On the issue of seeing my kids (2 nieces and a nephew) this past year has been a rollercoaster. My sister, who is the mom of Ramona and Beezus, has had undiagnosed mental illness that has progressed to a level that is affecting her ability to make good decisions. Her use of alcohol has also increased. This mix, along with being a mean person, has made her harder and harder to deal with. With the older two girls she often made the decision to send them to me when she could no longer handle parenthood. Sometimes she made the decision before things went bad, other times it was after the cops or dcf had visited her home. It was always before they had to enter the system. 

Eleven years ago, she had another baby, let's call her Mae. When Mae was eight months old, she locked all three of them out of her house. The three of them were out on the street in Wichita. Their dad had a cousin who lived there and was willing to drive them the four hours to my house. This is when the decision-making skills started to noticeably decline. This is also when she became more verbally and emotionally abusive to those who tried to help her.

She then went on to have another baby Finn. While she was pregnant, she quit drinking and took Mae back into her home. They moved back in with me when Finn was 2.5 months old. The older two had stayed with me when Mae went back so now all four of us were a family along with my son Lane, who still lived at home. Two years later she was pregnant again. She called to tell me and said she was sorry. She did not move the other two back in immediately. She waited until Finn's birthday in November, she did not let me see them for a few months. This was the start of her withholding them when she was trying to hurt me. Ray was born in March. I kept them several times for a week or two at a time so she could work. Her job is of the nature that allows her to work for a week or two then take a week or two off. When Ray was eight months she called me crying, I could hear Ray screaming in the background. She said she could not take it anymore. I drove to Wichita and brought all three kids home. For over two years we lived happily as a family. Yes having three young kids in my forties was tiring, but I had the older two girls to help. Beezus had a baby when Ray was one, so the family was growing.

Then she decided she was going to move closer to the family. She moved twenty miles away. The plan was to slowly integrate the kids back into her household. I do not remember why she became angry with me. There was no slow integration. She showed up at my house and took three kids who did not recognize her and put them in the car. When they cried she said "you will be fine," in a sharp tone and drove off. A lot of drama ensued in her life, lost her job, wrecked her car, went to a mental hospital, started a pattern of calling 911 a lot, seemingly for attention. The kids were back with me.    Then she quit drinking. We had a whole summer of the kids having both of us. We took them swimming together, had birthday parties, it was a good summer. Then she started drinking. I had lent her a pickup. It was old and did not go in reverse, there was no air conditioning, but it was good for driving around town. Then a house fire happened. The night before, when we realized how drunk she was Beezus had brought the kids to my house. She got even more drunk and started calling to demand we bring them home. She called our mom to demand she get them back for her. She was able to get out of the house that night, but nothing was left. 

The kids stayed with me while she spent the only money she had on hotel rooms. As she ran out of money and options, she became more erratic. She finally agreed to come stay with me. Then one day she loaded up the kids and all of their stuff in my pickup and left town. They were homeless for weeks, then ended up in a homeless shelter. I went six months without seeing them. That was the longest stretch of time without them since Mae was born. It hurt, that was the intention. As life does it stabilized, she found a place they could live. Over the next few years more drama happened, there is always drama. Kids were with me, not with me, removed from the home for three months. The pattern of calling 911 too often continued. The pattern of not letting me see them for months at a time continued. Whenever she needed help she would call me and I would get to see the kids until she did not need me anymore. A couple of times she completely forgot to drop the pretense and would say things like if you give me this I will let you have the kids next weekend. Sometimes, did not fulfill her end of the bargain, sometimes she did.

Then, last Friday the kids were removed from her home. They spent some time in a shelter. Tuesday they were placed with me. We are happy. Today, Finn asked me to get ingredients for sundaes. He made both of his sisters a sundae then sat down to enjoy his. 

Being Alive

     I have vowed to post regularly; to use this time to explore my thoughts and feelings about life. Today, after a rather uneventful day at work, I could think of nothing to say. I shut my laptop and decided to work out. This is new, the working out. Before the move I walked a minimum of 4 miles a day. After the move I have focused my attention on work. Exercise has become sporadic, I might walk 5 miles on my day off, then go three days doing nothing. I do have a stand-up desk, but that is not a free pass. I can feel myself getting weaker, less nimble, less quick. 

    After my workout, I felt I deserved to watch a movie. I almost rewatched The Whale. I have spent part of my day in Moscow Idaho, in that movie. Fun fact, I once lived very near Moscow. That was a long time ago. Instead, I watched Joy the Birth of IVF. I realized that unintentionally I have been watching movies about life and death.

     It started with The Man From Earth, which explores longevity of life and what you can do with it. There is not a sequel, shut up it does not exist. The next day I watched The Whale, which deals with death and dealing with the mistakes that are made and the good we do. The saddest part of that movie, for me, is when we see the apartment from the outside and realize he lives on the second floor. How long has he been isolated? Then in his last week four people come into his world. He has forgot to live until it was time to die. Tonight, I watched a movie about giving birth, but even more it was about what can we give to others, what good can we do.

    I realize I have thrown up a hodgepodge of thoughts and references. I also realize that if this essay were graded it would be called sloppy. But life is sloppy, thoughts are sloppy, expression can be sloppy. After giving all of this much thought I think that all of us deal with life and death, no matter how long or short our lives are. More important is the idea of being alive. What do we do with this life while we have it?  What can we do to give value to our life?  I suspect the answer lies in giving. I guess it is for each of us to decide what we give. We can give help, opportunities, life, love, art......

The Whale

 I was soaking in a hot bath with tears running down my face, I thought 'If Mick walks in, I will have to explain this.' I was not ugly crying; I am prone to that. It was as if I was over hydrated, and the water was just leaking out my eyes.

That sentence brings a lot to unpack. Let's start with why was I soaking in the tub? I do not know if you noticed there was a storm overtaking the USA shaped like Bezos' rocket ship. It plowed the KC area, so I spent hours shoveling snow, just to free my cars. Afterwards, I climbed into bed with a bowl of stew and a few slices of Italian loaf. I warmed up while watching The Whale. I loved the movie: it moved me Bob. As I often do when I watch a movie that moves me I read about it on Wikipedia, I read the about it on IMDB. I read the reviews. Then I did some stretches; I ran a bath. Suddenly, while I soaked in the tub it all boiled down into that one thought I was waiting for. 

It all came down to one idea. We can talk about the acting, which was amazing. Or the make up, which was also amazing. But, the writing, it hit nerves.

We are all slowly killing ourselves while trying to save somebody else.

That is it; that is all.

 Well, here we are starting another year. This morning, I was reading an article on Substack about attention being our number one currency. This made me start thinking about my attention and how I am spending it. If where we spend our money shows what we value, then how much more so does how we spend our attention. 

Having a day to spend all to myself, I decided to take a long walk. I walked with no distractions; I did not put on my headphones to listen to a podcast or music. The time was used to think about the word attention and what it meant and how I was using mine. Mostly, my mind just wandered around. After more than an hour of walking I thought about the word attention. I repeated it a few times. The word intention followed it into my thoughts. What are my intentions in life? Should my attentions lead to my intentions? Quality was the next word that came in through the open door. Quality? What does quality mean in the context of my life. Quality of life, that is a phrase we use often when discussing death, but what about when thinking about how to live one's life?  What would a quality life look like to me? What brings me joy? Who do I want to be when I am alone? How do I want to spend my attention? 

These are the questions I am going to start answering for myself. I feel like I have the beauty of a blank slate to write on. I have moved from one corner of Kansas to the opposite corner. Kansas is a big state, so just in distance it is a big move. Bigger than that is the move from an extremely rural area to being 30 minutes from Kansas City.  I moved from a house, town, a county where I had lived for more that 20 years. A place I had raised my family and knew everybody to a place where I can feel alone. What do I want to write on this blank slate? What brings value and quality?