And now I'm glad I didn't knowThe way it all would endThe way it all would goOur lives are better left to chanceI could have missed the painBut I'd have had to miss the dance
--Tony Arata (Performed by Garth Brooks)
And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end
The way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance
--Tony Arata (Performed by Garth Brooks)
My saga of scanning my old photos and negatives continues. And I have to admit that it weirdly takes an emotional toll on me. Each photo reminds me of a time in my life.
Well, duh, but anyway it is weird to think of what consumed me emotionally at different times in my life. The above photo was early in my career when I wore suits to work every day. I wouldn't be caught dead in a suit these days.
I suppose that probably isn't he best way to phrase it considering my age. Not that I plan to be buried in a suit. I don't even plan to be buried. I plan to be cremated. And although I've worn a few suits in my time that should be burned, I'm not sure wearing one for my cremation is necessary.
The strange thing to me about the above photo is that I remember looking like that and how it felt to look like that. I just have a difficult time aligning the photo with how I look now probably forty or so years later. Time is an asshole.
Yeah, yeah, I look like I do now because of choices. I've put on a few pounds, my ears and nose are bigger and my hair is gray. I also have a shaggy beard that I hate to admit is a vain attempt to mask a double chin.
I guess I actually had no choice in having a bigger nose and ears. Or the gray hair. Though I could have solved that early on with dye that would give me that sad Bela Legosi look that too many men my age have adopted.
Bela Legosi was the actor who originally played Dracula for those non-Boomers who wander into my blog. He had jet black hair slicked back with what looked like black shoe polish.
Shoe polish was this stuff that came in paste form in a can or liquid form in a bottle that you put on black shoes to cover up scuffs and make them look like new again. Shinola was a famous brand of shoe polish. It was so popular that it was used to describe a stupid person as "not knowing shit from Shinola."
I hate having to explain what used to be common place in my world especially to generations of people who don't know shit from Shinola.
But back to my narcissistic discussion of photos of me as a young man. I look at the young me face and it is familiar but it still seems like a stranger. The eyes smile. I like that. My eyes don't smile much anymore. It's not that I am not as happy as I was at that age. It's just that weariness sets in and the smiles don't show as much.
Plus, at that age when the photo was taken, I still didn't really know shit from Shinola.
I suppose when most people talk about things they regret in life they are big things like not becoming an artist or traveling to the Great Pyramids or quitting a dead end job. Okay, I regret all of those things, but it is some of the little things I regret more. Or at least I roll my eyes about them.
Until it became politically incorrect to portray cultures as mascots, I was proud of being a Boise High School Brave. I was proud of being the band drum major and dressing like an Native American Chief (or an Indian Chief or an Indigenous person Chief). I used to feel so cool donning the leather buckskins and headdress and applying war paint.
But I remember when I showed my daughter photos of me dressed as the Boise Brave, she was pretty disgusted. I was confused at first. Maybe she didn't understand that to us growing up the brave was a proud symbol. A brave was a warrior. A brave was something to look up to. But to her, I was treating a people as a mascot.
I tried the arguments that have been pointed out to me are white people microaggressions, like "No one objects to the Fighting Irish, Vikings, Cowboys, or Mariners." But those are white people cultures (which is ironic because I'm told quite often white people have no culture). Bottom line, to my daughter at least, being the Boise Brave was embarrassing.
So I tucked away the photos, my old moccasins and any other symbol of my misguided past as a Boise Brave and accepted that in high school my only accomplishment was being a band geek and graduating ninth in my class of 491.
I suppose most people get into genealogy because they want to find where they came from. But I have found that it creates more questions than it answers. There are currently more than 6000 people in my family tree. And I use the term "tree" loosely, because it is more like an upside down tree with these roots that spread out seemingly forever and you keep uncovering them wondering where they end or begin.
The depressing thing is that most of the people you discover in the roots doing genealogy are dead. You don't find out much about the living part of the tree. Privacy laws prevent most of that. So you may find a few names, especially if they are close relatives, but the only ones you really find much about are long dead.
But as I pointed out in my last post, even the stuff you find out about all of your dead relatives is a paper trail of where they began, wandered about and ended up. The internet has made that easier, but also more complicated. I suppose before computers you had to spend your time mucking about in county courthouses and libraries sifting through documents. Now AI does much of that work for you but gives you lots of crap along with substance.
Still, it can be depressing. I have found more than my fair share of people who have been murdered, committed suicide or died way to young. I have also found so many babies and infants that only lasted a few days or weeks. And the staggering number of marriages, divorces and remarriages blow my mind. It adds to the confusion with some people having three or four different last names and children with several different spouses.
Ancestry now also taps into yearbooks and provides photos of many people who no one has bothered to upload images of. It is endearing and sad at the same time. I like those photos so much more than the ones they dig up for obituaries. Obituary photos all seem to be of a weary, worn person staring at the camera with a perplexed look wondering when they got old. At least yearbook photos capture people who still had potential.
I've mentioned before that my roots spread far into the dirt of America. My ancestors were farmers, farm hands, laborers and drifters. There wasn't any blue blood fertilizing those roots. Many served in the military but it seems out of necessity. There are a lot of young men who were drafted and served as Privates and left as Privates. I don't appear to come from a long line of leaders.
I wonder what it is like to be royalty and born into a lineage that is well documented and clear. I am sure none of the Royals bother with Ancestry.com. Ancestry.com seems to be for those of us trying to unstir the melting pot and figure out what the original recipe was.
For the most part I am just left shaking my head wondering what the head cook was thinking.
I wrote a post in September 2009 called, "Remember me." It was the only post I wrote in September 2009. Heck, I only wrote 22 posts the entire year. I think I was preoccupied with my newborn son. Priorities. Anyway, the post (since most of you won't follow the link and read it) was about fame and how it is probably worse to have it and lose it than to never have it at all. I made the pronouncement that if no one recognizes you or knows who you are, you can't be forgotten.
I think that was pretty good.
The reason I bring this up is that I've been doing a lot of work on my family tree on Ancestry.com and tracing the meandering roots of my family into the distant past. And as I uncover brother- and sister-in laws of my second cousin twice removed, I am saddened when there is nothing but census records and city directories to prove that they existed. I hate looking at these faceless squares on my tree.
At the very least, I like to find photos of headstones courtesy of Find a Grave. At least then they have a slab of stone with their name on it to prove they were here. But occasionally I find that some relative has loaded a photo of the person either from when they were young or very old. I like the young versions best. I like looking at those faces on my tree when so much life was ahead of them.
Some of the photos show character. I particularly like this one:
I recently remodeled and I've created a new home office. And I wouldn't mind a new chair for my spiffy desk. So the above caught my eye. The Tyler Bi Cast Leather Molded Office Chair went from $249.99-$279.99 to $99.99. Even thrifty me thought that was a good deal so I clicked through to the chair and see this:
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Thank you for contacting World Market. We are very sorry to hear that you are unable to purchase the item at the sale price.
It is our intention to make this website thorough, accurate, and helpful to our customers. Nonetheless, there may be times when certain information contained on this website may be incorrect, incomplete, or inaccurate. We apologize in advance for any such errors that may result in an incorrect price, item unavailability or otherwise affect your order.
Please understand that the content of this website is presented on an "as is" basis and we make no claim as to its accuracy, either expressed or implied. We reserve the right to correct errors (whether by changing information on this website or by informing you of the error and giving you an opportunity to cancel your order) or to update product information at any time without notice.
Thank you for understanding!
If you need any further assistance, please do not hesitate to let us know. Our Customer Service Department is open from 7:00 AM until midnight EST. The telephone number is 1-877-967-5362.
Okay, again. I am a bit blown away that I am being told that just because something shows up on their website, that doesn't mean it is accurate or they will honor the information.
Silly me. So I responded again:
"I wasn’t demanding you sell me the chair at the sale price that your web site advertised. I was just hoping you would either correct the error and at least honor the price you still are promoting. But that is obviously not part of your business model (to stand behind your promise’s with good customer service. Here is a screen shot from a few minutes ago. Please correct your error. "
This morning they responded yet again:
Thank you for contacting World Market.
We understand the importance of your product inquiry. It's great to have you as a loyal customer. We are happy to look into this for you.
After checking our system, we can see that the Tyler Bi Cast Leather Molded Office Chair in the color Smoke Black is currently on sale for $99.99 and that is why you are seeing the sale price when you search for the item; however, it is currently out of stock.
We apologize for any inconvenience caused and we hope this information is helpful
If you need any further assistance, please do not hesitate to let us know. Our Customer Service Department is open from 7:00 AM until midnight EST. The telephone number is 1-877-967-5362.
You have got to be frigging kidding me. I spent some time on my next response:
"Dear World Market Customer Support Team:
Thank you for contacting World Market.
We do apologize for the issues surrounding some of the prices listed on our website. We appreciate your pointing this error out to us.
We are aware that there are currently some items that are only showing the lowest price available on that item instead of a range of prices as it should. We have certainly been updating our IT Department with the information as these errors are discovered and they are fervently working to correct any misinformation as quickly as possible.
We realize that this knowledge does not change anything with regards to the issue that you are having, we simply wanted to provide a fuller picture for you with regards to the errors.
While, as you have been informed, we cannot honor the incorrect prices, we would like to offer you a 20% discount on your next online order as an apology. Your promotional discount code is:
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
To redeem, copy and paste, or type directly into, the Apply Promotional Code box in your shopping cart on our website.
Again, we apologize for the error and appreciate your understanding.
If you need any further assistance, please do not hesitate to let us know. Our Customer Service Department is open from 7:00 AM until midnight EST. The telephone number is 1-877-967-5362.
I asked the AI chat thingy what it meant to be relevant and it babbled on about meaning something to your audience. I don't really have an audience so I don't think that definition is relevant.
Ironic, don't you think?
Having recently turned 65, I struggle with being relevant. I think at some point being old sort of translated to being wise. Perhaps that was true in a world where you needed to be wise to survive long enough to be old. Now being old kind of means you are well...just old.
It's just that you are automatically considered irrelevant because your hair is white and your skin is wrinkled. That renders you (dare I say it) invisible. You don't count. You are out of touch. Your opinion doesn't matter.
So I am stuck in this body thinking my brain is young despite what I see in the mirror. What do I do? I can't totally ignore it. I am 65. I don't move as quick as I used to. I forget things. I don't have much of a social life. But am I irrelevant?
Maybe.
Maybe we, as a generation, should step out of the way and let the following (or now) generations make a mess of it on their own until they reach our age and go through their own crisis. Then we can look at them through our rheumy eyes and say, "Sucks, doesn't it?"
Then it becomes more relative than relevant.
Nothing really matters, anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows
--Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody
"Nothing. The absence of something. The void. The concept of nothingness has been a topic of philosophical debate and scientific inquiry for centuries. But what exactly is nothing?
In everyday language, we often use the word "nothing" to mean the absence of something. For example, if we say "there is nothing in the fridge," we mean that there is no food or drink inside. But this kind of nothing is still something – it's an absence of something tangible.
In a philosophical sense, nothing refers to the absence of everything – the absence of matter, energy, space, time, and even thought. This concept of nothing is much harder to understand because it is beyond our everyday experience.
From a scientific perspective, the concept of nothing is also complicated. Physicists have long studied the properties of empty space, or what they call a vacuum. But even a vacuum is not truly nothing – it contains particles popping in and out of existence and fluctuations in energy. According to quantum mechanics, even in the absence of matter and energy, there is still a level of uncertainty and unpredictability in the universe.
In some cultures, nothing is seen as a positive concept. In Zen Buddhism, for example, nothingness or emptiness is a state of mind that is necessary for enlightenment. In Western culture, however, nothing is often seen as negative – a void that needs to be filled with something.
So, what can we conclude about nothing? It's a complex concept that can be understood in different ways depending on our perspective. Ultimately, it may be impossible to fully comprehend the idea of nothingness because it is beyond our everyday experience. But the pursuit of understanding nothing can lead us to contemplate the mysteries of the universe and the nature of existence itself."
--ChatGPT
I have always prided myself on being able to write a great deal about nothing. So I challenged an AI Bot to write a blog post about nothing and it literally wrote six paragraphs about nothing. I emphasize "literally." It sounds good. It looks good. But it doesn't really have any substance. Which I suppose is ironic when you write about nothing.
I'm not sure I know how to feel about AI writing. Writing is the one thing I've considered I can do well. Now a bunch of random binary numbers in the cloud can piece together words much better than your average high school junior. And I'm willing to bet many of them are using AI to get around random English essays.
So far though, AI doesn't seem to be able to capture the subtle or the pun. This post about nothing didn't have anything clever to offer (which seems to be my downfall). Because I would have wrapped up this post about nothing just like I am going to:
I have nothing more to say.
I suppose psychoanalysts aren't suppose to show emotion. You can't give clues that something the patient said is significant or you are leading the witness. Wait that is a courtroom where someone is on trial for something that they may or may not feel guilty about.
Ooooo, a Freudian slip!
Of course I just Googled Freudian slip and found umpteen images of Freud wearing women's underwear. How juvenile. And they all beat me to the pun as usual.
Ironically, the first thing I toyed with majoring in in college was Psychology. I took the obligatory Psych 101 lecture class in my freshman year. It was taught by a professor who looked remarkably like Sigmund Freud. But most of the lectures were by his assistant. Apparently the professor had a drinking problem and could only make it to class to hand out copies of a book he wrote and required for the course. Then he stumbled back to his office and slipped into tenured bliss and bourbon.
I guess like all people who toy with majoring in Psychology, I was hoping it would help me figure out myself. I don't think I would ever have made a good Psychologist (though I can be a decent listener). I just don't think I could have listened to people spouting their problems all day without rolling my eyes and thinking about lunch before looking at my watch and saying, "Well, that's all we have time for today) right in the middle of a major breakthrough.
It's not that I don't care about people's problems. There was a time in my life when I thought I was extremely emphathetic and could figure out how to help people with emotional problems. I eventually discovered that have the time I was projecting how I would feel on other people and with women, I was an asshole for trying to fix their problems and not just listening.
At least if you are a counselor, you are being paid to be an asshole.
I imagine I have admitted in my blog on many occasions that I have seen counselors in the past. And although they were generally very nice people, I can't say that they did me a lick of good. I in fact felt worse on many occasions because of the debt I was racking up paying someone to listen to me.
This is not to say that counseling or therapy is good for some people. I, however, have never felt better having spilled the beans (outside of my blog) about my feelings or emotional shortcomings. It's not that I want to hide my feelings, I just want to keep them to myself where they are warm and cozy.
So it is best that I changed my major umpteen times after dabbling in Psychology and settled on Journalism. It may not have been lucrative, but I can crank out 1000 words in about five minutes with very few rewrites.
It may not make Sigmund smile, but I'm quite proud of it.
I saw Star Wars when it first came out in 1977. It was unknown at the time. There were no lines. I was blown away and saw it a couple more times but the lines came. I have seen every Star Wars film since. I have been to the Star Wars section of Disneyland. I am a fan, but not obsessive. But the one thing I always believed in from the film was the Force.