The Problem with Daughters and Wives

Honey, Daddy, Father, Dad, Baby, Aaron, even A on occasion and sometimes, when I have seriously pushed the most important person in my life's buttons, Arugghhhh Newell, I know this last one becasue when Amberly pushes those buttons it's ARRUGHHH Little Newell.  These are the names I have been known by some of them for eight years, others for 17.   I am one of those guys that's blessed with a family that loves him and with a wife he doesn't deserve.  I know a lot of people say that but I don't just say it I embody it.  My family has followed me all over the eastern and central part of the United states in pursuit of not just a career but a calling.  They have lived with my successes and failures, I've had both as all of us do.  They have put up with my fear, my bitterness, my angst, my anger, my wandering, my stupidity, my happy times and my sad.  They are the most important people in my life and I am extremely blessed to have them.

You may think that the last paragraph would mean I couldn't possibly have an issue or find a spot for criticism of the women in my life, ah if only this were true.  I have been beset upon by quite the emotional phenomena, particularly in the past eight years.  I am proudly a member of the sarcastic club of America, I'm cynical, caustic, and even cutting sometimes with my humor.  I have always been this way, at least as long as I can remember.  I'm the guy that used to pray for tears every once in a while just to remember that I had tear ducts and that I wasn't all dry inside.  Interesting thig is that the prayer was usually answered and I was able to shed a tear and feel that unmistakable release that comes from tears.  I had in fact gotten used to that being how I cry, sort of a request to God that would prove to me that I was a soft hearted nice guy.  I liked that actually. Spoke to what I always wanted to be a man who could keep himself in check and everyone knew they could count on and that he had it together.

It's very hard for me to believe that we are where we are right now.  I am looking at the months of December and January with trepidation for obvious reasons.  Most of the people who are reading the blog started reading a little over 10 months ago and will understand why I make that statement, and no I'm not going to revisit those posts or give you the run down, if you're that interested go on ahead and read them for yourself.  What I am going to do is explain the Title.

Sunday afternoon the Newell's decided it would be fun to watch a movie and eat together.  Entertainment of choice... WallE.  Yes that's right a movie about robots and fat people.  I confess to enjoying the premise even if robot love seems like some twisted concept from a bad letter to the editor. (use your imagination)  As the movie came to it's inevitable WallE and EVE save the world conclusion, complete with EVE realizing how much she "Loved" WallE moment and her having to fix him and then try and bring back his memory I stood up went to the TV and prepared to shut things down.  J was about to make a comment when she came to the realization that the deep breaths and throat clears were attached to something more than allergies.  She did her best to suppress a laugh and said "are you really?"  I took off upstairs with some excuse about needing to do something or other just to get away from the situation.

This is of course not a new ground breaking thing that was happening.  The other day as I was heading home from work listening to Harry Potter on my Ipod, Dobby the house elf died.  If you didn't read the books and are waiting for the movie, well sorry to ruin that bit of the plot for you,  I did it again, started to get that feeling behind my eyes and had to clear my throat and wipe at them.

Here I am a normally stoic individual, love zombie movies, Halloween and scaring my kids.  I like to play Halo and Left 4 Dead.  Reading King, Lovecraft, and others is very enjoyable to me.  Laugh at things that most would find disconcerting, love a good horror flick and want to go to Burketsville and camp in the woods just because it seems like a cool place to go and a neat thing to do, crying at a Kids movie or the death of a freakin house elf, really thats what it takes now.

That's the problem with daughters and wives.  They ruin the crusty shell and make the gooey center come out more than you want it too. They make you realize that your not all that hard.  They wake up emotions and feelings that most would rather not have awake, and they do it with a smile, or a look, or a word.  They do it by being in the hospital, or by telling you they dont need you, they can do it by themself, they do it by wearing their headphones while they do their homework, or by getting into the car by themself, or by looking up at you as you hug them and setting their head against your chest and telling you that your their favorite person even with all your faults and problems.  They do it and many times they don't know they are doing it, because for some reason I just can't tell them that they are ruining me.

The real problem with my daughters and wife is that they love me.  I'm privileged to get to love them back.

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A horse named Charlie, a Man name Alice, and a Boy named Aaron.

Greetings dear readers, I must apologize for my LONG absence.  I have started several different posts, I've logged into Wordpress and just stared at the blank page, attempting to will some words onto the screen.  I've had things to say but just couldn't seem to make them make sense.  I'm still not sure I can, however I'm hoping that this will break the dam that has been keeping the words fuzzy. Anyway on to my title. I recently celebrated a birthday that took me three years away from 40.  This is not one of the easiest things to deal with but hey you live with it, it happens to everyone.

So why the strange title.  My age is starting to show and as much as I want to deny it well it's just not true,  I am getting older, I won't say I'm getting old, but older works for me.  What are the road signs you ask?  Here they go in order of appearance.

A horse named Charlie:  A couple nights ago I was woken from a dead sleep as was J with a wrenching pain in my leg.  I never really understood why people would complain so much about this phenomenon, and if you have never experienced it, well just be glad.  I came up off the bed into a sitting position, and while I won't admit to screaming like a little girl I will admit to a deep manly scream the likes of which would make one wonder what was wrong with me.  I would like the horse named Charlie to know he can stay in his stall or roam in other pastures or do anything but invite me for another ride.  However if I am to understand correctly this is not a promise said horse can make me, and as I get older it is very likely that he will once again invite me for a trot around the bedroom.

A man named Alice:



Sunday afternoon/evening I was able to head over the Merrieweather Post Pavilion for a concert that had among others, Alice cooper.  Great show, I love his music, and the theatrics that he puts on just are really cool.  I had a great time sang along, pumped my fist in the air, jumped around a little, basically acting like I was 17 years younger than I really am.  What made me realize my age however was the median age of people going to hear him.  Most of the people that were there for his portion of the concert had hair that was getting gray and bodies that were sliding down the slope toward, well the best way to explain it would be comfortable.  Even worse was the realization that if I didn't shave my head on a regular basis I would either look older than I am due to a definite lightening of the hair, that is if I still had much of my own since when it does start to grow out I realize how little of it I would have left.  I decided a while ago that when my hair got to a certain point I would just shave it off and be the master of my own hair destiny.  Surprisingly I have a head that looks okay bald.

A boy named Aaron goes along with the man named Alice part of the story.  Track with me here for a moment, not wanting to go to the concert alone, J is not into cooper or zombie, I took a guy she teaches with and yes ironic as it seems his name is Aaron.  Age realization hit when he got in the car and we started listening to music and talking, then when we were at the concert it just continued.  No real clue about Alice, when the midget wrestlers came on he wanted to be right up on the apron of the ring, basically it was just really hard to believe this kid, who is 13  years  younger than me had no idea about some things.  I am really into music and I came to the realization that I was old when it bothered me that he didn't know the name to a Zombie song he "loved"  Aaron FYI it's DRAGULA not DRACULA.

The next day was even worse, everything sounded like it was being filtered through a bunch of cotton, and I couldn't talk.  Jumping around screaming my head off at 37 is much different from jumping around and screaming my head off at 18 or 20.  Did I have a good time yes, would I do it again yes, however I may end up not singing along as loud or as much.

The thing is I don't really feel old, and I don't necessarily think I am, for the most part.  It's just when I hang out with and do things that are supposed to be done by much younger people that I feel out of sync.

I have no idea what this actually means,  I will try and figure it out and let you know, once I know.

I have been living life and remembering and going through the past for a long time now.  I try and get away from it but it always sneaks up on me, like some bad horror movie monster.  I love scary movies and usually laugh at them,  I'm trying to do that now, it's funny though I'm just like the stupid girl in the nightgown that hears a noise in the basement and goes down to investigate without turning on any lights.  I fall for the monsters tricks far to often and end up bleeding emotions on the floor of my mind.  Do me a favor, if you are into it, and if you have the ability to keep me in your thoughts and prayers.  I know that there is something out there for me, something that God wants me to do.  I know what I am, what I was made to be, I just don't always see how to get there.  As the Horse and the Man and the Boy go back and forth in my life I wonder if there really is a place for an old guy that just wants to serve and pour into a group that needs loved and built up and taught how not just to be followers, but how to be relevant followers.