Sunday, May 18, 2014

I walk alone, but not really...

Loner, not part of the pack nor the group or the gang... alone but watching. Friendly enough, but not overwhelming, hopefully not smothering. Strange until close to eccentric, but odd is closer.

I have ridden my motorcycle with other cyclists, but mostly I ride alone to my own destination, riding with my bother and nephew was neat, but they actually talked to each other while they rode and I just go in silence, or all the silence the wind and wheels will give me on top of an active engine. I am content with the ride, as long as I maintain upright, when I am down a little help is appreciated. And I do go down, not as hard as I once did, but hard enough.

It has taken my wife years to get accustomed to me not doing what everyone else does, she has to explain me to her friends and relatives. I shouldn't burden her, but I am going to remain myself and she accepts me, her friends and relatives that haven't really met me only feel a little sorry for her. She is my lover, and that has been a real stretch to love enough to not be truly alone. We ignored two governments as much as possible, but they did get involved in making our partnership legal and binding. Duh, like we couldn't find a way out of their paperwork - lots of others have. It took my mother a few years to figure out how strong we were committed. If one or two are crazy enough they will be committed. But it isn't the paperwork with some unloving government agency.

Instant communication has made me farther away rather than closer. I start ignoring telephone rings because there are so many I have no interest in listening to trying to persuade me of something. Call blocking worked for a bit, but ignoring the rings always works. Emails are easier to delete without opening, and if it is someone that I want to read or hear from I can open my end and do so.

Facebook has pictures, posted by interesting folks, relatives and friends, and I always love to see me in actions (if he would just get younger and thinner). So even with NSA storing all my bits and bytes, I don't mind for my own utility, their foolish storing of everything because they don't know what it is they really need to do their job. Government job, they only have to show you something to make it look like they are critical, not actually productive.

Sent a message to my sister with our parents slides, looking for a picture of a younger me and my Harley-Davidson 1948 flathead with the tank shift and the rocking clutch pedal. Dad had to have taken some kind of a photograph, he really rebuilt it, I only rode it. Pennsylvania to Coral Gables, Florida and back, alone but not lonely.

For Facebook folks: You need something to feel guilty about? How about the number of friends that you never hear from now, because you are so strange, in what you share, post and postulate? Yes, they only thought they really knew you....

From a Facebook Friend:

Reread Dune this weekend. Perhaps the 6th time I have read it.
I am struck by how much more the details emerge in the story as I, the reader, have matured with age.

Was this Herberts plan all along?

My comment: I am sure that great books speak to a new you, every time you return, the words didn't change, but you have.


  1. Change we do, mature??? Maybe. Our focus changes as we age and responsibilities change, and change again... Great points and I'd love to see a pic of that old Harley!

  2. Excellent points as what w are reading is viewed through eyes that have witnessed more since the initial view of the words. There are a couple of books that I re-read about every 10 years, still gaining something out of them each time.