Morning Recollections

Ten o'clock. The day is still young and so many thoughts still tug at my mind. Records of last night's spanish conversation over the realities of life plays in my head, mixed with the lessons Steinbeck inscribed in his novel. There is a sad, but real truth in that money illegally obtained, is still respected as long as the truth of its illegal winning is never proven. Heck, people can even know that is likely illegal money, but the family is still respected as member of the nobility. Take the Kennedys, or the Clintons, few remember that their money came from disreputable pursuits. All that is remembered is that they have it.

Will we too sell out? Only for the short-lived glory of being able to obtain anything we might come to fancy in this temporary world? Rodrigo told the drama of coming to the end of life and having to regard our personal one in all its entirety. There we will be forced to see the problems and shortcomings to which we are blind while here, or refused to accept about our stately selves. Interestingly though, the author of the drama believes that we will also come to view investments that we passed up, that would have come to great wealth for us, but we were too much possessed of fear to jump off the cliff of uncertainty.

I think every one of us desires financial security. No one wants to wander about begging for their next meal, or even having to consider finances as he spends. Of these I am the greatest, spending when it is there and buying nothing when it is not. I believe this is the sole luxury of a single man, for if my current job fails there are a million others begging to be tried, and my track record shows limited failure. For with a family, comes stability, a secure lodging within a community, and hence a lodging within some social strata as well. Too often it seems the wife is all too aware of this reality and it torments her, and hence the man is driven to find some way to better provide for and luxuriate the existence of his partner and progeny.

There is an interesting quandary here too, for the younger man sooner promises himself to his bride, and with more financial struggles is able to grow a family richer in youth, and in truth. For the young man can give life to many more children than his middle-aged, financially more secure counterpart. There is an allure to a youthful marriage as well, for as we all know the young are more romantic than the old. It is for us to choose individually, but at some point when we find one with whom the vocation of marriage can thrive, we decide which course we wish to take.

This is not meant to be a dream world, where everyone gets the same great results from life. No, some of us choose well and lead a difficult, but rewarding existence; others choose poorly, and despite all of the hard work that may follow for the them, the reward is always the same stark, unforgiving reality. Yes, some of us were predisposed to certain choices, before we understood what we chose by choosing them, but all of us at some point come to a realization, whether we deny it or not, that we have chosen the life that we are living. Therefore, we also get to choose what we want to do with tomorrow and the uncertain days to follow. I think the view of Rodrigo's drama is a great one to accept. No matter what transpired before you, to effect you to be the person you are; who and what do you want to see in that film that will replay before your very eyes at the end of your life?

Thanks!!!

This goes out to all my volleyball players, with whom I have become such great friends, and was so fortunate to lead through one of the most amazing seasons of my short life. I still cannot believe how much success we had, but found that true relationships and good friendships are built through living our lives together. To run away and seek only for ourselves would not bring this same level of satisfaction, this level of joy, and assurance of being loved. During every huddle, every practice, every match all I had to do was to look into any one of your eyes to see the passion there and the desire to give everything for the cause of the team! Unfortunately this passion is unmatched in the world at large, the working, bill-paying public cannot fathom the depths of our experience this year. I only wish they could, and pray that they will find their passion in a constructive activity.

As we grow, we leave the things of our youth: games, sandboxes, certain toys; but I believe we always yearn to have that feeling again. Being a part of something, thriving on every moment, and anxiously awaiting every future moment to come. This well describes the volleyball season of this past year. Every new match was a new challenge that I could not wait to see you all through. In my heart, and in truth, we were never beaten until that final game. And should we have opportunity to play it again, I have no doubt that we would play it differently and give our opposition a different look.

I cannot describe the joy that I felt last night, looking at all of you guys celebrating a season well-played, and lives well-lived! You are so fortunate, and I am so fortunate to have had you as a part of my life. I love you all very much and look forward to seeing the great things that you will accomplish with your lives. Let only your dreams be the limit. And if you ever want to discuss what that means, I would love to oblige!!! God bless and keep you. Go out there and get 'em!!!

In a poetry mood...

It seems every time I get up the gall to post something new on here it takes the form of a poem, but I think it is such a beautiful contrast that poetry can be so concise and yet convey a deeper message than words written in prose. My father and I discussed yesterday that those possessions of ours which took the most time to be created have the greatest meaning for us. In other words, consider a photograph, which in most cases took only a split second to create; we ponder it for the equal split second and then move on to the next. However, should we find an old letter from a former girlfriend, from a parent, friend, or sibling; we treasure it as gold before us, savoring every word, and then reading it again and again. Prose is easy, poetry takes time; let us savor the gift John Donne gave to the world:

For Whom the Bell Tolls

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.