Dru’s New World

“I want that one,” I said pointing to the perfect image of a Bald Eagle with the full moon behind it.
“Where would you like it?” The tattoo artist asked in a bored monotone voice. I could sense the boredom of a man used to new recruits walking in as if they were going to be the next hero a movie would be about. A bunch of kids that barrely had to shave, could not legally go into a bar and order a drinkand have never had the opportunity to vote for the Commander in Cheif that was going to send them to horrors they could not imagine.
I was the typical new recruit that left for basic training with the most beautiful girl waiting for my return to have the small wedding in my new uniform. I not only thought I needed to do the ritual tattoo a graduate wanted but I needed some meaning to mine.
While I was looking though the abused three ring binder of cookie cutter tattoo’s, all I could think about was the letter I received half way though Basic Training. The Letter that made my heart leap and my spirits soar when I saw the beautiful hand writing of my love.
“I know this is not easy for you and you are going though a stressful time. I can not imagine how alone you must feel in a place where you know no one. I have been doing a lot of thinking this past month and realize that I want to enjoy my first year of college and not worry about being a wife. I want to see you before you leave the country but I can only see you as a friend. I am sorry.”
I had full intentions of a tattoo that showed my torment, maybe a heart that was getting torn like a piece of paper, or a boot squashing the life out of a heart. I then saw this Eagle which to me was a symbol of America, a symbol of strenght, power and most of all wisdom. A moon, a huge mass that lost a part at every rotation, the look of damage every time it passed by, but a mass that always regenerated and you could count on seeing whole again. The combination of the two symbols made a symbol that showed my prayers. The prayer I said every night,
“Lord, please give me the strength to heal my damaged heart. Give me the wisdom that it will heal. Lord show me that my heart will regenerate like the moon so easily does. Lord let me survive and learn from this pain.”
“So, where do you want it,” the impatient artist asked once again.
“Above my heart,” I said with the air of confidence I have not felt since I opened that envelope.

I have never been a fan of cell phones. I believe that the only
reason for my dislike of the phone I could carry everywhere began with
my first supervisory position. This was the first job where I was
issued a cell phone, “in case of an emergency.”
This dislike was compounded by the genius that came up with a cell
phone that also could provide email support. As the person in charge
of a communication center I quickly realized that they could now reach
me 24-7 for those small issues that were not worth the phone call.
Ever since I left that position I stayed far away from the, “more than
a phone” cell phone technology. That is until I was looking for a
personal organizer. I recently realized how far Technology has come
since that first Blackberry I was issued many years ago.
For Christmas this year I went to my old addiction of online auctions.
I ended up winning an auction for a used Palm Treo. This is day two
of it in my possesion and day one after my ability to use it after
switching from my old phone.
This Treo is great. I still have a lot of “playing” to figure some
things out but I LOVE IT.
I have been writing in my blog for awhile now and have been trying to
get some of my thoughts organized. I am currently sitting here typing
this on my new device and will be able to post it without sitting at
my desk.
Technology is great…

I started this blog in hopes to help my writing.  I have always been interested in creative writing and telling the stories of my life with little exagerations.  I do want to get something out there that has the disclaimer, “All names have been changed to protect the innocent” (does that mean I don’t have to change the name if they were guilty?)

I have started a few projects over the years to find that my life is very humorous to outsiders and the stories I can tell would make a great sitcom.  I however can not finish one story without something else in my life taking a humorous turn towards a tragic comedy.  Then there is also the fact that I tend to write more and better while I am in a depressed state of mind, which is hard to do when you are trying write about it and it ends up making you laugh.  So I am trying to get an idea of how to finish a project.  How can I finish a project when the weekly grind of life makes it difficult to think that the past week was tragic?

Right now I am working on the past tragic instance in my life but I am looking at how the path that was tragic at the time has led to the beautiful (and humorous) events of the present.  It just makes me think more about the regrets I do not have.  There have been a lot of things that people may look at and say, “Don’t you regret that decision?”  But everytime I actually sit down to think about it I view the outcome of that decision and think, “I wouldn’t change it because it has made me the man that I am today.”

Sometimes I am just amazed at my oldest daughter. One of the gifts I received this year might be the most thoughtful gift I have ever recieved. My daughter is now 11 and of course in school she has learned how bad smoking is to you and the dangers of smoking.
I am not sure how she came up with this stuff but when I was opening presents this year for Christmas she had wraped a package and what was inside made me feel a lot of emotions. All at once I felt happiness, love, pride, and most of all Fear.
She had made this present from her heart that was for sure and the first thing I saw was a note,

Dad,
I love you but this present is for your daughters.

So I continued on though a small package. The next thing I saw in the package was a Contract already signed by my Oldest Daughter and a Scribble Mark from my youngest. There was a space on the contract for me to sign. This Contract said that I would try to quit smoking on Monday, January 7, 2008. On this day I will allow my daughter to throw away all my cigarettes, Lighters, Ashtrays and anything else she believes causes me to smoke.

After I read though it I noticed that there was a pen in this little package and some 3×5 cards. There were little things on the cards that my daughter wrote. “Dad, I want you to see me Graduate from High School.” and “‘Dad, I want you to see me go to my Prom.’ ‘Dad, I want you to see me get married.’ ‘Dad, I want my children to know you.’ ‘Dad, we Love you.’”

This brought the tears, I quickly grabbed the pen and signed the contract. I am looking forward to January 7th, 2008. I feel it is going to be a great year.

I wonder if she read this Blog!

After getting a chance to talk to my Elementary School Best friend this weekend my mind started bringing up a lot of memories of my childhood. One of the conversations that we had was about our adventures. We lived in a development of boxes that all looked the same just different colors. I am sure if I was to look at it now from an adult view I would see the robotic view of parents leaving in the morning and parents coming home at night. I am sure that the most interesting thing that my parents ever saw while living in one of those dupicate development houses is the time the house about a mile away blew up and we could see it from the porch. But as a child in that neighbor hood it was adventure after adventure.

We were discussing this weekend the long trips into other worlds that we would see without a thought to the rest of the world. It didn’t matter if it was sitting in the tree in the back yard or if we followed “Rock Cliff” then passed “Root 2 Path” for hours and ended up in the middle of a forest that to us was a aventureland that know explorers have ever seen before. But looking back now it is hard to believe that this small amount of land that was surrounded by these duplicate houses held so much potential for excitement. Although over 20 years have gone by since the last time I explored that area I can garuntee that me and my child hood friends have seen more in those woods than anyone else has since. I actually can close my eyes and take a tour of this land that was our home. from the “Gateway” across the street to the cliff on the other side.

There were 4 of us that traveled that land with nothing more than an imagination and a pair of shoes. but as soon as we would leave JD’s backyard and cross though the gateway we were all alone in the world. There were terrifying slips on the rock cliff there were times we just couldn’t climb the mud on the step trail. These were the moments that team work was important. We had our own little aspect in the group that would assist each other though the bad times. The Brains that would provide a plan for any situation. The Conscience that would not allow us to do the completely stupid and kept us from getting into trouble. The Brawn that could muscle the team though it all. The Leader, the one that would come up with the great ideas of where to go and we would follow for days if we had to. The four of us had the perfect team, everyone had their part but we all had the one common factor that made the team work, We all loved to explore.