eclectika

Remember... Captain Kangaroo , Sesame Street , Mr. Rogers , and The Electric Company ? Or how about waking up as early as you could to view the adventures of Mighty Mouse ? What about warming up your eyes to early Sunday morning cartoons? 'Toons such as The Groovy Ghoulies , Drak Pack , or The Robonic Stooges ? A Sunday morning may have also included clips from the Skate Birds , The Magic Door , HR Puff 'n Stuff or maybe even Dirty Dragon's Gigglesnort Hotel --that odd little show which took place in a unbelievably tall hotel steered by an old captain living in the penthouse and powered by a dragon who kept the broiler working in the basement. Nothing ring a bell yet? How about the good 'ol afternoon agenda? We start the line up watching Tom & Jerry or Bugs Bunny . Then things got real with  G-FORCE ! And as I recall it, the totally uncool alternative was the Mickey Mouse Club or the Banana Splits (I personally always loathed the perpetually happy Bra...

“Head down this road until you come to street with a large metal sculpture on the corner,” she said with a comforting sense of certainty in her voice. “Don’t turn there but keep going about two more blocks and you’ll see it on the right,” she finished with a smile. I repeated the directions to her and began driving down the road looking for what turned out to be a three-foot bronze piece obscured by a newspaper box—truly a marker for where not to turn. We’ve all received or even given directions like this at one point or another: clear and simple directions based on what not to do. It got me wondering about all the other types of journeys we convolute in a similar fashion. How does one find their way physically, emotionally and even spiritually in a world where tangents are easier to follow than the road itself? I was headed home from the printer ( Colorstep ) after approving poster designs for Madcap Theater . The air was crisp with Fall and the sun was beginning another glori...

“Life’s too short” is a phrase often used to begin arguments for seizing some opportunity or another. I know, I’ve used this well-worn phrase myself on numerous occasions. The most curious thing to me is how often opportunities flutter past me un -seized. It isn’t until the moment is well beyond my grasp that I notice how beautiful it would have been in my collection of life experiences. Each time this happens, I promise myself that I’ll catch the next one as I set my gaze firmly on all the things that could have been—this myopic perspective setting me up to miss another dozen or so opportunities most efficiently. Recently, I rustled the neat and stagnant rhythm of my life only to be surrounded by many new choices. At the end of each choice I could see exciting and frightening new directions for my life. Some of the opportunities, while beautiful and enticing were impractical for my current role as a husband and father. Others, however, danced ahead of me in tempting circles of r...

Life, especially for me, is full of surprises. I’d like to say I was one of those amazing people who have it all figured out. I’d love to say that my life has turned out exactly the way I planned but I can’t. The honest truth is that the closest thing to a plan for my life was the vague and arrogant thought that I was meant for something more than whatever I was currently doing. Looking at it now, I suppose you could simply call it restlessness. While the reasons for my current situation span the gamut from “dumb luck” to “divine providence,” I can only testify to the results—two beautiful children, a wonderful wife and the luxury of being able to spend as much time with them as they’ll tolerate. Most of my life, I’ve managed to just ‘get by’ on the bare minimum of effort. As a result, I also mysteriously managed to reap the bare minimum of success. All my life I have been told by friends, teachers, pastors and parents that I wasn’t living up to my true potential. Somewhere in the ...

I saw this swami once. He told me that my life would shape the world. I hadn't thought too much about that flattering moment until today. I met a very interesting young woman this evening at dinner. My wife and I decided to try a new restaurant which recently opened and, much to my wife's delight, our server was someone she knew. It turns out that my wife and our waitress are both currently enrolled in the same Improv class. At this point, you're probably thinking that I was either entertained or annoyed by the spontaneous comedy brought forth by these two women. The truth of the matter is that I found the conversation engaging and refreshing. Rather than attempt dinner theater, our server offered intelligent conversation and witty banter. Each drink refill, course delivery or clean up brought more opportunities to explore the nature of idealism, social conventions and the never ending quest for purpose. While our waitress provided thoughtful points to ponder, it was in...

So I've spent quite a bit of time away from here. While there is a giant gap in content since my last post, I thought I'd offer up this post as a form of explaination. I've been going through a lot of changes lately. You might say I've been evolving. Yeah, I think evolve is a good word to use here. Now that my children are running the house, I have been forced to re-examine my purpose in life. It turns out, after all, that my function is to wait . To help better explain how rewarding I find the act of waiting, allow me to first define the term— wait: to assume a form of stasis whereby one remains open to additional instruction while maintaining an active queue of established tasks for prompt execution after stasis has been terminated but before anyone notices that nothing was accomplished during the time stasis was being observed. I find it interesting that as primitive beings we were physical creatures of action. Almost as if we were sharks—the ceasing of movemen...

Victor was one of those children with an overdeveloped mean streak—if there was a fly to lose its wings or an ant to be burned, he was the chief executioner. Victor was also one of those kids always being sent to the principal’s office or running laps for the coach. Most parents had Victor’s parents on speed dial. When it was time to learn a new dirty word, we’d all go to Victor for our next lesson—the boy was the professor of profanity. Victor had the first collection of porn any of us had ever laid eyes on. He was also the one that showed us how to decipher breasts and other parts of the female body squiggling in and out on scrambled cable channels. Eventually our parents branded Victor a ‘problem child’ and his underground popularity grew like kudzu. As we got older, we saw less of Victor as his punishments began to involve authorities with a little more clout than the school principal. It was Victor who tried to shoplift some candy from the local drug store. When the school pla...

When I was roughly six years old, my father took me to track and field day at the college where he was teaching. There were events taking place all over the field: the high jump, the long jump, throwing activities and some assortment of gymnastic events. Surrounding all of these was a giant ring of dirt where runners were warming up for different track competitions. My father needed to do something for the day’s events so he found me a seat where I was to stay until he returned. From where I sat in the stands, I could see the runners getting prepared—their legs stretching, muscles rippling and faces grim with the determination to win. It wasn’t long before my dad was back with couple glasses of water for us to drink. It wasn’t the cold soda I was hoping for but it quenched our thirst just the same. As the day wore on, I became convinced that I could hold my own against these college runners. They seemed to be taking quite a bit of time to cover what seemed a relatively short distan...

Labor Day has always been a time of rest and relaxation for me. It was also a big holiday for my mother who might spend up to a month prior to this weekend pulling together an amazing event—a massive family gathering. Our family would rent a beach house for the long weekend and gather as many relatives under one roof as possible. The kitchen was constantly in use—sometimes hectic but always enjoyable, we were never short of food or people to eat it. Out on the beach, my cousins and I would divide our time between swimming in the ocean, building sand castles or just taking long walks and catching up. At night, we’d go into the little town nearby and have ice cream and re-stock the groceries. Some evenings we'd play board games or just sit around retelling stories of our younger days. Once the ‘older folk’ went to bed, the young and young-at-heart would watch late-night movies or take a moonlit walk on the beach swapping the stories not fit to share with parents. As we got older an...

During my elementary and high school years, my father and I spent quite a bit of time discussing my future. I was of the opinion that school was simply a waste of my time and true potential. He thought I was going to be homeless. I say that my father and I discussed this during my elementary and high school years but the debate actually chased me into college. Eventually my dad gave up the fight and I dropped out of college. Armed with my low earning power, I ventured out into the world to prove my old man wrong. You know, it's really surprising how much employers care about a diploma. You could, in fact, show up for a job wielding the ever useful 'Bachelors of [the dead language] Latin Philosophy' and become the company's next big thing. I had to depend on my charm and good looks to achieve gainful employment. After the 3rd summer of living with my parents, losing my girlfriend and floating enough credit card debt to make M.C. Hammer look more like Charles Schwab, ...

When I was a much younger child than I am now, there was a song we used to sing called, "This little light of mine." I think the words were something along the lines of, "this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...all around the neighborhood, I'm gonna let it shine...hide it under a bushel? NO! I'm gonna let it shine...let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..." The lyrics were about sharing one's beliefs with the world so that others could benefit from the blessings given you. While something gets lost without the music, the lyric's message to me have recently been found. I believe that each of us has a part to play in the shaping of our world. Some influence the course of events in grand, sweeping strokes open to the scrutiny and criticism of all. Others simply keep the wheels turning my maintaining status quo—both are equally valid forms of social participation. In the last several years, however, I've noticed a trend both ...

It's now September. More importantly, it is the 1st of the month. What, you might ask, is so important about the 1st of the month? It is an opportunity to gather a little extra luck for the month ahead. If you don't believe in luck, that's ok too because for those of us who do, there'll be more to go around. At this point, most people figure they've got nothing to lose and ask, "alright, how can I have more luck this month?" Because I'm so helpful, I'll spell out all the steps and complex rituals needed in order to generate extra luck the first of every month for that entire month. Here is how this works: 1) When you wake, the first words you speak must be none other than, "Rabbit, rabbit." note: this is doubly important if your birthday occurs during the month as you will receive double the luck for your birthday month. 2) If, for whatever reason, you've forgotten to utter the words, "Rabbit, rabbit" before any oth...