i would pick.  Point is people work and work to survive, then work and work to improve their looks artificially in order to look good while they are at their jobs working to pay it off.

Self worth can be found in so many other things, in so many other ways.  But I say this in a society of quick fixes and cover-ups.

Living.  LIVING INTENTIONALLY.

We all have, even if they are deep down inside us, desires and goals for this life.   Find those, not some superficial pick-me-up.

I have already spoke a bit on perspective in my blogs, I lose it all the time.  The idea though is to  COME BACK.  To return to center.  Work to regain a footing and push on.

God gave me a foundation.  Gave me an image.  An identity.

You know what the is great about that?

He didn’t give it to just me.

It’s ten lanes wide with hundred foot high guardrails.

You can’t see around the bends or over the next hill.

It’s paved in places and rocky in others.

There are no exits.

It’s full of traffic when all we want is space.

It’s dark and abandoned when we long for the love and comfort of another.

It’s life

Let go of the wheel.

I returned home on at 3:00 am on June 20th 2001 from a business meeting. After preparing for bed and brushing my teeth I walked past my mom’s room. She was sleeping peacefully. I remember her on her King sized brass bed sleeping on her side. I walked in and kissed her on the cheek while she slept. I told her I loved her.

That was the last time I saw her.

My father’s name is Don. He died of a heart attack in July of 2000. My mother, Lynn, was involved in a fatal car accident in June of 2001. Since that year death has been a staple of my life. Brevity has defined how I interact and appreciate the world. It is why I run away and why I stay.

I bade my “sleep wells” and “good nights” last night and in the rush my friend gave me a “pat hug”. now, for those of you that dont’ know, a pat hug is a very sterile “I dont’ know you very well” , “I dont’ like close contact”, or “I am too busy to give you a real hug” hug. It is not an embrace, instead it is a slight meeting of the shoulders with a polite pat of the hand two or three times on the recipients back. you all know who you are who give them or have received them. If you get one on a first date…there won’t be a second.

so. anyway.

My friend had fallen into the last catagory; “preoccupied”. I called her on it explaining to her in no uncertain terms (and lightheartedly) that she would be very disappointed if I woke up dead the following morning and she realized that the last thing she did was give me a “pat hug”. That didn’t fly too well as the idea of death was not the lightest of subjects that evening. I eventually wrestled a real hug in before retiring for the night.

Over the years I have noticed that people approach and react to the (I won’t say idea because it is more than idea, it is a CERTAINTY) certainty of death and the notion of it happening in two, well perhaps three, basic ways.

1. There is the refusal to recognize death as a PART of the life process as well as the refusal to engage in talk of it. It doesn’t exist.

2. There is a immediate saddness and awkwardness that doesn’t lift until talk of death has moved onto something lighter such as rollercoasters or toaster ovens.

3. Curiosity and genuine question asking which can play on both sides of the emotional fence. both tentative and reserved as well as eager and forthright. combinations are limitless. These obviously don’t spell out the wide range of approaches and emotions that go into the depth of death and the great beyond but this will serve my purposes today.

early in the “pat hug” evening I also confronted someone who was very direct (yet sensitive) with me and asked several questions about my parents and their death. I appreciated it greatly because most people in my life avoid the subject. There are other close friends in my life who, even when I am talking about some memory and not their death directly, get very solemn and serious.

For me, I have had my heavy moments. well, I live the heavy moment daily. but I also have been known to treat my personal loss with a modicum of humor as well over the years. If only to lighten the mood or keep it from getting serious in the first place. Many days it is not heavy and discussion concerning my parents helps create a recognition of how mom and dad LIVED, not how they DIED.

I have noticed that most people have no concept of how to handle death and loss in their lives. We, as a culture, seem to live as though we are immortal and never look at the future and the inevitable cessation of this life. We ignore it and are so very surprised when it happens. We live in our “immediate gratification world” a world of “entitlement”.

How could we NOT have what we want?

How could we NOT have control?

Let me tell you. We are not in control. We simply don’t know the time or place.

How do you react when you think about it?

do you question or shutdown?

do you think about it?

It’s not unhealthy to think about death, to talk about death. Obsession can be unhealthy but a recognition and a awareness of death can be a very good way to retrieve lost perspective in this life.

Proximity to death changes a person. I can’t say how it will change you. What it has changed in me since my parents passing is the lighting of a fire inside me that wants to engage people and work toward relationships and resolution. For balance and most importantly for those around me to know that I love them and appreciate their role in my life. That they are not just “somebodies” in my life but “someones.” I can’t say that I always do it perfectly, but the urge is no less strong and working behind the scenes.

The idea that when you are thankful say “THANK YOU”

If you like their pants or their smile “LET THEM KNOW”

When you may not like someone at the moment but you know you love them make sure you say “I LOVE YOU”

How do you interact on a daily basis with those around you? As in the catchy country song out, do you “live like you are dying”?

Don’t go to sleep at night without those close to you knowing how you really feel behind disappointment or anger, busyness or fatigue.

I speak from experience; I kissed the kiss goodnight that was the kiss goodbye.

When I bought my house, the majority of the houses on the other side of the street for that block were vacant. They all showed telltale signs of harsh Pennsylvania weather and years of disrepair. There was a surplus of better-condition housing elsewhere in town, and I often wondered how long these houses would stand before mother nature finally won.

As the market picked up, several of these houses sold and the owners were turning their new purchased run-down coal era homes into modern vinyl-sided, remodeled little wonders. Just recently, another of these battered bungalows was picked up by a family moving into the area. They propped up the rotting porch, installed new locks, and starting carrying waves of supplies and various personal belongings inside.

A few days ago, I noticed a small gathering of local folk on my front steps, staring at roof-level across the street. Apparently my new neighbors had contracted to have their roof replaced (it was in dire need), and the results we’re, well, worthy of a good solid stare.

Trust me, you’ll want to click the image to see the full-size picture.

I don’t even have words at this point. I can’t say I’m a roofer, ever aspired to be a roofer, or even know a roofer, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s done. I’ve talked with the owners of the house, and they do plan on seeking a claim with the contractor who performed the work, but this shouldn’t even be necessary. Who in their right mind does work like this? A half-drunk monkey on meth with 3 fingers and one leg could, and probably would, do better work.