Short Story – Shorten Up Ricky

“Oksana asked me what Haka meant,” said Oddie, “So I gave her my best version of it.”

On his first day Ricky had seen the word in black marker on the back of Oddie’s hard hat but figured it was his last name or something. That was when he hadn’t asked questions because he feared it would only have shown how little he knew.

“What is Haka?” asked Ricky.

“It’s the warrior dance the All Blacks do before each game.”

“Who are the All Blacks?”

“New Zealand’s national rugby team. Watch this,” says Oddie as he stands right in front of Ricky and starts slapping his forearms as he squats and shouts with his tongue out.

“What the fuck … are you two love birds talking about now?” asked Gerry the supervisor out of breath.

“Nothin,” said Ricky.

“What in the world could possibly motivate you to get out of your truck and climb that ladder?” said Oddie.

“Sandoval is coming later today,” said Gerry, feeling awkward talking about the boss to the boss’s son. “He hates a messy job site and he will yell at me saying the minister of labour is just around the corner …”

“The Minister?” said Oddie.

“Yes the fn’ Minister of Labour is comin down here to find us,” said Gerry.

“Fine us,” said Ricky, the boss’s derelict son.

“Fine,” said Gerry.

“Ok we’ll clean up your job site Gerr Bear,” said Oddie.

“Now,” said Gerry.

Sandoval got his start in Quebec 30 years ago renovating apartments when the tenants moved out so the owners could jack up the rent. To avoid the unions in Quebec he brought his guys to Ontario. Two of his best men, Rejean and Frederick, were machines 20 years ago. They had forgotten more about how to build a house than these young guns would ever know. Frederick became a supervisor years ago but Rejean had framed himself into a corner. He told himself he couldn’t do anything else.

“Tabernac, Jerrie. Kick doze feckin punks inta gear.” said Rejean.

“Relax, Jean. I got em cleanin up the job site. Nothin you need to sweat your little French balls about,” said Gerry.

Gerry found himself squeezed between this wrinkled and weary red seal swearing at him in French and these newbie cowboys knocking in nails as they gabbed about energy. Oddie could see Gerry stressing because he didn’t have skills to get the team to work together. Oddie loved sitting back and watching Gerry squirm.

Strapping on their tool belts after tidying up the job site, Oddie wondered,

‘Why is it that some people are just so easy to make fun of?’

“Ok Gerry-atric,’ Oddie yelled down to Gerry, “Looks real cute your job site.”

“If by cute you mean tidy then get back to building my fuckin house,” said Gerry.

“He’s not coming,” said Ricky.

It took Oddie a few seconds to realize that Ricky was referring to his dad; the boss, Sandoval. Ricky obviously had the inside scoop. Oddie inched a 2 by 4 stud until it was on centre with slow taps of the side of his hammer trying to think of something to ask.

“It’s Tuesday. We won’t see him till Thursday. Chill,” said Ricky. Seeing Gerry leaning on his truck, checking his phone and pulling on his e-cigarette he said “It’s like watching a rat in a lab experiment.”

“Bro, who are you tryin to kid. Ya gotta shorten up on the handle so it will be easier to get the nail in the middle of the block. Shorten up,” repeats Oddie. “You never played baseball as a kid?”

Ricky purses his lips.

“Fuck,” said Oddie. “Gimme that thing. With all your money you couldn’t get yourself a real hammer. Who made this thing? Fischer-Price? Watch me; it’s like this.” Oddie shows Ricky and Ricky gets the hang of it.

“That’s better. Now you only look like a spaztic rookie instead of a complete moron,” said Oddie.

Oddie does anything complicated and Ricky works around Oddie. Oddie is the only one who isn’t afraid to whip Ricky into shape:

“Ricky don’t be picky – grab a couple of those lovely 2 by 4’s and let’s frame the shit outta this wall.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph Ricky. That’s not how I taught you to put in the blocking. You’re makin me look bad.”

“Ricky, you don’t have to advertise you’re a rookie. We already know.”

Ricky was still slick; hair coiffed down to the nanometre. But now his boots were nicked and scuffed; the leather on his tool belt was softening up and wrinkling. His posture was strong; his gait potent.

“Who is Oshkania again?” asked Ricky.

“Oksana. She’s Tali’s girlfriend. He says she’s his fiance but I haven’t seen any rings yet. Anyway, Saturday morning she has a Zoom call about intention. with this group of people all over the world who are into well-being. You know, healthy living. What they do is they take turns sending each other good vibes. And apparently it cures people of diseases and other shit,” Oddie loved having an audience.

“Whaddya mean intention?”

“Intention. It’s something you want. Something you want to happen. Something you want to be in the world,” said Oddie.

“What have they cured?”

“I think she said cancer but I find that hard to believe.”

“Cancer?! What… what’s her group called,” asked Ricky. Oddie feigned needing to pick up a block and looked over at Ricky who, for the first time, was radiating confidence. And purpose.

“I don’t know bro. But I’ll get that for ya,” said Oddie.

Oddie can see Ricky is just here till the waters calm between him and his family and he will move on to whatever project his father’s money can finance. In the meantime Oddie is a whole golf bag of services to the little prince; Oddie is the 3 wood of focus; the 7 iron of curiosity; the sand wedge of problem solving; the pitching wedge of nuance; the putter of belief.

“Where’s Reggie?” asked Ricky.

“You know you came along just in the nick of time. Reggie’s knees went a few years ago. Now his wrists are so shot to shit he really shouldn’t even be working. He has to take a couple of days off sometimes. So that would mean I would have to work with Rejean over there. You saved me from a long slow death.”

“What’s wrong with working with him?” asked Ricky reeling with the realization that his privileged upbringing was financed on the backs of these guys.

“I dunno. It’s just that he is so out of touch and out of shape,” said Oddie, hiking up his jeans.

Oddie could feel he was getting soft because everyday after work he would step up into Ricky’s Rubicon after putting his lunch cooler on the back seat. Now Ricky gives him a lift home when at first it used to be just to the subway.

At the traffic light a woman in cat eye sunglasses pulled up beside them in a yellow Jeep Wrangler. Ricky gave a casual three finger Jeep wave; she waved back. Oddie pushed his sunglasses down his nose to get a better look.

“Bro ….” Oddie loved this.

The yellow Jeep sped ahead while Ricky shifted into second on his own time.

“What kind of name is Oddie anyway?”

—

Shorten Up Ricky is from the Short Story Series – Tool by Kevin McNamara

Short Story – Your Bro Moe

“What the hell?” said Moe under his breath as the mall bench shook. He was ready to kick into survival gear thinking it might be an earthquake.

The guy on Moe’s left glanced at him; at his phone and back at Moe.

Realizing what happened Alex said, “Bro. Sorry.” Alex showed his cell phone screen to his bench neighbour. “I just couldn’t help it. Robin Williams man. He is crazy funny,” said Alex explaining how when he laughed so much he made their bench shake.

“Comedy. That’s some of the best therapy there is,” said Moe

“Amen to that bro,” agreed Alex.

“Oh, boy! Hnhn,” Moe laughed despite himself.

Alex had asked him why he was sitting on a mall bench waiting for his wife to appear laden with shopping bags.

“When my wife found out I had a second Instagram account she freaked. So here I am paying for it.”

“How’d she find out?” asked Alex.

‘My 6 year old daughter has a friend whose dad followed one of the accounts I followed and somehow the 2 girls outed their dads.”

“What happened to the other guy?”

“Dunno.”

They both swallowed the loneliness of being in a place with thousands of people yet feeling alone. Seeking community Alex asked;

“What’s all the fuss about shopping anyway?”

“I hate shopping,” said Moe as the elevator music played Dua Lipa.

“What is it about shopping malls; they just suck the energy right out of me?”

Ya, I know what you mean.”

“Usually I can swing it so I only have to drop them off and pick them up,” said Alex.

“I look forward to that day.”

“Hey man, I’m Moe.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex.”

After their fist bump it felt weird to meet someone when you are sitting down.

“What do you do for a living Alex?”

“I’m a carpenter. I’m up for my red seal in a few months. How about you?”

“I’m in sales for a loading dock systems company,” said Moe.

“Very cool.”

“It keeps me outta trouble.”

“So do you do any of those huge Amazon distribution centres?” asked Alex.

“Ya,” paused Moe, breathing life into the doubt that blocked the sun out of his life. “I put in a bid a few months ago and they should be deciding. Any day now.”

In life there are beautiful pauses. Like, just before he says, ‘Will you marry me?’ as he is on one knee outside the restaurant. This pause wasn’t beautiful; it felt like it was filled with itchy scratchy fibreglass insulation.

“How did you get into dock systems?” asked Alex.

“I hurt my back framing and couldn’t do physical work anymore.”

“You didn’t want to continue in construction?”

“You know I did but my wife kiboshed that,” said Moe.

“Hmm,” Alex looked at the shiny floor between his boots.

“Ya, I know. Sounds pathetic,” said Moe.

“I didn’t say …”

“She was right.”

“What …?”

“Carrie, my wife, said, I can remember it vividly. She was standing sideways at the stove. She moved the chicken in the frying pan with the wooden spoon and said,” remembered Moe. “You have two tasks: the first is to get off the painkillers. The second is to get a job that pays.”

“Shit,” said Alex looking at the floor and then at Moe who was looking up at the ceiling.

“She was right. Again. I had been shafted too many times by general contractors. And I was hooked on codeine”

“So, whadya do?” said Alex.

“I got the pills from my truck, under my shirts in the bottom dresser drawer and the bathroom and poured them all down the kitchen sink as Carrie watched me. Then, I turned on the fan over the stove as she cooked the chicken and gave her a kiss.”

“Bro.”

“Sorry man. I shouldn’t have vomited my crazy life story. You’re gonna think I’m a…,”

“I can think for myself,’ said Alex. “So you stayed off the painkillers?”

“Ya know I did. I have.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Like 5 years. Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” said Moe. “But ya know what I miss the most? Talking smack on the job site. And the smells, believe it or not.”

You mean the sweet smell when you saw a piece a lumber. Or the porta potty?” asked Alex.

“Ya right! Nothing like the fragrance of a portapotty that has been on the site for a week baking in the August heat,” joked Moe. “But with two young children ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”

“I hear ya bro,” said Alex.

“So how long till you get your Red Seal?”

“By the end of the year I’d say.”

“Cool. What keeps you motivated to keep going?” asked Moe.

Alex was getting a little weirded out by how quickly Moe could get so personal.

“Same as you. Family,” said Alex.

“But what’s in it for you?”

“I love my family bro. It gives me satisfaction to provide for them” said Alex

“I believe you 100 percent. The thing is your life can pass you by and you didn’t live it.”

Moe had touched a nerve in Alex.

“Ya know who you remind me of bro?” said Alex detouring the conversation.

“Who?” said Moe.

The sailor in that poem Ancient Mariner.”

“I thought you were gonna say someone like Mike Holmes. Who the fuck is the ancient mariner?”

“He’s the wrinkled old man who stops the young people arriving at a wedding. He needs to tell them his story. Check it out,” said Alex.

“I’ll Google it,” said Moe. “But that’s a bit of a weird reference,” he said as he was used to a different reaction to his desire to help.

“Hey man, it was grade 11 English class. Mrs. Downs. Great teacher,” said Alex.

“Nice to meet bro, take care,’ said Alex as Moe saw his wife come out of the store with children and shopping bags. ‘You’re a bit of a weird random guy I talked to in the mall’ thought Alex as he watched Moe walk away.

Alex had related the conversation with Moe to Rebecca, his wife, as they were on the drive home from the mall. As he was merging onto the highway Rebecca asked him,

“So. Is your life passing you by?”

Short Story – Jerry Rig

“Ok guys, another session of Hot or Trot. You first Andy,” said Matt.

“OK, give me a second …Gigi Hadid or Scarlet Johansen?”

“All blondes! I like it bro. Gigi obviously. She’s a sultry minx,” said Matt.

“I agree,” said Hector. Matt didn’t trust Hector. Matt didn’t know why yet. Hector knew why he didn’t like Matt.

“Ok Sally,” said Matt using the nickname for Hector he takes from the fact he Hector was born in El Salvador. Nobody else uses it. “Your turn.”

“Selma Hayek or Eiza Gonzalez?”

“Hector and his smokin hot Latinas. Cheers,” said Andy.

“Who the hell is Aisha Gonzalvez?” asked Matt.

“It’s Eiza Gonzalez, you uncultured hack.”

Without hesitating Matt launches an immature missile back at Hector, “You know what the problem with …”

“Hey, Isn’t that the new guy right there,” squints Andy.

“Who?”

“Across the street. The guy who just came out of the fast cash place.”

The three of them look across the street and drink from their pint glass.

“Yup,” said Matt. “That’s him. He’s the guy prancing around in those Carhart overalls he doesn’t need. There he goes into that coin laundry place. Bubbles.”

“Cute name,” says Hector.

“Hector. Since when the fuck did you say something was cute?” asked Andy.

Matt, Andy and Hector were enjoying Friday afternoon beers on a patio picnic table. Monday to Thursday they worked hardscaping projects 12-14 hour days so Friday Fields, the boss, could leave the city early to beat traffic getting to his cottage north of the city.

Though they make decent coin, they do not have cottage bound incomes so they find a friendly patio and flirt like idiots with the waitress: Andy loves her perfume, Hector her eyes and Matt her boobs; all of them mentally promising a huge tip so they earn her wink as they leave. Today they were happy bread to the toaster of 4:30 pm June sun. That Tom Cochrane tune was finishing.

“Jerry,” blurts Andy.

“Bless you.”

“Jerry? Quien chingados es Jerry?” asked Hector.

“That’s the name of the new guy.”

“My man Jerry. He’s alright,” says Matt, wanting to be drunk.

“Listen guys …” Andy grabs his phone and puts a twenty on the table.

“No bro, not again.”

“Gotta go guys,” said Andy.

“But we just ordered our second pitcher.”

“I’d love to, but duty calls”

“Ya I know. I get that call all the time and I just send it to voicemail. Deal with it when I get home.”

“Not this time …,” hesitates Andy in a way that disarms all their ridicule.

“Whatever bro,” said Matt. “See ya Monday.”

Fridays are for grabbing a beer on a patio so, instead of driving to work, Andy rides the bus in the morning. Post patio Andy loves looking out the window at the scenery from the back of the Uber and disconnecting.

As the Uber waits at the light, Andy sees Jerry, the new guy coming out of the coin laundry, walking past the fast Cash place and going into the 2 for 1 pizza place. It’s pretty good pizza. But all they do is cut a regular piece into two pieces. Voilà: 2 for the price of 1!

Monday morning they couldn’t find the key to the Bobcat.

“Who the fuck has the key to the fuckin Bobcat?”

“Try Fab fuckin Fields.”

“He probably took the key Friday because he feared in a neighbourhood of homes averaging $4 million someone would steal his heavy machinery over the weekend just for kicks.”

“If he arrives and we haven’t done jack shit he’s gonna fuckin lose it.”

“Mother fucker. Start offloading the interlock up to the top of the driveway.” Fields was on his way. Driving south from cottage country he saw the calls on his Bluetooth but didn’t answer on purpose.

Using the wheelbarrow they were getting it done as if they had all just converted to being Amish. Having pulled back a bit the chiffon floor to ceiling curtains in the living room, Mrs Moosavi was observing the chaos outside her home.

“Mother fucker! Start offloading the interlock up to the top of the driveway.”

“Fuckin fields does this on purpose to reduce us to fuckin manual labour so he can justify not paying us more. He is the master of ‘an accident – on purpose’.”

“It’s brilliant and sociopathic.”

“You think that is an exaggeration but you have to see that he sets himself up to be the hero.”

“Relax. All I know is my paycheck arrives on time every two weeks. Baboom.”

Seeing that the two summer hires were setting the lines and had a handle on the task at hand Hector leaned on his rake.

“Andy, hermano, how’s your wife?” Hector loves strategically dropping Spanish into his conversation.

“What? Oh Ya she’s doin alright. Thanks for asking.”

Hector was fishing for gossip because Andy didn’t usually offer up to much info about his family like the other guys did.

It worked.

Andy hesitated “My wife has serious menstrual cramps. They just knock her right out. So I can’t just sit there Friday afternoon at a bar drinkin beer while she has to get up and feed the kids dinner and keep them from destroying the place.”

“Wow. That’s brutal.”

“For her, ya. But Xochi must have to deal with that too,” said Andy.

“Ya. She and her sister, apparently their cycles are synched or something so they just talk on the phone. I bring home chocolate and ice cream and she seems to get through it.”

“Hey guys, did you need anything?” asked Jerry encroaching on the supervisor bubble.

“Ya. A medium double double and a French cruller,” said Hector.

“Ignore that ridiculous, brown gnome,” said Andy.

“Thank you brother Andy. Now. Jerry, when the Guiness Book of World Records comes searching for the smallest Canadian penis in the history of Canadian penises – you just point them in Andy’s direction, will ya?” said Hector.

—

“Jerry-rig it for the moment brother.”

Not a chance! Get the fuckin come-along,” said Matt.

They needed to hold the 40 foot white pine back at the side of the house to get the Bobcat into the backyard so they could resurface the pool area. Since the client couldn’t peek out from the window to see what they were doing two of the crew said fuck it just yank on the tree and if it returns to its original position great; if not then Fields and his insurance can deal with it and yell at him later.

The three including Matt said no. Either they said no because it was a lazy solution to a small problem. Or they simply feared Fields’ rath once the customer complains.

“What he meant was to get Jerry to hold it. He’s standing right behind you.”

“Ok Jerry. If you’re the arborist in the family, what do you think?”

“I can make it happen. We just need a couple boards and the hand saw and we will wedge the space open. Also the ten foot ladder,” said Jerry.

“Ok, Jerry. Make it happen. We’re gonna take lunch and need this ready when we come back. Capiche?” said Matt who today was driving the Bobcat.

Driving to Tim Horton’s with nouveau riche mansions on either side there was a Filipino nanny wheeling a stroller and walking a schnauzer. In this neighbourhood because nobody who actually owned a house walked on the street there were no sidewalks. So the babies and their nanny’s walk in traffic.

“You know my neighbour got a ticket for not pickin up his dog’s shit”

“My neighbour was telling me he got a fine for not putting his dog on a leash. Then he went on this rant saying that he was going to submit a proposal to Elon Musk.” Matt told the story:

“You know what Elon Musk should do. He should program his Nueralink chip to…

What is the fuck is a Neurolink chip my other neighboour asks.

Neuralink. I corrected the guy. You haven’t heard of this? It’s another one of his big ideas to insert silicon chips into people’s heads to monitor their thoughts and help people with diseases like MS to be able to move because they think it, the first neighbours says.

So it can listen to your thoughts and do what you want. That sounds cool I said

Ya but the government is gonna want to listen to those thoughts too. You know it’s only a matter of time said another neighbour as we stood there watching our dogs play in the dog park. Anyway, back to my idea. Have the chip geo identify with your home and then have posts, kinda like charging stations, at various points, like in parks around your municipality that you have to get within say 3 metres of every so many days. Basically making you exercise – he says.” said Matt.

What if you have a broken leg – does the chip know that? And you can’t make it.

“No you have to go,” Matt whips out his sarcasm.

“Ya, even when the snow is 2 feet deep.”

“What’s the point?”

“He is saying, my neighbour, that why penalise the people who actually are out there with their dogs getting fresh air and exercise. Make the lazy twinkies get off their couches and take their beer belly for a walk to the park at least once a week.”

“And if they don’t?”

“And if they don’t then he says there is an automatic fine of like $15- 20 bucks,” said Matt.

“Holy shit!” and they all laugh like the time Hector told them he was thinking of importing exotic birds from El Salvador.

“Big Brother doesn’t need our help.”

“We need to shut your neighbour up!” said Hector.

“Shut im up or shut im down!”

“Ya he is a bit of a nut job,” said Matt

“Ya think?!”

___

Jerry Rig is from the Short Story Series Tool by Kevin Mcnamara

Short Story – Odd Man Out

“I’m gonna start my own home services company,” declares Oddie as he and Reggie load the morning batch of 2×4’s onto the forks of the loader to lift them up to the second floor to start framing up there.

8 am on a chilly September morning, the summer heat has peaked and subsided.

Oddie imagines he is an angelic combination between Chris Rock and Lenny Kravtiz; funny and suave. If you saw him you would probably think he looked more like a cross of Kevin Hart and Danny Devito; short and obtuse.

Reggie, the ragged yet loyal employee, smirks out loud and pauses to straighten his back for a moment,

“Right you are.” The clean Spruce fragrance was a weird source of Reggie’s optimism over the years.

Oddie stands for Odd Man Out which is the lengthy nickname the forming crew gave him in his first week. They just had to look at him: his boots were too skinny, his hard hat was on crooked, his face was puzzled. He just looked odd. But he was quick on the job site.

“That’s right.”

“What’s your company called?

“I don’t know yet. It’s a service that connects the trusty handyman with homeowners needing odd jobs.” said Oddie as if it already existed.

“Right,” repeats a smug Reggie and turns to grab an armful of lumber.

“What now?!”

Reggie loved yankin this guy’s chain. He gets so hot under the collar at the blink of an eye. With his grey gloves he touched his left index finger to his right baby finger and started counting,

“First of all, you do know there are like at least 5 of those apps out there that provide those services and seconofall they have like, just a little bit of a head start on you. Third they have millions in financial backing and…”

“And what?”

And .. they aren’t you.”

“Meaning what?”

Reggie straightens up again and looks Oddie directly in the eyes and says nothing.

“Fuck you!” says Oddie.

“Right.”

“I don’t care what you think.” Declares Oddie.

“You don’t want to care but you do,” Reggie exhibits his clarity of mind as he straps on his tool belt..

“Fuck you, get to work,” Oddie orders Reggie

“Get to work, Fuck you”

“Be original”

“Hey Reggie, Gerry the site supervisor yelled from ground level, “Ya gotta sec?”

Reggie undid his tool belt saying under his breath “What the hell does this dipshit want now?”

Gerry was squinting up at Oddie framing in a door as Reggie got down there. Gerry starts speaking to Reggie while still looking up at the second floor.

“You have to be weird and know it to get a nickname like Odd Man Out and live with it.

And that the shoe fits says everything.”

“He loves it.” said Reggie staring at the side of Gerry’s ugly head. “We gave him a back door to being part of a team of foul mouthed framers and he took it,”

“Are you a fucking psychologist?”

“The guy needs what you need. He is shit at how to get it. About the same as you are at dropping in a plumb door header. That’s why they made you supervisor,” said Reggie.

As soon as Reggie heard Gerry say “Listen Reg.” His bullshit detector went off.

“I gotta bit of a situation. Sandoval’s son needs a job and the office threw it in my lap. You worked with him before, right?”

“That pip squeak would carry the same 2×4 from one end of the job site and hide on his phone for 30 minutes. Then carry the same 2×4 to the other side and do the same thing all over again.”

“Ya well he got in some kind of trouble. It’s either cars or drugs. Maybe both. Anyway the message from Sandoval is to keep him busy so they know someone is keeping an eye on him,” then Gerry laughs as he reads the text message he received from the office this morning. “So he learns the value of work.” Gerry looked to his right for confirmation from Reggie but didn’t get it.

A wave of humility and appreciation ran through Reggie. He realised what he already knew: that Rhonda, his wife, was his hero. She had been super strict with their son and daughter and that is why Cherise their daughter was on academic scholarship at McMaster University and their son Malcolm was in grade 10 following in her footsteps.

“He’s not the only one …”

“What’s that supposed to mean”

“Nothin”

“What can that miserable little shit do here without fucking up my job site.”

“Nothin.”

“Ya I know,” agreed Gerry. “Wait. Let’s put em with good ol Oddie.”

“Let’s not.”

Gerry pulled a purple e-cigarette from his inside jacket pocket and hauled on it.

“Oddie and I have a decent rhythm if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Listen Reg …” Hearing that phrase again Reggie just turned to walk away. “He starts tomorrow,” Gerry yelled at Reggie’s back.

Ricky parked his 2022 metallic blue Jeep Rubicon beside the portapotty at 7:45 because he was afraid that his dad would take away the Jeep if he was late. His dad was the owner of Sandoval Developments. If the forming crew thought that Oddie looked out of place, Ricky looked like he was modelling for the Home Depot website. Everything he wore was functional, just like Oddie and Reggie.

But the function for Ricky was to look good. New construction boots, tight hi-viz black sweatshirt with silver and yellow reflectors, shiny black hard hat with a Sandoval decal on the front, fresh yellow leather gloves and tinted safety glasses. He never took his ear buds out. He was instantly labelled Slick Rick. Reggie loved how this clown brought comic relief to his day.

Oddie hated working for $24 per hour for some rich fuck. He hated that the same rich fuck didn’t give a fuck for his own son. He didn’t hold it against Slick Rick. Oddie adopted him like a younger brother even though they were the exact same age.

“Bro, you’re holdin the hammer all wrong,” said Oddie.

“Ricky. What did I tell you about holding the nail between your fingers?”

“Dude, did you even put your level on this stud. From here I can see that the thing isn’t plumb.”

“Wow. Nice. Look at that. Fits perfect. Reggie did you see? Our man Slick Rick is good on the saw.”

“Dude. Look at me.” Oddie schooled limp Rick on the reality of belief in yourself. “Haven’t you realised that they think I am a freak. They have more in common with you than they do with me,” said Oddie even though it wasn’t true. As a young man lost at sea Ricky instinctively grabbed his phone to ground himself cyberspace.

People didn’t understand Oddie’s sense of tribal inclusion. In truth, neither did he. He simply felt like we are all in this together. Oddie had no reason to question because that was who he was. He also knew he needed to accomplish something everyday so he got some satisfaction. He wanted to share this.

Slick Rick was a textbook spoiled brat. A tragic teenager. His parents weren’t on the same page about children, marriage or money. His mom’s love wasn’t going to magically make him into a man. His absentee dad supplied everything but the intangibles.

Sandoval pulled up in a white Mercedes SUV to see how his son was being made into a man. To get out of the vehicle would have been to break the macho archetype he loved more than his son. The back seat tinted window came halfway down. Ricky looked at Oddie, looked at his phone, undid his toolbelt and climbed down to talk to the tinted window.

Reggie and Oddie unabashedly stood at the edge of the second floor watching the father/son debacle.

“For the last 15 or so years Sandoval has shown he doesn’t give a fuck about the well fare of his own son,” said Reggie.

“Dude, we are providing a babysitting service to Richie Rich,” Oddie said to Reggie. “The fuckin father needs to know that.” Reggie looked sideways at Oddie and said,

“You are not going to pity Richie Rich. That’s not gonna pay your bills much less fulfil your crazy dream of your Odd Man app.”

Oddie nodded at Reggie’s name for his odd jobs by a handyman app.

“Ya bro. Or do you want to be in the business of handy jobs?” Reggie laughed at his own joke.

—

Odd Man Out is from the short story series Tool by Kevin McNamara

Phillips: A Short Story from The Tool Series

Where’s Debbie?” asked Tim.

“She went in the house to talk to your mom,” said Oscar Phillips. “Hey, I heard you had a new girlfriend.”

“Yep.”

“Is she coming?”

“No, Trish had to work. She’s a nurse.”

Tim leaned against the workbench and picked at a scab on his index finger. Oscar sat on the chopper with the sparkling silver gas tank. Everyone, including Oscar, knew the theme of this family barbecue was to offer him a hand up as he lurched in the quicksand of depression. The radio effortlessly played classic rock; Spirit of the West ushered in the moment. Spirit Of The West “Home For A Rest” – Official Music Video

“So, did Debbie bring home any boyfriends. To do the meet-the-parents thing?” asked Oscar instantly regretting using air quotes.

“I remember one guy. He was really smart, tall and polite. Debbie was still in college but he was working a full time job. He had a pick up. My Mom didn’t like him. Dad did.” Oscar straightened his back and bent his neck to crack it. Oscar feared Tim’s dad Stan.

“Debbie is like, 10 years older than you?” said Oscar.

“Yes, 10 years and 8 months apart. In school Debbie always had a part time job. I saw her on weekends. Kind of like visitation rights with your own sister while living in the same house. Basically we grew up in two different families with the same parents. Debbie was before the accident.”

“Right,” said Oscar.

“She wasn’t perfect or anything but she didn’t cause my parents so many headaches like me. We never really had any big brother-sister fights. Never lit the kitchen on fire heating the pizza box in the oven or anything like that”

“Right,” said Oscar.

His shoulders deflated in a whatever surrender. Depression is usurping his mojo. It’s a pesky grinding of his tectonic plates causing landslides of conflict between him and Debbie.

Tim took in the Oscar’s theatre in response to his question.

“What the fuck do you want me to do,” Oscar imitates an exasperated Debbie.

Then nodding to Tim. “And you know Debbie never swears.”

“So …?”

“So what?”

“So bro,what … do you want Debbie … to do?” asks Tim.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” Oscar throws his arms open. “So how the fuck can I tell her what to do?”

“Dude. Fake it till you make it. Ya know, tell ‘em you wanna buy a house. Or have children. Or to go for that promotion.”

“What promotion?” Oscar needed to know.

“I am making it up. It doesn’t fuckin matter. They just need to hear that you are the man. They need you to make them feel they made the right decision bro.”

Tim and Oscar nodded as they sipped their beers.

“Sorry man,” Tim tried to redirect the heavy silence that was weighing them down, “I’m just tryin to help.”

‘This family therapy gig is getting old quick,’ Tim thought during yet another awkward pause. Oscar kept himself busy by thinking, ‘I just need to keep the conversation going.’ But he couldn’t find anything to say so the bottom fell out of the conversation again. Tim turned around to face the workbench and grabbed a long, red handled Phillips screwdriver. He spun it in the air, caught it and turned back and looked at Oscar.

“Look bro ….”

Oscar looked at him.

“It has everything to do with you and nothing to do with you all at the same time,” Tim pointed the red screwdriver handle at Oscar.

As Oscar’s soul mined him for traction, he heard his instinct, ‘Reflect.’

Like a witch Tim says,

“Listen bro, you just need to reflect on, you know, the situation. But, you have to fuckin swear you will not sit there and stew in your own regret. You cannot, cannot mire yourself in your own, you know, bullshit.”

Like the open garage door, Oscar gaped. Tim was proud of how he used the word mired. He had never used it before.

“Dude, I can see why Debbie is so frustrated. Your mojo, your fuckin chi!” Tim extended his neck at Oscar, “Has been sucked out of you like you were a cherry freezie on a hot summer day. Know what I mean?”

“If I don’t, Debbie does. And she isn’t shy about telling me. Daily,” said Oscar.

“Is she right, daily?”

“Is this a yes or no question?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. I mean, sure we had all those immature marital squabbles cuz our parents didn’t orient us about marriage. I know now that’s nothing personal. But now we are a fuckin tsunami of feces even before we wake up. We don’t talk, we argue. We don’t speak, we yell. We don’t love, we dread. It’s real. It’s horrible. I want to fix it,” said Oscar with the humility of a porcupine before a gale force wind. His own words stood him up from the motorbike. Tim was impressed. Oscar looked at himself standing as if he just woke from a dream. He sat back on the motorbike.

Bobcageon by The Tragically Hip reminded the radio of younger times.

Oscar and Debbie lived in a condo downtown Toronto. Having recoiled from most of their relationships, Oscar squats at home all day coding; becoming paler, losing valuable hair and gaining stupid pounds so he can be a better punching bag for depression.

His man cave was either: early morning concrete coffee cross legged on the 5 x 10 balcony overlooking the Gardiner Expressway or: seated on the ground in a clutch of red pine trees in the lakeside park across the street from the condo. In other days, these ‘encuentros’ would have provided better dividends.

The garage was Stan’s man cave. Storage boxes stuffed with sentimental anchors among aged yard equipment collected on his shelving unit. He was a salesman for Global Racking Systems. One day a client wouldn’t pay for one of Stan’s sales, so the install team took back all the racking and put it in his garage.

Tim had never seen his dad in work mode. Stan started out really appreciative of the install team bringing it over and installing the racks. Then in the flip of switch he was really bossy when it came to the installation. Then he gave the guys pizza and beers. It was fun for Tim to observe others caught in his dad’s passive/aggressive jousting.

Tim shuffled his feet on the gritty garage floor painted slate grey, looked back at the racking and realized he was proud of his dad. He decided he would ask his dad about how to invest in a house.

The earthy air of the garage buoyed Oscar from falling deeper into the abyss of depression. There was a hint of oily rags coming from the corner. The ceiling was high enough and the garage wide enough so you didn’t sense you were missing out on the day when you were inside the garage.

“Lemme see that thing, said Oscar reach for Tim to pass him the red handled screwdriver

“This thing is probably older than you,” Tim said.

Oscar exhaled laughter, “You know I am actually named after this fuckin thing.”

“Get outta town.”

“Ya. My dad is a total tool geek and he insisted my name be Henry Phillips – the guy who patented the cross screwdriver. He didn’t tell my mom until after I was born. I’m pretty sure that is why they got divorced.”

“What?!”

“Well not exactly, but it couldn’t have fuckin helped. Anyway, I was like three. My mom made sure from then on everyone used my middle name.

“Oscar,” Tim said.

“Nice to meet ya,” Oscar raised his empty beer bottle and they both laughed. Tim wanted to get them another beer but feared breaking the moment by going to the kitchen.

“Guys.” Stan opened the door connecting the garage to the laundry room with his left hand and held up his right hand carrying two green bottles of beer. “Do I have any customers?”

Oscar jumped to his feet.

“Right on. Perfect timing dad.”

“Where’s your beer Stan?” Oscar asked.

“Back at the barbecue. Burgers are gonna be ready in 5 minutes,” Stan said, closing the door.

“Thanks dad,” Stan loved hearing those words. They ferried beautiful meaning.

“Nice and cold, thanks Stan,” said Oscar as he grabbed a metal scraper with a wood handle from the workbench and popped the bottle caps off.

“Boys, dinners on the table,” Tim’s mom chirped and then she knocked on the door. Tim and Oscar chuckled at the backward sequence of it.

ar Oscar imagined that the granite boulder of depression weighing on his shoulders was crumbling into shiny grains of crystalline red, black and silver sand that fell off his back spilling around his feet.

—- Phillips is part of the Short Story Series called Tool by Kevin McNamara

A Poor Excuse for Real Initiation

To highlight the reality of the ongoing stupidity of hazings that still occur in university fraternities and sororities there is a new TV program just released.

https://www.oxygen.com/true-crime-buzz/from-timothy-piazza-to-jordan-hankins-real-hazing-deaths

Dying to Belong is the name of the program. And it hits the nail on the head. We all want to belong but humiliating people and endangering their lives to generate a sense of exclusivity is juvenile.

Hazing is defined as the imposition of strenuous, often humiliating, tasks as part of a program of rigorous physical training and initiation. So the greater the humiliation then the club you are being initiated into should be that much more exclusive. Or provide a transcendent feeling of belonging. I am not sure that university frats get to that level of, well fraternity. Basically it is supposed to earn you a loyalty towards you when you need it. And your loyalty to your fraternity will be asked for when it is needed. In the meantime you have the status of saying you belong to this or that frat.

The thing is people die in these hazings that new recruits or pledges are submitted to. Why? Why does it have to dip to a level of life threatening humiliation?

To belong to the Jeep driver’s club all you need is to make a down payment of a few thousand dollars to buy your Jeep Wrangler and then keep up with your monthly payments. And as a result every time another Jeep drives in the opposite direction you get a cool and subtle wave as you drive by each other in your Jeeps. It’s silly. But it provides a sense of inclusion/acceptance/belonging in and among all the random traffic. And it is warming not demoralizing. It is simple not nefarious.

Initiation is the process of crossing the threshold into the next stage of life. And in some cultures they can be extremely demanding rite of passage like a vision quest. Or it can be a celebration like a bar mitzvah.

The idea of initiation is to create a mark that a person is entering into a new possibility in their life. Witness it. Make the ceremony and the person being initiated important. Generate in them the concept of upholding their dignity as they pass from child to young adult; or from adult to elder. So when we cross the threshold of death, from elder to ether, we have had practice knowing how to cross into the next realm and what is of value there.

While initiation helps the same person elevate in their development trajectory a distinct aspect of their life is being accessed in this new platform for life that encourages curiosity and perception.

If you are not religious then recognition of the next life stage might not be so ceremonious. It can be conversations to show appreciation of the person for what they have become up to now based on their challenges and opportunities. Appreciation coupled with respect for their version of responsibility as they grow. Reminding them to harvest from their past the milestones won by the vigour of their youth. Merging these lessons with the awareness being petitioned of each person to grow into the unknown.

Unveiling :: Thoughts of aging have you tied in knots? — STEPHANIE NOBLE

Are you afraid of aging or is something else involved? A rich exploration into aging well.
Unveiling :: Thoughts of aging have you tied in knots? — STEPHANIE NOBLE

What We See In The Woods — Shuckleigh Chronicles

Halloween in the haunted wood
What We See In The Woods — Shuckleigh Chronicles

The New You Series – Advice – Guidance and Wisdom

There is a well known adage that perhaps was coined by Confucoius or is alluded to in the Bible. Either way it goes like this:

‘Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime.’

It would appear to hold true. This is very much the Rich Dad/Poor Dad juxtaposition.

Perhaps, in hindsight, there is a line missing:

Forget to demand respect for the planet from the man and he will destroy fish stocks and end up giving his children farmed fish full of chemicals.

Let’s look at the adage through the lens of: Advice, Guidance and Wisdom.

At the level of advice is ‘give a man a fish’

At the level of guidance is ‘teach him to fish’

At the level of wisdom is ‘demand respect, from yourself and others, on behalf of the planet’

Advice

Is for guys

Application is to work life, guy life, ego buoyancy, for not looking stupid, to the now

Forms of Advice – tips, sayings, phrases, guyisms, answers, encouragement

Advice provides timely ideas for someone to make decisions to get results.

Advice for any person, at any age in any stage in life. It is useful to daily life and can stand the test of time.

Provenance – brain

Relevance – bridging the moment with what you want

Guidance

Guidance is for men.

Application – Guidance is a resource for learning to deal with fear, for growing awareness, for understanding others, for facing the future.

Forms of Guidance – story, map, the legend on a map, questions, challenges

Guidance hints at the man you become if you listen to it and let it impact your life

Provenance – heart

Relevance – love, the need to love and be loved

Wisdom

Is for The New You,

Application is for participation in service to something bigger than you, curiosity and reflection

Forms of Wisdom – crystalized, dense yet light in its transmission, mysterious and confusing and settling

Wisdom is the language of the instinct talking about finding meaning and integrating it into life

Provenance – soul

Relevance – magnetizing to the truth and electrifying to action

—

Practice all 3 (Advice – Guidance – Wisdom): Know the difference so advice doesn’t get passed off as guidance; and wisdom doesn’t get reduced to guidance.

Demand advice from your peers, guidance from your parents and wisdom from your elders.

Tidy: Profile of The New You

“Hey”

Turning left out of the restaurant, MJ and I walk south along John Street. I know I hear some running footsteps but, so what. You never know who is asking for something so I put my arm around MJ’s shoulder and keep walking.

“Excuse me”

I look over my shoulder between me and MJ and see this guy waving his hand and running towards us. The guy was wearing black pants, a white shirt and a knee length white apron. It’s our waiter from the restaurant. Maximum 25 years old as he ran with ease towards us.

“Crazy” the waiter says, landing a few slow down steps as he reaches us.

“Look.” He only takes two breaths to speak normally after a 2 block sprint.

“I think the bills stuck together. I don’t think you meant to leave a $40 tip on a $29 tab.” The waiter tentatively offers two twenty dollar bills. The bills were probably just printed and put into circulation. I had just got them out of the bank machine earlier in the day.

“I thought they felt funny.” I say putting my hand out tentatively as the waiter goes about half way.

“Thank you very much.” I extend my appreciation and my hand to receive my overpayment.

“Right on.” Waiter says. There is a brief gap in the moment; and then he spins to jog back to the restaurant. MJ and I look at each other.

“Wow. You don’t see that too often. Someone running 2 blocks to give you money you didn’t know was yours. Actually, in the moment I thought to give him 1 of the twenties.”

MJ says “I could tell you hesitated. You could’ve.”

Standing in the same place, slowly folding the 2 twenties, I look at MJ and declare “That’s honesty”. Feeling proud to have been a part of that street vignette, I almost feel I deserve some of the credit.

MJ holds my gaze for a moment, then she says “That’s tidy.”

—

TIDY

Tidy is living life with minimal loose ends.

Tidy is not military. It is clarity of scope of any intention.

Scope refers to what you are going to do when and how.

How refers to the quality of your work and ‘the 2-stage hand off’.

The first stage of the ‘hand off’ is you receiving from the previous person what you said you needed in order to get started. The second stage is you delivering what you said you would. That way the next person knows what to expect when you are finished with your part. Essentially ensuring the next stage 1 for the next person includes what said they needed to get started.

So if the person before or after you is not tidy, life now has drama that we aren’t paid for.

Being tidy is a reflection of self respect; It is an expression of understanding others and having the arts and skills to be understood.

Tidy is a great way to run your life.

Like someone runs their business.

You do what you say you are going to do.

You make commitments, make a plan and invest in the project. Then people quit, get fired or screw up. So being tidy can be a great hypothetical ideal but the daily reality can make your work anything but tidy. Because someone on your team quit means now you can’t deliver your products on time. So you have to advise others that your delivery is going to change. That’s business. That’s life.

Sometimes there is a pandemic and materials or staff are scarce or expensive and your price changes and the customer isn’t happy or wants to cancel all together. These are some of those changes that fit into the ‘you-can’t-make-this-stuff-up’ category.

So many obstacles can get thrown your way making your work, and life, untidy. You can’t control others. You can manage yourself. Your work is subject to outside influences. When everything is going sideways, that is when you need to insist on being tidy in your mind. Meaning understanding who is responsible, or to blame, but with an eye to moving forward.

The New You Profile is:

The man a young man strives to be;

The gentleman a man can feel he is becoming.

The scope of that gentleman’s life is: deep, expansive, growing, challenging, intriguing.

Intro to Satisfaction – The Book

This book is for tough guys. Like me. Like you. Tough nuts to crack. When we aren’t as good as we want to be at our own emotional display we can get frustrated. Frustration is rarely associated with satisfaction.

The spark of this writing is the belief that a man who is creative in achieving his satisfaction, able to share the successes and let downs of pursuing what he wants, will use his stressful challenges to grow. Life has shown us that when one of us is frustrated in the moment, stressed by life, wayward in his manlife, he can easily lash out. He can be hurtful with insults and beatings.

The purpose of the book is to be a spur for men to access their emotional agility as they strive to get what they want.

A man who knows himself at daily and higher levels will appreciate what he is becoming despite his shortcomings. He will have a sense that there is more to the definition of a man than can be found on the internet.

A constant theme of this book is that we are indeed on a development journey during our whole life. That journey for a man differs from the journey of a woman. Whether or not male and female journeys have converging priorities, understandings or emotions we all want to enlist each man to ‘be his own man’ in the moment.

When a woman wants something different from her man, or wants more from her husband or wants better from her boyfriend it is a good news story. It locates the man in what she seeks. It’s not a strike against you that, as a man, you cannot immediately figure out what she wants. Perhaps it provides her a sense of being valued by knowing she can look to you for man services. So, what kind of man services do you offer? Sexual services, fixing flat tire services, humour, tenderness, encouragement services, mortgage payment services, opening jam jars services, packing the car, parking the car, washing the car, barbecuing …

A man is a good thing. Anyone who feels differently does not have the full story. Or as is often the case, has had more bad man experiences than good. Those damaging experiences are often the result of his lack of belief in himself . This poverty of self-belief contorts the love of those that believe in him as a man. When we can rise above the tyranny of our energy sucking ego we ascend into new thoughts, fresh intentions, rejuvenating conversation … This elevation into realms of value, success and connection makes your man feel like the MVP.

The underlying concept that powers this book is that men have the emotional finesse enabling them to instinctually respond to the Daily challenges and Devotional callings of life.

There are many men in the various communities you participate in that don’t subscribe to the dogma of sexism. They go along with insulting jokes and remarks because they don’t have something stronger they believe in. Or they fear for their job and crave respect as a man’s man. They most likely believe in women; in a deep and beautiful way. However most men don’t get the education they want to become a man of self-respect, love and belief.

There is a lack of readily accessible guidance for men to become the reliable husband that is also the spontaneous guy who is also the nurturing man. There is a paucity of seed pods for him to cultivate the male version of instinct.

Each day all men search for the missing pieces in the life puzzle of career, love and meaning. At the risk of alienating himself from the lowest common denominator of macho manhood there are those that insist on being ambitious, clean and versatile. It takes balls to be a man that resists the mafia of moronic male behaviour.

The guy who strives beyond the poor understanding of women and lack of self knowledge as a man needs your support. Most likely he is energized by sincere love yet doubts his version of a man authentic. He is juggling his professional ambition, the questions for his higher self and his residual anger of youth. He wants to bundle them into a brave vision of him as a man, spouse and gentleman.

This book highlights that we are all capable of and responsible for our own Satisfaction in the ongoing stages of life, evolving relationships and variety of experiences.

Did you see the 2007 movie Ocean’s 13? It’s the third movie in the Ocean’s series of a modern band of thieves. The sudden news of one of their own falling ill from shock of a business deal gone bad id bringing them all together again. About ten minutes into the movie George Clooney as ‘Daniel Ocean’ and Brad Pitt as ‘Rusty’ are just getting off their private jet.

‘It’s not their fight’ Linus, played by Matt Damon had just asked Ocean where Tess and Isabelle were. A seemingly harmless question as they walk across the tarmac. Tess (Julia Roberts) is Ocean’s wife; Isabelle (Catherine Zeta Jones) is the love of Rusty’s life.

Since Linus wants a bit more info he turns to Rusty and asks a little louder above the jet engines. ‘Where are Tess and Isabelle?’

Out of nowhere Ocean explodes on his colleague Linus and repeats with an anvil of force closing the issue, ‘It’s not their fight’.

Ocean is right. A man takes responsibility for his struggle. He doesn’t make it hers. Men are experts at the quiet struggle. Like the earth is coursing with ley lines and the body is strung with energy meridians, men are marionettes to the undercurrents of genuine emotion. The task at hand is to make this struggle less solitary, these emotions more accessible.

For that reason it is to be aware when you need help with your response. Ask for help, accept help. Appreciate the help and love the helper. But never make them responsible for your fight. Your fight is to evolve into you. Become the version of a man that is becoming of you.

Some men who are jacked up: cocky, confident, full of their preconceived idea of their importance to the moment. There are those guys who are understanding, laid back and funny. Of course we all know those guys that are lost, lack confidence and have more things they dread than they look forward to as a man. How could they ‘man up’ in a difficult situation. They don’t have the education, training, or reference to find their mojo.

The degree to which many a man is lost and alienated from a development journey as a soul bearing gentleman can feel bigger than huge, and deeper than bottomless.

The lost man can’t seem to get traction on his passion and skills. That’s part of why it can appear to his wife, a man doesn’t want to be a part of the solution to a withering marriage. His relationship is complicated by him not knowing how to shine his light on the path of their marriage.

One of the core messages this book carries is that men are a creative force, wildly willing to be a part of something good. And they are sincere. Sincerely in need of help to understand themselves, women and relationships.

Move The Words Out Of Your Heart

Photo by christian buehner on Unsplash

Move the words out of your heart – say anything man. Be funny, dumb, endearing, stilted, embarrassing, true and simple. If they stay in your heart they will block your arteries and give you a heart attack.

Say how you feel. Because you want to understand and be understood. Understand what causes you to feel inspired or lost, confident or frustrated. And be understood as you go through the process of using these words to grow.

Find your words for love and vulnerability, of vision and belief.

Practice the words for sorry and appreciation, worry and forgiveness.

Repeat the words that elevate you and are a catalyst for other men.

Move the words out of your heart and into the world so we can all hear and learn:

What the man in you knows …

What the man in you wants …

What the man in you upholds …

The $12 Vacuum

Many a car’s mechanical problems can be related to how often you change the engine oil. The more often you change it the cleaner, the saying goes, it runs. Also it means the mechanic is rooting around under your hood to see or hear if something is wrong. Which not coincidentally generates more business for the garage. If in fact he finds something wrong then you are doing preventative maintenance which is almost always cheaper than repairs. Not only with cars but just about everything else.

Photo by Lukas ter Poorten on Unsplash

Take our vacuum for example. We bought it second hand because my wife’s experience is that you spend a $150 or usually more on a new vacuum and more likely than not it is giving you headaches within 6 months. Funny when I was growing up we had an emerald green Electrolux whose design was inspired by one of the characters in the canteen from the movie Star Wars. The thing lasted easily 15 years. Suction wasn’t great those last few years. That was still in the day of the vacuum bag that filled up and you had to toss. I think the whole thing was designed around selling vacuum bags because they weren’t very big and it was pretty awkward to empty them out and try and re-use.

Now our vacuum looks like son of Electrolux: turquoise with a mini body for the dirt receptacle. Nowadays we just empty out the dirt receptacle and keep going. And that is what the people who dropped it off at the donation centre where we bought it must have done because I fired it up and the smell as atrocious. A warm, old shoe bad smell filled our condo. Neither the previous guys nor the donation centre thought to clean the filter. Nor did I when I bought it:) So the filter got cleaned and boom the vacuum is awesome and is running to this day. I think it cost $12. No bags. No fuss.

I have seen the same thing happen with our sink, the fan above the stove, the drain in the shower: you have to clean out the filter to keep things running smoothly (and without a nasty smell.). The same applies to people. I remember in my early working days I didn’t have much money so I didn’t eat well. It didn’t help that I was single, living on my own with limited cooking experience. My home cooked food consisted of lots of toast and canned soup for dinner. Breakfast was a coffee and donut. Lunch would have included the occasional veggie. Whadaya know? I ended up in the clinic with an obstructed bowel. It was painful. Just knocked me out for a few days with no energy. No other symptoms. The doctor said I needed fibre which translates into leafy greens and colourful fruit. In other words I needed to unclog the drain or change the oil. I needed to clean my filter. Physically.

That has happened to me mentally as well. Where I need to learn a new concept about someone or something. As our two daughters get older I need to understand that I am not their only source of info and entertainment or decision making. I must realize they are moving through stages in life rapidly and I have to update myself at the same pace or risk making myself obsolete. It doesn’t mean letting them do everything they want and talking about every single meme they find on their phone. It just means be agile with my role as their dad.

With my wife I need to listen to her ever changing situation with menopause. I need to be confident in our connection and lovingly efficient in grasping where we are today. It’s not boring. I prefer it to a habitual life that is not challenging. I am not going to hold menopause against my wife – that would be stupid. There is no time or space to be acrimonious. I prefer to love and be loved. Loving the menopausal version of my wife means I need to have a good memory, want her to be healthy, be able to ride the roller coaster again and again without getting off. Woohoo!! Just be there for her. I am tall enough to ride that ride:)

I see it comes to updating what I want and what I believe. I want my wife to be happy. I believe our marriage is working. Some days it works like a Tesla model X – fast and curious. Other days it’s like a 1973 Westphalia camper van – lots of baggage and going pretty slow.

Photo by Vlad Tchompalov on Unsplash

Even Telsas have filters that need maintenance.

I find if I clean up the filter, be it the backlog of things my wife has asked me to do (throw out my good boxes cardboard goes I have piled up) or not to do (fall asleep on the couch) we do pretty well. Being in good physical shape and having some sense of your soul are other self tasks to keep things turning over.

When was the last time you cleaned your filter?

If You Have A Husband

Believe it or not, your husband loves you.

He may not say the words very often. He probably doesn’t think the thought ‘I love my wife’.

However he does love you. For a variety of reasons:

Because of you he is not lonely.

Because of you he has someone to love.

Because of you he is loved.

He is loved for his unique way and despite his defects.

Photo by Ramille Soares on Unsplash

He loves you because loving you keeps him connected to being a man of service, of having an intention every day and a purpose in the big picture. Even though he may lose sight of one or both of those as he engages each stage of life. Being disconnected from you, from a sense of service and purpose impacts the man you love to the marrow. Showing up as being irritable to feeling defeated.

He loves you because you grasp his struggle, how it affects him and how to companion him. You know his struggle is based not in the temporary disorientation he feels but in the knowing that he is authentic and wants to showcase that. Which he does through his confidence, humility and agility. Confidence to show you the man you married, humility before your marriage with an agility to embody the changes it petitions him to make.

Photo by marco barsotti on Unsplash

As you know he needs help expressing his love. Obviously as you know – violence, be it in words, physically, any abuse – is not love. We all know that. No excuses.

Your actual husband that you believe in and whose love you yearn for, seeks opportunities to make you happy. Creates experiences that say ‘I love you’ (He might even say it in words:).

So let’s find the man, highlight the gentleman – feel the love.

re-Purpose

A former manager once dropped into my office and quickly put a gift bag between the wall and my computer terminal. He timed it well so I was busy with someone so he just smiled, nodded and left. It was mid December and so he was receiving lots of Christmas gifts from every direction. I didn’t expect anything from him and I am pretty sure he had no intention of getting me anything. For me the company wasn’t a place I belonged and for him I didn’t solve his problems with his bosses. And then appeared a bottle of scotch in my office in a gift bag lacking the colourful tissue paper. I can’t remember the last time I drank scotch. Which means that I either binge drink it or never drink it. I had never talked about scotch at work. So obviously he was regifting the bottle.

Regifting is a useful practice. Re-gifting means more people get gifts which means more happy people and less consumerism and waste of wrapping paper. It’s logical and heartwarming. It works. I drank the scotch.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Regifting and repurposing could both be seen as changing the direction of the same thing. You can repurpose tires into jewelry, plastic into a fleece pullover, a boyfriend into a husband, an old silver fork into a bracelet, a pop bottle into a flower pot, a stump into a stool and on and on.

Life stages thrust this reality of ‘the new you’ unto us. Our curious child repurposes into a rebellious youth into the sceptical young adult into that focused adult who grows into an elderly sage. In the beautifully painful transition known as death, the sage repurposes into spirit.

Photo by Nourdine Diouane on Unsplash

There is some art to repurposing. Simply said – don’t change too much. Change as much as you have to while staying loyal to what you know is real. What is true about you is the eternal you. This is what anchors the local you through the bumpy transition from one stage to the next. Your eternal you, your higher self, loves to elevate on the journey your soul is opening up for you.