Pork Chop Night part 4

I sat there for a long time, just taking in the room and my father’s presence. He was an intimidating man. Not big necessarily but be had a definite captivation, you could feel it when he was in the room even if he didn’t know you were there.  It was a classic study, filled with the novelties of manhood. It had wood lined walls and green carpet, all rather nice if not expected. The south and west walls were concealed with floor to celling bookshelves and they were completely bursting with books. There was a gun case built into the north west corner filled a couple of old Berettas and a pair of Holland and Holland twenty gauges he bought on a business trip to London. My dad loved his guns. His favorite was an Abercrombie and Fitch double barrel that he got from Ernest Hemingway’s collection. He bragged about it a lot. He had to show it to every man that asked, and most of the time to those who didn’t. “He’s a hell of a guy” he told everyone about Hemingway  to which my mother would reply, with the courage of a couple highballs, “you bought it at a charity auction, dear, he only talked to you because you bought it.” The north wall held ornate frames housing my fathers law degrees from both Cornell and Harvard, hung just to the right of the door, and among other various accomplishments and certifications. Above the door was mounted a giant boars head, the body of which I always thought to be suspiciously missing. I hated it, it had horns and big glass eyes and I was glad the body was gone, that way he couldn’t ever get down. I always had a dream where my dad and the bust would be in a conversation about politics, the banter would turn into a heated debate and eventually a conflict over policy. My father would get up and walk to his gun case, take out the old Abercrombie and blast him right between the eyes, saying something like, “I didn’t think I’d have ta shoot you twice.” I would be sitting where I usually sit, here at the back of the desk, watching. He would turn around and notice me and pull me up by the arm and into his lap where we would smoke Cubans together.

            I sat and smelled his cigars. He smoked one every night. Him and my mom used to go to Havana often. I would stay with my grandma most of the time. I did go 

END CHAPTER I

BEGIN CHAPTER II

God I hate him. He’s such a prick. Anyways, I need to get Marcus off to school and I just cannot think about him right now. It’s just that I go to the trouble every night to make him dinner and he doesn’t even eat with us, Always sitting alone in that godamned office. Well, I don’t go to the trouble do I? Tony does. He’s a good cook; I don’t know what we would do without him. Jesus, When did I become so pretentious? We have a fucking live-in cook for crissake. It just so unreal, and when I say unreal I mean UNREAL. It’s so fucking fake, this whole life is.

“Marcus, come on now honey. What are you doing in there?” I called down the hall

“Coming mom, just havta brush my teeth one more time.” Marcus yelled back.

He’s the only thing worthwhile in this goddamned city. I’m not sure why he has to brush his teeth like that though. He certainly is a strange child. I shouldn’t think that, he’s my son. But the truth is he really is odd. Royal says its “just a phase that he will grow out of” but I’m not sure. Even his name is pretentious, the prick. What kind of name is ‘Royal’ anyway?

“Marcus! Were going to be late!”

“You don’t have to walk me anymore mom, I have my bike now remember?” Marcus shouted down the hall.

“Well your going to be late anyway.“  

Royal hates it when we yell down the hall at each other. He says it’s “just not what good people do.” Well Fuck him, he’s never here anyway. “That’s what you get for marrying a senator,” he always says. He’s right about that, I hate it when he’s right, the prick. 

“Marcus! Now!”

Marcus tumbled out of the back hall and into the great room, his schoolbooks scattering on the floor in his rush-to-a-stop at my feet.

“Marcus! How many times have I told you to take better care of your schoolbooks?”

“Sorry mom, but you really don’t need to take me to school today.” He said, “I’ve got my bike.” 

That damn bike, I fought Royal for two years, TWO YEARS, to get him that goddamned bike. “He needs to save up for his own bike.” Royal always said, “he’ll appreciate it more.” I don’t want to think about that right now either. 

“Sure sweetheart, but be careful. I don’t know what I’d do If something happened to you.”

“I will mom, It’s a Hawethorn Zep, I’m the fastest thing out there.”

I walked Marcus down to the foyer and waved goodbye to him. I waited until he rounded the corner at the end of our block and I could no longer see him. I closed the door and walked back up to the great room. We have a live-in maid, so it was always spotless and perfect, nothing out of place. God we’re ostentatious.      

How To Be a Man

I have been thinking on manliness a lot lately. I have never been considered a real mans man if you will. I don’t much care for the traditional sports or feel the need to drive a truck or join a fraternity. That’s just not me. I don’t have huge muscles or a beard. I got to thinking of the true meaning of the word Manliness and I came to the conclusion that we have it entirely wrong in our society. Manliness does not require drinking to much and getting into fights, watching football or fixing cars so much as being a woman requires baking cakes and knitting doylies. It is so much more than that, and most men fall very short of the mark. Trying to describe what manliness actually is is very challenging. It is so multifaceted that it will never be something you can pinpoint. But here is my explanation, the best I can give.    

I like nice things. I like old things. I like nice old things. I hate it when old thing are no longer considered useful and are tossed aside, unwanted, no longer suitable for the task at hand. The quality of things is paramount to their longevity and in my short time on this planet I have found that this is not just true for objects, but for men as well. Some men will outlive their usefulness and others will die long before their utility is ever fulfilled. For a man to be of great usefulness he must, as with anything of quality and value, be built on a strong foundation with the finest of materials. He must possess a firm grasp on the world and all of its shortcomings as well as its endless beauty and wonder. He must appreciate the value in others as well as himself and expound with great enthusiasm on the advantages given to him in his position in life. He must realize the absurdity and coincidence of his existence and never take anything, even the smallest of things, for granted. His tenacity must be never ending and he must always accept accountability for his actions. He must look at the world through a lens of temperance and humility and always consider all sides of every possibility. And most importantly he must respect himself as well as each and every individual he comes in contact with, for there is something to be learned from everyone and everything.

As you can see, being a man is no easy task. It takes dedication, risk, and patience but the rewards are far greater than you can imagine. To be able to look back on your life as an old man and know that you tried your best against all odds, holding steadfast against the current that is popular delusion, is a great and pleasing thing.  But it is better yet to look forward as a man not yet aged and know that you are doing everything you can. I would like to say that I embody all these qualities but I simply do not. All I can do is wake up and try to be a better man with every step, and that is acceptable.  

Pseudo Eco-Chic

Rachel and I have been going Trap shooting lately. It’s a whole ton of fun and I’m not that bad at it. The first time I went I hit 9 out of 25. Last time I hit 20 out of 25. That’s a 44% gain in just one week. If I keep gains like this up Ill be on the Olympic team by next year. I was just saying to Rachel as we were watching this year’s Olympics that I wish there was something that I could do to get in the games that is easy. I want to be an Olympian but I don’t really want to get in shape. I think skeet shooting might be it. Not that it’s that easy, but lets face it, it’s no 400-meter dash. I’m never going to do that. I’m never going to be a long jumper or a swimmer either. Skeet and trap shooting require almost no physical prowess. Perfect. Who am I kidding; I’ll never be an Olympian unless they decide to put competitive Google searching in there. ‘Caus let me tell you; I can out Google search anyone I know. Need to find something online? Just let me know.

I shoot with an old Winchester model 12 shotgun. Actually, its my dad’s old Winchester model 12 and it was my great grandfathers. It’s a no-nonsense, working gun. And guess what? After doing a little Google searching I found a website with all the serial numbers for these guns, and this one was made in 1915. 1915! Almost 100 years old and it works just like the day it was new. I just shot 50 rounds through it last weekend without a singe jam or misfire. This got me thinking. Will any of the stuff I have and use right now be around and useful 100 years from now? Probably not. I think maybe my Volvo but that because old Volvos are like cockroaches. They never die. You know how people say that after the nuclear fallout all that will be left is Twinkies and cockroaches? Well, they forgot Volvo 240s. But that doesn’t count because it to was made 27 years ago. Will any of my iThingies or made in china Swedish furniture still be here when I’m dead and gone? Not likely. I have a kitchen table that I bought when I moved up to Walla Walla from an antique store there that came out of the 1913 sears catalogue. Also 100 years old and also still works flawlessly for its intended purpose. You have to understand that these things were not “high end” when they were new 100 years ago. They were cheap and affordable for the working class. The model 12 was a gun that was marketed towards men who could only afford one gun, and it went on to tame the American west. You know where you buy cheap working class things now? Wal-Mart. Is there anything at Wal-Mart that will be around in even 10 years from now let alone 100? Maybe only Twinkies. 

I really have no point to this particular rant other than we need to start thinking about where our things come from and what they are made out of. I have always been a quality over quantity guy and I think that if we are going to move forward as a world community that we will all have to be. If you buy a quality product the first time then you wont have to buy it again and again every time it breaks, and that’s just economical as well as eco-friendly. I think sustainability needs to move from buying NEW eco friendly products to buying OLD already manufactures thing like my Volvo or the model 12 shotgun and use them! They already exist so your carbon footprint stays low; no manufacturing pollution. If its one thing I hate is this pseudo eco-chic Bulls**t that seems to be everywhere these days. You see all these Hipster wannabes driving around a brand new Prius with paper Starbucks coffee cups, and leather jackets made out of baby calves talking about how eco friendly they are because they shop at whole foods. It’s fake. If you really want to make a difference, reuse the things that already exist. Anyway I’m done. I actually don’t care, do what you want.

Refuse to be sidetracked.

So it’s kind of weird, but probably not that weird,  but I am a little addicted to Facebook. It is my biggest distraction in life. And I bet if you thought about it, you are too. I’m on there all the time! whether it's on the computer, on my phone, my Ipad. It’s getting a little out of hand. It is such a loathsome time suck. Or is it? I am able to keep in contact with and participate in the daily lives of people who I would never have kept in touch with otherwise. Not because I didn’t want to keep in touch, but rather I would not have the time. Could you imagine calling all of the people who show up on your daily news feed every day just to ask what’s going on? With Facebook you can do that and that’s a wonderful, community-building thing. But what are the down sides? A study done by Nucleus Research recently found that Facebook cuts worker productivity by 1.5%. A similar study conducted by Ohio State University that claims that students who regularly use Facebook have a GPA of between 3.0 and 3.5. While those who don’t use Facebook (and subsequently study more) have an average GPA of 3.5 to 4.0. So Facebook is making us less productive and more dumb. But is the “lasting friendship” trade off worth it? I aim to do a little life experiment to find out. I like the idea of life experiments. I first heard about the concept from Erik Kennedy’s guest post on “The Art of Manliness” blog. The basic premise is simple. If there is something that you think needs to be changed, change it! And then see what happens. Or in Mr. Kennedy's words;

1. Think of a way in which you might live a better, happier life
2. Do that thing — at least for a short time
3. Reflect on what you learned and change your behavior accordingly

You may find that you don’t like the change and that’s ok. But you may find that you have changed your life forever, and that is priceless. So here is my first experiment. No Facebook for a week. It’s as simple as that.