One of my favorite lines, from the movie Gettysburg: “We’ve got grievances.” Don’t we all? But here I am, getting ready for another lighting trip to the States — there and back in under a week — and I know I’ll have to face to gate agents once I get there telling me that they’re “sorry but you’ll have to check your carry-on bag because there’s no more room for it in the cabin.” Honestly, it’s called “carry-on” for a reason. I pack a bag small enough that it’ll actually fit in the cabin.
Sadly though, I’m one of the few. But this time, I’ve got an idea. When I’m told I have to check my bag on a flight, I’ll simply point to the bag template they have at the gate and say “It says I can take it on the plane if it fits in there.” I know the answer already. “We’re sorry sir, but there just isn’t any room left in the cabin,” to which a brave man would reply “This is odd, because I’ve seen you let 36 people [believe me, I’ll be counting] onto this flight with bags that obviously won’t fit in your little rack there, and now you’re telling me, a person with a bag that does fit with room to spare, that I can’t take my ‘carry-on’ on the plane.”
Yeah, right. If there was any justice in the world, they’d all stand up and applaud me right then and there.
Grievances. I’ve got others, and I’ve written a bit about them. But I don’t want to make this all about my complaints. Too much “You kids get off my lawn!” makes for dull reading if you really want anything of substance. I mean, I did just write about this a couple of days ago — how the loud mouths have way too much influence in the social media square. It’s ruining us, so why should I add to it? I guess I could take comfort though in the fact that I’ll never have the audience enough to qualify among their ilk. I should certainly rejoice in that.
In the meantime, I’ve got to remember why I ever started writing here in the first place. I do it for my own edification. At most I get a half-dozen views in a day — legitimate views, not hackers and spammers trying to crash my site. I appreciate those who read my stuff, but in the end, it’s just my constant prattlings. It’s really more just about the discipline. I did post here every day for over a year, and that counts for something with me if not with anyone else. I proved to myself that I could do it. And maybe I learned something from it too. I’ve considered writing something that could be called a “book” one of these days. My latest project of self-discipline — the reading of nothing but Pulitzer winners in fiction this year (it’s been longer than a year, actually, but I hope to close my last book in that category at 11:59 PM on the 31st of December, just to see if I can pull it off) — anyway, that project has taught me that good writing isn’t an easy thing. Sure I can write a “book.” I’ve proven to myself that I can sit down and crank something out for quite some time now. But will it be any good? Most likely not. Will it keep my mind active and even turn out to be interesting (to myself)? I think so. I’m quite certain that once I retire, I can spend the first two or three hours of every day writing, and that after some months of doing that, I will have something to “publish” should I pursue it further. The question is, should I, or would I be wasting my time?
I know at least one person who would read it. But it might be a struggle. We’ll see.
You’ve not seen pictures of my two grandsons here because I respect my children’s decisions to limit their appearances on the internet. I not only respect that, I laud it. We don’t need kids starting from scratch in the public eye. Let them grow up. Let them discover life by looking at the world live and in color. And that means not plastering their faces out there for the world to watch their every move. Sure, share pictures with friends and family — but more intimately than on a public post that can be passed around by perfect strangers.
Anyway, I mention this merely as an opportunity to say how much I dig my grandsons. I love my wife. I love my children. I love my whole extended family from top to bottom. They are some of the coolest people on the planet. But those grandkids. I never knew how warm and wonderful a heart could feel until I held them in my arms, and I think of them and miss them every day. I have a picture of my father as my own children (who were both under 5 at the time) were climbing and playing on him, and when I look at his face, I can finally know what he was feeling first hand. He was a blessed man, as am I.