Stuff That Pops Into My Head

[ronsthoughts]

The Bathroom Stall

So there I was. Doing my business. You know, that business that everyone does, but nobody talks about. (Well, everyone but me, apparently, because I am about to talk about it.) I had walked down the hall from my office and to the left.(Has anyone else noticed that bathrooms always seem to be down the hall and to the left?)(No, seriously.) (WTF with that?)( I really like using parentheses!) Anyway, so I walk in to this open space that has two urinals (I will get to those in a minute), and three “stalls.” OK, stalls? What are we, friggin horses?? Should I expect that there will be hay in there for me when I walk in? Two of these “stalls” are quite small, with barely enough room to maneauver and do the things one does in there, and one that is enormous. Bigger than some hotel rooms I have stayed in! Now I do understand that the larger stall is for people in wheelchairs who need more space. I totally get that, respect it and think it’s great that they provide them for those who need it. But, I will also say that in the many years I have been using these public spaces, I have not once seen one of them being used by a person in a chair. So with that being said, with one of the mini stalls occupied and the other two open, I plopped (no pun intended) myself down in the penthouse suite on the end.

(There was really no reason to start a new paragraph here, just kinda felt like it. And it’s my story, so bite me!) So anyway, there I am, sitting on this public “throne”, in my penthouse suite, with a very classy strange circular piece of paper between me and God knows what level of bacteria underneath it, and being me, I start to notice things. Why do the walls of these horse stalls not go all the way to the ground? Do they really save that much money by having them only go down 86% of the way to the floor? I have seen actual horse stalls, containing actual horses, and they do go all the way to the ground. How is this fair? I do, (again because I am me and I find humor in pretty much everything) find it quite interesting to check out what I see under the open 14% of the wall and into the mini boutique stall next to me. You can really learn a lot about a person from this information. This guy had very nice shoes, from what I could see, because they were covered up by his scrunched up pants and underwear. Nice black shiny ones. They looked like maybe he got them at Bloomingdales or something. I really wanted to tell him he could get the same ones at DSW for much less, but I digress. The pants, although quite messed up in that moment, were a nice khaki color and appeared to be made of quality fabric. Perhaps a J Crew situation, but likely made in China. (Come on, everything seems to me nade in China these days.) Now, I would have chosen brown shoes with these pants, but I am certainly not one to give fashion advice, and certainly not to this dude I don’t even know. Or do I know him???? The underwear situation is a bit tough to figure out as they were bunched up inside the pants, but really, kinda don’t need to delve that deep into this guys under garment situation.

So, there we are. Two guys sitting about 3 feet from each other, semi undressed, and as quiet as two humans can possiblly be. I mean I could literally reach out and touch this dude if the mini wall wasn’t there! So who is it going to be? Who will make a bodily function related noise first??? It’s a total showdown!!! Game on baby! Now, I always prefer a bathroom that has a nice fan, with nice meaning really friggin loud, to drown out said sounds. Just makes the experience a bit more, well, tolerable. Not sure about women, but some men have completely no shame when it comes to this noise situation. They will come in, drop trow, and just let it rip. Not really my style. I prefer to be more sly and patient about it, providing the always generous “courtesy flush” whenever necessary. I am just that kind of guy. That’s how I roll. So anyway, me and wrong color shoe guy sit and each do our thing, in our own style of doing things, and then the next race is on. Who can finish the necessary paperwork, re-dress, and exit their horse stall first, wash their hands (one would certainly hope), and get out first without being seen by the other? I have to say, I was quite efficient today, and ended up beating him by a nose in a photo finish. (Did you pick up on the horse lingo there, tied to the stall humor?)

Then there is the other type of visit that us men make to said room, that of the standing variety. This, although always a much shorter vist to the room, has it’s own humorous idiosyncrasies. In this case, there are two standing spots to choose from. The one on the left has about a foot and a half of width space between the wall of the room on the left, and yet another strange, non full-sized wall to the right. This mini wall is even smaller than the horse stall walls, starting about two feet from the floor and ending around my chest. There really seems to be no other reason for this mini wall other than keeping dudes from checking out each other’s junk. Totally fine by me!( the wall, not dudes checking out my junk.) On the other side of this mini wall is another space, equally as narrow. Each cramped space is equipped with a semi oval shaped white porcelain bowl stuck to the wall, which looks bright and shiny and very clean, only it most definitely is not! The bowl on the left sits right around my upper thigh, while the one on the right is much lower. Is this some kind of class system, or is there supposed to be a choice made pertaining to the size of ones previously discussed junk? I’m never sure, but just in case, when both are open I am sure to choose the larger one. (I mean, who wouldn’t?) But, when you are at your pre-chosen big boy bowl, delivering your offering, sometimes another guy will come in and stand right next to you. He gets the little boy bowl. I wonder if he feels “less than” because of this. (Well, we will never know because the mini wall is there to keep all of this a secret!). So there we are, me and a total stranger, standing virtually shoulder to shoulder and taking care of business. One does not dare attempt to gaze downward over the mini wall. This is just not done. Instead we stare straight ahead, thoroughly inspecting the shiny tile in front of us. Why did they choose this color? Does it match the color scheme of the rest of the room? Why is it so shiny? How often do they clean it? Was it too made in China???? After spending some time pondering these questions, while emptying my tank, we both zip up (At least I assume. I am a zipper guy, but some dudes undo the belt and kinda let it all hang out, perhaps to just breathe a little) and move to the sink for an awkward wordless washing, politely taking the towels quickly and stepping aside for the other guy to grab some. I am totally for the paper towels. The hand dryers just don’t get it done. (Sorry environment, this is not a global warming post.) And then back to work until the next time I need to visit the room and do it (one or the other) once again.

[ronsthoughts]

Where I Belong

I have been through a lot in the last 4+ years. A lot. My life has changed immeasurably in so many ways, and I have at times really struggled to understand just where I belong. I have learned so very much about myself during this time, about the world around me, and where I fit. Where I belong. I have often struggled to understand my place in this world as a solo person, not just as a part of someone else. I am really good at interacting with others, at hopefully bringing positivity into their lives, love, or just a smile and someone to lean on. My girls, my friends, family, or women I have been in relationships with have all provided me with opportunities to be there for others. But what about me? When can I learn to take care of me, that I deserve to be happy on my own, independent and strong.

I will say that learning to take care of me or at times to put me first is a work in progress. I have definitely become better at it. And I have slowly learned to embrace my time alone instead of being afraid of it. But I have continued to struggle with the question of where I belong. My marriage ended by my own choice, and although our relationship wasn't perfect, I played the role of husband and father really well. I was largely content in those roles, embracing the good while mostly tuning out the bad. I was good in those roles, and most importantly, it was where I belonged. Husband and daddy? Two roles that are tailor made for me. While the husband part is gone for now, the daddy part remains the heart and soul of who I am. But a big chunk of me has been missing since my marriage ended, that feeling of belonging. Of knowing where I am supposed to be. Being in a 2 1/2 year relationship with someone I loved made me feel like that was where I belonged. But it wasn't. Getting over that was very hard, not just for losing that love, but for again being left to search for where I was supposed to be, to find what made sense for me, what felt right. Where I belonged. It was a hard time but I made my way through it, slowly becoming a stronger man in the process. My ex embraced her brokenness. She decided that she needed to sit in the pain and engulf herself in it to get past it. Not me. I wanted to lick my wounds and move my life forward. I don't see any reason to wallow in pain. What is the use, to punish yourself for wrongdoings? Sorry, I did enough of that and I was done.

So I have maintained course, trying to let things happen naturally in my life witout forcing them. That in itself is super hard for me. I am by nature a fixer, always seeking a solution to treat what ails us. So for me to step back and let things happen naturally, largely unobstructed, has been immensely difficult. And recently, literally in the last few days, it has started to happen. I am starting to feel like I am where I belong, here, now, in the immdiate present. While I have many questions and doubts about my future, I am trying not to focus on those and to just be here, in the now. Things are looking up. Work is better, my girls are both thriving, my heart is full with the love of a beautiful soul, I'm healthy and physically strong and feeling content. I am finally feeling like this is right, that I am on the right track. That I am where I belong. I feel good both in and out of my relationships. I feel good about me, on my own. Confident and good.

My love has slowly become more. She has slowly become my home. That is a really hard thing to say, as nice as it feels. Scary because the last time I opened my heart this completely, it was literally crushed. Crushed by someone I believed in who ended up being a fraud. So to say that I have been gun shy would be an understatement. I am much more expressive than she is, hugely so in fact. So I have had to get used to my expressions of love not being returned in the same manner they are delivered. It's not that I don't think she feels it, I know she does, but that she doesn't do so in the way that I do. But I feel her love ion many other ways, and it feels wonderful. We have vastly different viewpoints on getting re-married. More fear. In recent weeks I have pulled back some on my expressions of love for her. I think subconsciously I have wanted to see if she noticed. She did. Her recent uneasiness and questions of my feelings have shown it. I think I have also pulled back on my feelings as a defense mechanism. Wrong move, Milman! Be true to yourself and who you are. Be open, honest, and vulnerable. That is who you are. I feel she is my home now, where I belong. I have to let her be her just as much as I have to be me. And I have to stay the course and be in the now, here, right where I belong.

[ronsthoughts]

Look Up!!!!

Anyone who knows me at all knows that I like to talk. Ok, I really like to talk. Like a lot! Communicating with people brings me joy. I am always seeking out interactions with other people, whether they be verbal or non-verbal. I sometimes go out of my way to say hello to someone or strike up a conversation, or even just flash a smile to a passerby. One of my favorite things to do is to catch a child's eye and make it my goal to get them to return my smile. I usually get there, although some are more challenging than others. There are few things sweeter than a child's smile! Human interacton of any kind just makes me happy. My girls are constantly saying "Dad, do you have to talk to EVERYONE?" Well yes, I do. I like it and it makes me happpy. It is such a simple way to bring joy into someone's day.

My college degree is in communication, and I use it every day in my business, so I consider myself somewhat of an expert. My generation tends to communicate the old fashioned way. Nothing like good old talking, be it over the phone or in person, talking always gets it done. But unfortunately, those pesky millenials are changing how things are done, and not for the better. Their preffered, and in many times only, form of communicaton is on their cell phones. And not by making or taking a call! G-D forbid actually speak to someone?! The horror!!!! They use these devices to text or communicate through some type of social media. Snapchat, Instagram, whatever. They have literally taken the place of the human voice. And it has become so rampant that adults are copying this behavior and communicating this way more and more as well. And now not only do people communicate trough these things, they do everyting through them. Directions, buying things, movie reservations, weather, and the list goes on.

So I have one thing to say to these people so glued to their devices. LOOK UP!! Take your friggin eyes off the screen and look up! I have seen numerous people literlly run into walls, doors, even windows because they are staring down at their phones. And don't even get me started with the people staring at them when they drive. Dangerous beyond belief! Look up people. There is so much beauty in this world to look at and you are missing it. There are so many great conversations to be had and you are missing them. There are so many beautiful smiles on beautiful children to look at. Look up and look another human in the eyes. Connect and communicate, talk and share your thoughts, your ideas and feelings. Heck, even argue! Argue your point in a heated debate about politics or sports, or which restaurant has the better pizza. Just communicate. Gesture with your hands, use your facial expressions, or a gentle touch to someones shoulder. Use a few of the hundreds of non-verbal cues available to you. Just look the fuck up!! There is so much to see, you just have to look at it.

What will it be like 5, 10, 20 years from now if this trend continues. Will human beings even retain the ability to speak? Why would it be necessary if two people sitting right next to each other are texing back and forth. Will people still smile at one another? Will they understand non-verbal communication or voice inflection? Will they be able to differentiate one person's voice from another? All really important questions that I don't have answers for. I will definitely still be talking. Will I be the only one? Will nobody respond to me without the use of a device? And how advanced will these devices be then? Will there be chips implanted in people's heads allowing us to automatically send thoughts or ideas into another person's? Sound crazy? Maybe not so far off. Who knows what will come next, but if they continue to give us ways to not communicate, will we not at all. Scary indeed.

[ronsthoughts]

Fear The FUD

Fear, uncertainty, and doubt. Also known as FUDs. Three emotions that can be really scary and can wreak havok on one's life. But they can also have positive influence as well, creating opportunities for us to overcome them and perservere, succeed, and grow. I am always looking for ways to improve. To get better and always be learning and growing. But there have been times that the FUDs have taken over my entire psyche with damaging and crippling effects on my life that really pushed me to the edge. I was controlled by them and they were taking me down the wrong path. But as I turned my life around and re-took control of it, I was able to use those FUDs to my advantage by recognizing them, developing strategies to stop them, and most importantly, vowing to never let them rule my life again.

The concept of FUDs was introduced to me by Master Maria Turnhout. She is the owner and Master Instructor at the Dojang where I haver trained for the last 7 1/2 years in the martial arts. She is one of the most inspirational and positive people I have ever known, and she talks about FUDs to make people aware not only of the harm they can do, but about the opportunity they provide us to improve, grow, and win. She teaches her students to always be looking for the positive and to put out positive vibes to those around you, creating the kind of energy that not only brings yourself up, but others in your presence as well.

It can be really draining to be around negative people. You know the ones. The people who always see the bad in others, and focus on the negatives that may occur in their daily life. The ones who look at people and automatically see their flaws instead of looking at them in a positive light. For me, I try to avoid these people at all costs. There is just too much goodness in my life now to let some downer of a human drain it from me. I try in many cases to help those people focus on the positives, but many are just too set in their ways to be any other way. And its a shame, because a few negative Nellies are pretty close to my inner circle and sometimes I can't help but be around them. I do the best I can.

Fear is innate in all of us. It comes from a part of the brain called the amygdala, which we all have pretty much from conception (ok, I'm no doctor, so cut me some slack here)(and yes, I googled to find info on the amygdala). We have natural things that we are afraid of, maybe ghosts, falling, earthquakes, mustard (yes, it is a fear) or public speaking to name a few. I have actually seen studies that say that public speaking is the number one fear that people have, next to death, Yes, apparently death is actually number two! Go figure. When one fears a particular activity or thing, it can really limit us on living certain parts of our lives. For instance; I am super comfortable standing up and speaking in front of a large group of people, but put me on a ladder, and I instantly start freaking out. Yes, I am quite afraid of heights. But I made a conscious decision many years ago not to let that fear limit the things I could experience in my life. So I have stood on top of the Empire State Building in New York, The Sears Tower in Chicago, The Eiffel Tower in Paris, Masada in Israel, The Statue of Liberty, The Space Needle in Seattle, The Duomo in Florence, The Cien Tower in Toronto, the Stratosphere in Las Vegas and many more sights in my life. Was I scared and fearful every sngle time I was on top of those structures? Oh hells yes!! But I made the decision to not let my fear beat me and limit me. And in the process I taught myself to focus on positives, to face my fears, and to win! Uncertainty is a bit different. Just a little trickier. Simply stated, uncertainty is simply not knowing if a decision you are about to make, or made, is/was the right one. I am usually a person who goes with his gut, depending greatly on my instinct and life experience to lead me in the direction that is hopefuly the right one. Am I always right? Of course not. But I do know that it is in those times where I let the uncertainty take control and I over-think things that I tend to get the least satisfying results. There are times that I have been uncertain on a decision, hastily made the wrong one, and ended up with a negative result. But I can turn those into positive lessons by using the experience learned to create a better result the next time I face a similar situation.

In my opinion, doubt is the single most destructive emotion of the three and can limit ones life in many different ways. I really try hard to believe in myself. I know that I am strong, smart, and generally a really good human being. It is in those times that I experience self doubt that I struggle the most. By far! One could make the argument that fear and doubt are one in the same, because people generally doubt themselves most when they fear failure. But I have learned to embrace doubt, to understand it's limiting powers, and to use what I learn from them to do the opposite. I also believe that putting out the right attitude helps to believe in the positivity it can bring. People likely think I am much more stong and confident than I may be feeling at a particular time. That's because I put that out there, in order to make myself feel positive, and hopefully make others feel it as well. So if I am feeling doubtful of my ability to accomplish a certain task or challenge, the positive approach helps me to make actual positivity a reality. If you feel strong, smart, handsome, or any of a number of other feelings, then you are. I really believe that. There have been times though in recent years that the doubt has really crippled me. My feelings of loss were overwhelming and I truly doubted my ability to ever get past it. It was truly awful. But slowly, deliberately and methodically, I began to practice positive self talk. Literally telling myself that I was good enough, strong enough. That I was enough. That I was worth it. And today I don't just tell myself that, I know in my heart that I am. Do I still face doubt, and FUDs in general. Of course I do. Everyone does. But it is what you do with them that shows who is in charge in the end. The FUDs no longer win, I do. And that is the way I am going to keep it!

[ronsthoughts]

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Laughing is awesome. It is by far the best expression of emotion. What else is there? Sadness? Boo! Worry? F that! Fear? No thank you! I choose laughter. I am actually quite in debt to laughter and humor, as it has helped me to get through the toughest times in my life. Whenever I need it, it’s always there. But laughter isn’t just a type of medicine for me. In times of sadness for those around me, I use my humor as an elixir to ail those in need of a smile on their face when they aren’t capable of one on their own. It is really quite powerful to be able to make someone laugh and it can be very fulfilling as well.

My sense of humor was bestowed upon me by my mom. She has that natural ability to see the humor in things, and I was lucky enough to be born with that gene. It has always just kind of been there. As I kid I was always the jokester in my social groups and in class at school. Now on the school side, I can’t say that the teachers had as much appreciation for it during class as I did. I’m pretty sure that in my years of Hebrew school that I likely spent more time in the principal’s office than in the actual classroom. What the heck? Didn’t they get my humor? Or maybe it just didn’t translate as well into the Hebrew. Yeah, that’s it. It must have been a cultural thing! In high school and college it was always my personality and sense of humor that got me the girls. Not that I am not incredibly handsome and sexy, because I totally am, but girls tend to like a guy who can make them laugh. Even in marriage, the SOH (sense of humor)(see what I did there)(clever, huh?!) played a major role. The ex-wife was hilarious as well (I’m funnier) and we played quite well off of each other’s humor

So when one becomes an adult (in age at least, not maturity level) how does one bring their wacky humor into the workplace? How could I continue to be true to myself and remain funny while still giving off a vibe of professionalism? I have had to pick and choose a lot over the years. There have been times in serious business meetings where someone sets up the perfect wise crack retort. I mean like perfect. Like the pitcher lobbing a 50 MPH fastball right down the middle of the plate and not swinging at it perfect. The answer is that it is really hard. I have spent years needing to bite my tongue, forcing contentment to say it in my head, giggle internally, and move on. It takes excessive strength to do that. Strength that I have not always had. I have made wise cracks in those meetings many times, with the result of uproarious laughter mind you, only to be individually reprimanded later by a superior in private. In the end, was it worth it? Oh hells yeah it was! I will always seek out the laugh! Few things bring me more joy.

Recently, I was told that someone who is relatively new in my life commented that they want to get to know me better. They said that it was hard to get to know the real me because I always seem to be laughing and having fun. Ummm hello?? That is the real me!! That is who I am. I love to put a smile on people’s faces. It is a huge chunk of who I am, so if you want to get to know me better, laugh at my jokes, dammit!

Now let me discuss a very serious type of comedic medicine. Sarcasm. It really is a category unto itself, with specific rules and timing that go along with it. And facial expressions, the most common type of which is no expression at all when using sarcasm. is a very important piece. There are several different types of sarcasm, most of which include deceiving another person and making them question if you are serious or not. This is a very entertaining piece to the deliverer of the sarcasm, and can bring great feelings of joy, as the person squirms as they wonder how to react. Now sarcasm is not just deception. Nay nay!! It isn't just asking the food server at The Yard House "what's on tap" and staring blankly at them as they struggle to answer the question. Or the Sommelier at a nice restaurant being asked "what kinds of wine do you have" or " do you have anything that isn't quite so old." (yes, I realize that both of those examples involve alcohol)(stop judging me, fucker!) Anyway, when once gets to know me better, they tend to build up a tolerance, or an immunity to my sarcasm. It makes it much more difficult to fool them into believing my sarcastic BS, and thusly more difficult for me to amuse myself My girlfriend is brilliant, but one of the most gullible people I have ever known. Now, her overly trusting nature, which is an excellent quality, also offers me a feeding ground for some solid and genuinely funny sarcasm. But as she gets to know me better as our years together pass, she is getting better at spotting the sarcasm and calling me out on it. A challenge, yes, but not completely a roadblock to my fun. She has even thrown it back at me a few times, which I greatly admire.

The most important thing about having the world’s funniest sense of humor is being able to know your audience and when to turn it off. Some people, go figure, have been offended by the funny things I say. It doesn’t happen very often, but it does. And in those times it is the right thing to do to humanly apologize and tell them it wasn't intentional. I mean really, it isn’t my responsibility to ensure that overly sensitive people with zero sense of humor don’t get offended by my hilarious humor. I mean geez! They just need to open their minds up and realize that laughter truly is the best medicine!

[ronsthoughts]

The True Definition of a Hero

Hero. What a powerful word. To me, it is one of the very most powerful in the english language. The official definition is "a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities." I think this definition is good, well pretty good. It is, however very open to interpretation. Courage? Pretty self explanatory. But does courage bring to mind a larger than life picture, like a brave warrior defeating a larger and stronger opponent? Or can it be as simple as a mom protecting her children against bullies? And what defines an outstanding achievement? Does it need to be on the scale of a Steve Jobs changing the way the world interacts with the invention of Apple products? Or can it be simpler, like an uneducated and poor immigrant working three jobs to enable their family to have food or an education. And what about noble qualities? They can be as grand as a Mother Theresa type figure, or as simple as young boy taking the time to walk an old lady across the street.

They all work, but my truest definition of a hero can be summed up in two words. My dad. Many people feel that their parents are their heroes, but few can really understand or articulate why. For me it is easy. Goodness, unselfishness, humility, protection, and love. These are the words that have always come to mind when thinking of my dad. From the memories I have as a young child to interaction with him in the present day, my dad has set an incredible example as a role model, unknowingly using those words as his roadmap to set the pace for our family. And as we all go through our current struggle coping with my mom's terrible disease, even in the face of much doubt and uncertainty, my dad has never strayed from those guiding principles that make him a true and genuine hero.

Goodness. At his core, Bob Milman is a truly good man. He sees the good in others and always seems to bring out the best in people. He is by no means as outwardly demonstrative as I am, but he doesn't need to be. His calm and easy going, even somewhat quiet demeanor has a calming and safe effect on others. He automatically trusts others, and likes them, seeing the good in them until they give him a reason not to. He believes in each one of us in our family, always accentuating the positive and staying clear of negative or degrading thoughts.

Unselfishness. I have never in my life come across a man who has put others before himself more than my dad. He always puts others needs before his own. Always. When my siblings and I were kids, we literally had no idea how many times his own needs and desires took a back seat to ours, always putting us and our mom first. That unselfishness has never been more evident to me than now. As our mom goes through the horrific stages of alzheimer's disease, he has been tested more than ever before in his almost 77 years. But he has never wavered in his love and commitment to her. Moving through the phases of the disease, often uncertain on how to proceed or which direction to take, his unselfishness has been intact throughout. This is most certainly not the way he envisioned spending his golden years, preferring to be hitting the road in his motorhome, my mom by his side, and experiencing the great beauty and wonder that this country has to offer. But his devotion to her, and his unselfishness, while being severely tested, has never wavered.

Humility. My dad has never had much of an ego. That is to say, that he has never been one to care much about material possessions or things. He is not a bragger, or the guy who has to constantly talk himself up. He doesn't need to one up people with the accomplishments of his children or grandchildren. He is quieter than many, allowing his character to speak for itself with his mouth closed much of the time. He was always my baseball coach, my scout leader, my mentor, and with the focus always on me, never on himself. He rarely missed a recital, a school play, or a birthday celebration, preferring to let others have the spotlight and be able to bask in the joy that they brought him from afar.

My dad taught me the fine art of being a protector. To this day, he shields us from having to worry about things, preferring to work through it on his own without us having to do so. I know there were many times in my childhood where perhaps money was tight, or there was increased pressure for one reason or another. In true tribute to my dad, I never had a clue. Maybe I was just a self-absorbed teen. But far more likely he protected me from having to worry about such things and let me just focus on being a kid. He was constantly talking with my teachers and counselors, quietly ensuring that I was staying the course in school and moving forward, without my ever knowing what he was doing to make me better.

Love. There are many ways to show love. Some more open and outward, and some where you just feel it and know it is there. The love my dad has for me has never once been questioned. Ever. He doesn't always say it, but it's always there. He shows up, plain and simple. Always present, accessible and eager to listen and help when needed. And always with true, pure, and selfless interest. He doesn't need to be reminded to show it either. When I am down and in need of being pumped back up, I always know that a call from my dad is not far behind. A chat, a lunch invitation, or just a quick text, but I always know it's coming and it always does. That's my dad. Quietly and simply, constantly reminding me he loves me.

For those reasons and so many more, my dad is my true hero. He has set for me the roadmap on how to be a kind, generous, and good man. An ikon of a husband, father and grandfather, but more than that, a saint of a man, of a human being. It is tough to live up to Bob Milman. He has set the standards so very high, likely unattainable. And all without an ounce of ego, never looking for thanks or praise, never seeking the spotlight or anything in return. I will never be able to reach that level. I've had the greatest teacher in the world. A man who is good, unselfish, humble, protective, and loving. A man who is a hero.

[ronsthoughts]

The Anxiety of Looking Backward

Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone. Some are larger than others, and thusly more life changing. And some are small, barely noticeable as we trek through our lives. But large or small, we all make mistakes at some point in our life. Hopefully, we learn from them and move forward, more educated and with the intelligence not to repeat them. But sometimes there are periods of time in ones life where we aren't even cognizent that we are making mistakes, heading in the wrong direction, until we have moved past them. Hindsight is 20/20. Everyone has heard that saying at least once. It means that when we look back on past experiences, they tend to look really clear from where we are now standing. A luxury that we didn't have when we were in them, but that certainly would have helped us prevent them from occuring in the first place.

For me, much of the last 4 years have been filled with sometimes immeasurable pain and anxiety. Had I possessed that ability to see things more clearly in the moment, would the bad things that occured have not happened at all? Who knows. We can't go back and change the past. We can only be present in the now and look to the future, using our newly learned skills, learning from our mistakes, and moving ahead with a hopefully positive outlook. This is something that I am continuing to learn. That the journey that is life is most certainly not a straight line, but one filled with hills and valleys, twists and turns, and bumps and bruises.

Looking back can be amazing. There are literally hundreds of incredible memories that I think of daily and that bring an instant smile to my face. There are too many to list here, but they go way back to my early childhood, through my marriage and the early years of raising my girls, and those in recent years that shine through and bring me joy. But sometimes I go back to the bad stuff and I sit in that for far too long. I question decisons I made, and outcomes that followed. I get angry at myself or at others for the ways we acted, things we said, or often even stronger felt, things we didn't say. I feel the same rage in the moment that I did back then, the acute anxiety and anger creeping back into me and taking over my body. And it is usually even stronger in the present, as I have likely escalated it in my mind to be even worse than it was back then. I know not what positive purpose this return to those moments can bring me, yet I am drawn there anyway. Somehow pulled into the pain, with no real reason, even though I know it will hurt.

I need to learn to stop doing this. It causes me pain, hurt, sadness, and huge levels of anxiety, but yet I go there anyway. Why? I honestly don't know. But I am working on it. In therapy and in my everyday life I am working really hard to accentuate the positives and keep the negatives at bay. That includes not looking at and sitting in the negatives of the recent past, but focusing on the good of the past and the present, while anticipating all that the future has to offer me. Success, love, joy, fullfillment, and so much more lie in front of me. I just need to learn to go after it, to embrace what the future has in store for me and to avoid what in the past has challenged me. I need to use those negatives from the past as teaching moments and opportunities to constantly get better, to be better. Why would one want to sit in anxiety when they could be present in goodness, and look forward to all the incredible things that the rest of ones life has to offer. Use what you have learned in the past, and make the future brighter.

[ronsthoughts]

The Power of Positivity

Everyone has known these people. They are all over the place and sometimes we just can't avoid them. Energery suckers. Negative Nellies, Downers. The list can go on to describe these people who you just want to stay away from at all costs. They can take a simple greeting such as "how's it going" and make it into a long diatribe about how everything sucks. Or even the responses like "just making it through the day", "hanging in there", or "fighting the fight" denote such a negative connotation to a question filled with possibility and the chance for expression one of the strongest emotions we as humans can utilize. Positivity.

I see positivity as a power. It is a power to feel, a power to express, and perhaps most importantly, a power to influence. Not only can you feel good by having a positive attitude, you can make others feel good as well. I see that as a super power. Don't you love when someone answers the "how's it going" question with "awesome", "I'm great", or "couldn't be better"? I love it! It just makes you feel good vs. those energy sucking answers. When I am in my martial arts class and the master instructor starts class, the first thing she says is "how's everyone feeling?" The class of roughly 30 people responds in unison, with passion, enthusiasm, and so much positivity "awesome Ma'am!" That shit just pumps me up ever single time! We also encourage each other during training and sparring drills with "nice job", "way to work" or my personal favorite, "you've got this!" Simple words, but with the extreme power of positivity behind them. And positivity does not just come from the spoken word. Non-verbal positivity can be even more powerful. 93% of human communicaiton is non-verbal, and there are so many powerful ways to express positivity. The easiest? A very simple yet highly powerful smile. Have you ever made eye contact with someone with what seems like a permanent scowl on their face and flashed then back a warm and genuine smile? It is one of my very favorite things to do, and gives me extreme joy every single time I watch the scowl disappear and the frown literally turn upside down. Talk about a positive way to make someones day brighter! Haptics (touch) is the most powerful form of non-verbal communication and can also be a really simple yet powerful way to contribute positively to ones day. Think of a face-to-face interaction with someone that begins with a handshake, or a hand placed gently (and appropriately) on someone's shoulder while makeing eye contact. It raises the level of positivity to new heights. I could go on and on with these, but you get the point.

I have always strived to see the good in people, to see the glass half full and to look for the best possible outcome in situations. I try to always trust and like people until they give me a reason not to. I tend to believe I can accomplish most things I set out to do, with limits of course, but I usually start out believing in myself. I have often been called a natural leader and I believe that people see that in me becasue of my positive attitude. It makes me feel not only proud, but powerful. I owe much of the success I have had in my life to having a PMA. A positive mental attitude. I have always tried to instill this value in my girls, to teach them to see the good in people in in the world. That is a work in progress, but aren't we all?

It is highly challenging in times of sadness or depression to remain positive all the time. Sometimes we are really tested. In recent years I have gone through ups and downs that have often felt like a steep and twisting rollercoaster, pulling me in whatever direction it chooses on any particular day. There have been times that my PMA has really been put to the test, and periods of time that I just haven't had it. But it's always in me, mostly there when I need it to heal me, and allow me to feel the power that comes from healing and raising up others. Positivity is power. Spread the word!

[ronsthoughts]

My Funeral and Eulogy

I think everyone has thought about it at least once in their lives. What will be said about you in your eulogy? And I have often heard the question "if you could write your own euology, what would you say?" Both very interesting things to think about, that can be looked at in several different ways. There are those who would want their personal accomplishments listed, their career achievements, kids and what they became, etc. Some would want more personal stories told. The way you met your spouse and fell in love, funny stories from the kids about vacations and things you told them. Those type of things.

I have been to many funerals in my life for people I had never met. Do I have some strange habit of attending stranger's funerals? Um, no. But I have been to services out of respect for close friends who lose someone, and often someone I never knew. I find it fascinating most of the time to learn so much about the person being memoralized. Their life story being told before loved ones, many of whom played major roles in the life being remembered. Now I am not saying that these were all great people, but that they had an effect on those around them in one way or another.

So let's see. If I could plan my own funeral, as morbid as it sounds, I think it would look something like this;

First of all, no crying please. I would like all crying to be replaced by laughter. Maybe laughing until you cry, but I want my life celebrated and not mourned. Be happy for what we shared and not sad that we will share it no more. Glass half full! I am not comfortable wearing a suit. I own many, several of the standard issue funeral black in fact. I do not want to be burried in one. No way! Lying there in eternity with that stupid tie wrapped around my neck? Screw that! And while we are on that subject, you don't have to wear one either. Why should you be uncomfortable while you are there thinking about me? You're welcome. Maybe wear your favorite baseball jersey, but let me get this straight. Hear me! Absolutely no San Francisco Giants jerseys are allowed. If I see one there, I may jump right out of the box and strangle the person wearing it. This is after all my funeral. And while we are on the subject of baseball, I would like each person who comes to get a bag of ballpark peanuts. I really like them, and even though I won't be enjoying them that day, there is no reason you should't. Anyway, on to the real estate. I am quite claustrophobic, so I really don't want to be in the ground. Too stuffy down there and how am I supposed to see anything? And when it rains I will get all wet. Not for me. I want to be in one of those stackable building deals. Seems like a good fit, but I am also acrophobic, so not too high please. I would like a decent view, but just not too high up. Now for my eternal clothing, I have given this a lot of thought. I am really most comfortable in shorts and flip flops, so those are a given. And some nice boxer briefs. I like how those feel, just tight enough in the right places but with enough support you-know-where. And as for the upper half, a nice dodger t-shirt please, covered by my most favorite sweatshirt of all time. I do need to keep warm in the frigid L.A. winter, with the shorts and all. Lisa once bought me a sweatshirt that says "Hailey and Cami's Daddy" on it. That goes with me for eternity!

Ok, so we are left with the eulogy. Now I do want a rabbi to lead the service, but none of the super deep religious stuff please. Kaddish is fine, and go ahead and dump some dirt on me (even though I will be on the third floor of hotel bu-bye) but nothing too overboard. I want as many people to talk as want to, but only those who will say nice things. I mean a funeral is no time to roast a guy. Come on!

I truly want people to talk about who I was to them. I hopefully was a good friend, brother, son, husband, boyfriend, whatever to them and I want to be remembered for that. Share stories about the fun we had together, and the many times that we likely laughed together. Talk about the times I listened when you needed an ear, tried to help you in any way I could. Talk about the times that I needed you and you did the same for me. I have spent my life striving to be a good person to others, to be generous and helpful to all. Have I always been? Likely not. But I want to be remebered as someone who had a good heart, made people laugh, and was kind and generous. I am not someone who cares about material things or "how much" people have. I will not be remebered as a hugely wealthy person from a finanical perspective and that is so ok with me. My girls are set up to be well taken care of, and that is all that matters to me finanicially. I want to be rememebered as someone rich in love. Someone with friends and family he cared deeply about and was loved by in return. But the one, single most important thing of all, if absolutely nothing else is said is so very clear to me. If someone stands up and says "Ron was a great father to his girls", then I will truly rest in peace. That folks can be a mic drop moment. My life will have served the purpose it was meant to and I can move into my third floor perma-hotel room with an eternal smile.

[ronsthoughts]

Bucket List

I think most people have one. Some spend more time thinking about them, others more time checking things off of them, and some rarely give them any thought. But I think we all have one. A bucket list. Those things we want to be sure we do before we "kick the bucket." Some bucket lists are filled with lofty goals so high that they are unlikely to be be attaned. Some are content to be filleed with the simple pleasures of everday life. Marriage, children, vactions, etc. Some people have one that is doable, for the sole purpose of following through with something they set out to do. We all know at least one of those.

I think many people equate what they accomplish on their list to how successful their life will be looked upon after they are gone. Perhaps ones eulogy might contain information on their list and how much of it they attained. Like a status symbol kind of thing. People seem to always be trying to reach a certain "status" in other peoples eyes. I couldnt agree any less with this strategy, as I believe there are much more important things to be remembered for than the places we went, how much we had or what kind of car we drove. But I'll leave that for another post. (Hey a good idea for another post!)

For many years I had a lot of items on my bucket list that I wanted to accomplish but assumed would never happen. It was sad, really. It wasnt so much about giving up on my list as it was giving up on where I was in my life and that I just assumed I would never have the opportunity to do them for one reason or another. I was really dead inside in many ways although I'm not sure I fully realized just how dead I was. Again, quite sad. I had accomplished the simple things I had always wanted. To be married and have wonderful children. Check. But there needed to be more! I always wanted to see Europe. The collesium in Rome, The Eifel Tower, The Duomo in Florence, Venice, etc. I have seen all of that and I am so glad I did it at a time before I was tied down by marriage, kids, etc. I want to go back there someday, but no longer on my bucket list. Same for Israel. Check! I very much want to see other countries and travel the world at some point. I also want to see many cities and sights, and ballparks, in the US. I checked off Chicago and Wrigley Field a couple years ago and Boston's Fenway Park is next on the list. I have always wanted to go to Jazzfest in New Orleans and just checked that off last weekend (which is likely why I thought of writing this today). There are many other places and things I want to do for me. Now if I can just start focusing on me just a wee bit more!

My view on my bucket list has changed a lot in the last few years as my life has dramatically changed. I used to feel guilty for having a list of things that I wanted for ME. Why? I really have no idea. I was so programmed for so many years to put others before myself that I literally felt guilty having dreams and goals for myself. In my several years of post marriage therapy, I have begun to accept that wanting things for just me is not a bad thing and doesn't make me a bad person. I can still be a great daddy, boyfriend, brother, son and friend while keeping my eyes open to things that I want for ME. It's ok. So I have stared to carve out some time for small things that I want to do for myself. It can be as simple as playing baseball with the guys on a Sunday morning, or carving out a weekend to go to Big Sur with my Yael. But at the end of the day, I just want to be happy. Happiness is always the pursuit, for me, my girls and friends/family. Do I want to see more of the world, to reach certain goals in my career etc? Of course. But when it's time to cash in my chips at the pearly gates, if I can look back and say I lived a happy life, regardless of what I saw, did or had, that will be just fine by me.

[ronsthoughts]

Being Daddy

My mom always called her father daddy. Even years after he was gone, and to this day, she refers to him as daddy. When I was a little kid, I never really thought about it. It was just the way it was. And then one day, when I was about 12 years old, I had a random conversation with her that would change my life in ways that I couldn't comprehend at the time. We were on a family camping trip, at a beautiful campground close to the beach. Our family trips were great fun and have provided many wonderful stories, but this one provided a whole new idea for me about who I wanted to be. While my dad and siblings played in the surf, my mom and I sat on the beach having a nice chat about this and that. She was telling me a story about her childhood, I honestly don't remember the subject matter, when she mentioned her daddy. I asked her why she always called him daddy, even as an adult, instead of "dad" or "my father." I remember her response like it was yesterday. It was immediate, without pause and so very deep without really trying to be. She said "well, because any man can be a father, but it takes someone very very special to be a daddy. And my daddy is very special!"

She was right. He was very special indeed. Grandpa Dave, as I called him, was very much like me. Or I guess I should say that I am very much like he was. He, like me, had two girls who were the apples of his eye, his everything. The mere mention of them could bring tears to his eyes. He was very outgoing and social, a man's man on the outside and a goosh ball on the inside. He loved sports, keeping fit and hanging out with the guys, but could also tear up at a well crafted Hallmark commercial. Yes, very much like me. But to his girls, he didn't just get the title of daddy, he earned it.

From the moment of that conversation that beautiful summer day so long ago, I wanted to be that. Daddy. I wanted to be other things too, some I have and some I have not, but daddy was always at the top of the list. I knew that I would have the chance someday, but also understood very clearly that the title of daddy would need to be earned. My dad, although I do not call him daddy anymore, was and is my greatest role model for how to be an incredible father to your kids. There is not one person on this planet who I respect more than my dad. Why? Because he has earned it. Always there for my mom and his 4 kids. Somewhat quiet and un-assuming, always kind and generous, loving and supportive, there is nobody who has taught me more about striving to be a good man, and father, than him.

I think the biggest testament to both of my parents became clear to me when my Hailey was born. My wife had pretty severe post-partem depression and spent the first few months filled with stress and self doubt about her ability to be a mom. For me? It all just came to me, completely and totally naturally. It was as though I had been parenting for years, wired the right way and with all of the necessary toolsand knowledge for each circumstance we faced. Now, this isn't to say that I was always right. I wasn't. But in most cases I just knew in my heart what to do, and how to love Hailey totally and completely unconditionally. By the time Cam came into the picture, I was an old pro and hungry for more. (I always wanted 4 kids, as I had come from, but that was not meant to be). Their early years were filled the wonder of discovery. Reading books before bed, playing dolls with them, bath time where we sang silly songs and they talked about their days, and just simply sitting on the couch cuddling were among the happiest times of my life. I tried to be there for every soccer game, volleyball, softball, school plays and holiday performances, back-to-school nights and tear soaked graduations. I can't remember a time in those early years when oneof them was't "uppy" in my arms or riding high on daddy's shoulders. That, that folks is the good stuff.

Anyone who knows me also knows that my girls are my everything. I would do anything for them. When they're happy, I'm happy, when they hurt, I hurt right along with them. But the most challenging part for me has been the years as they get older, learning when to back off and let them figure things out for themselves. As they have grown into young adults, who will one day have their own children (and then I get to be Grand-Daddy!) I must continue to be there for them, but ever aware of their need to be strong, vibrant, and independent women who can take care of themselves. They still need their daddy, but the ways they need me has changed and I have done my best to adjust my role with their growth. Keys to dad's car, a few bucks for some clothes or makeup, or advice on how to handle a new situation. Recently, one of my girls has faced a huge personal challenge that has for the very first time in my 23 years of parenting pushed me outside of my comfort zone. For the first time I have been truly scared and have at times not known what to do. While I have spent hours researching and connecting with experts in their field, talking to to educators and advisors alike, I have relied on that same natural instinct that was passed to me by my amazing parents. I would do anyting to take the pain away. Anything, as any daddy would. And I am trusting my gut and doing my best to guide her through it.

My girls have truly made my dreams come true and I will be forever in debt to them for the joy they contuinue to bring me every day. I have enough memories in my brain to make me smile, and perhaps tear up a bit to last a lifetime. Have I earned the title of daddy? I think I have done the very best I can, always putting their needs before my own, and gone with my natural instinct to give them the very best life to look back on and the tools to take on the future. I will love them endlessly until my last breath on earth. But Daddy? In the end, that will be up to them.

[ronsthoughts]

The Greatest Game

What is a game? The official definition listed states that it is "a form of play, or sport, especially a competitive one, played according to rules and decided by skill, strength, or luck." Those things are true, and many board games, card games, and sports exemplify that definition. Some require more luck than skill, more strength than luck, or any combination of the three. But there is one game that adds a few to that list that no other game can, that truly transcends them. Beauty, tradition, perfection.

Baseball is more than just a game. It is a beautiful and time honored part of American history. It has been around since the mid 1800's, and always a part of our lives. When times are good and people are happy, baseball is there to remind us that there is much more to life than the daily grind. When times are bad, baseball serves as a unifier, a common denominator that can remind us of what is good in the world. I see baseball as an artform, one that paints the canvas with complex and vibrant strokes of color, which are never the same twice, and with endings beautifully unknown. It is simple at it's base, yet incredibly complex at it's core.

In September 2001, when the United States had just experienced the worst tragedy in our history, it was baseball that brought us together and gave us the strength to go on. All major sports suspended play for the 6 days following the attacks, and when games resumed, Yankee Stadium, the cathedral of the game, became the center of the universe. Millions of people watched to see the kings of that cathedral, Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, Jorge Posada and company set the example for American pride by simply taking the field and playing ball. There was unlikely a dry eye in the country when the Star Spangled Banner played before the game, and cameras showed the players, surviving first responders, and every day people like you and I, singing loudly and with the pride of America in their voice.

And on the subject of songs, let's take a moment to discuss the amazing tradition that takes part in every single professional baseball game. Written back in 1908, Take Me Out To The Ballgame is the integral part of the traditional 7th inning stretch, when all fans drop what they are doing in the middle of the inning and belt out the tune that has become as American as apple pie. There is no other sport (in the U.S.) where everyone joins in song in the middle of a game. Beauty, Tradition, Perfection.

In recent years the game has changed. Huge corporations have purchased most of the teams, infusing millions, sometimes billions, of dollars into the game. This has resulted in inflated ticket prices and other expenses that make it hard for the average American family to attend a game. And the invent of analytics a few years back has made the game more scientific at times than natural. With the teams competing with other major sports for revenue, speeding up the games has been a hot topic of conversation as have potential technology to call balls and strikes. While I am against these types of changes, I do realize that the game must modernize to stay competive.

But to me, it's still beautiful and pure. The smell of the grass, the crack of the bat, the spreaidng of the chalk down the lines. There is really nothing like it. And for the young boys (and girls!) who dream of taking the mound or coming up to bat at Yankee Stadium, little league helps them to learn discipline, teamwork, and that hard work is necessary to be the best. I grew up with baseball from the time I was a little boy. There was absolutely nothing better than simply having a catch with my dad or my brothers. Beautiful, traditional, and absolutely perfect.

[ronsthoughts]

An Angel From Heaven

Jewish teachings, and the tradition in which I was raised, don't give much credence to the concept of heaven and hell. And thusly, An Angel From Heaven seems an odd title for a blog post written by a nice Jewish man from Los Angeles. But to me the concept of angels equates to people in the world who do good things for others. Tzedakah, or charity, is an angelic thing to do, or something as simple as listening to a friend in need and giving them the support and guidance to get through what ails them.

But my soul was blessed early last year by another type of Angel. One who stole my heart. I was in the midst of a personal meltdown. A job transition was taking longer than I had thought, causing financial concerns, and my newly found loneliness and the stress around that were taking their toll on me. And I am a person who doesn’t embrace being alone as some do. Don't get me wrong, I really like me, but I am just more comfortable being part of a we. I was literally looking for love in all the wrong places. I was dating endlessly with no real game plan, because I thought that was what I was supposed to be doing. It was a frustrating world that I didn't belong in and the more I went out, the more I disliked it. I reconnected with someone from my past, thinking that she was my destiny, and that with the right amount of time destiny would prevail. I was wrong.

So I stopped looking. I decided to force myself to be alone for a while at the urging of, well, everyone I knew! But as is often the case, when you stop looking for something, that something tends to appear. And in my case it did. It was an Angel. I was out with my daughter late one night, when I received a random text from an old friend I hadn't spoken to in some time. She sent me a picture of a longtime friend of hers, explaining that this person was newly single, and wanted to see if I was interested in meeting her. I remember the picture well. She was beautiful, with long strawberry blonde hair, an amazing smile and just a little hint of sass. After pressing my friend for some details, I readily took her number and decided to give her a call. Now I have seen enough movies to know that a guy is not supposed to call a girl before at least three days have gone by. So this being the era of texting, I decided to give that mode of communication a whirl before reaching out. Was I playing it cool, or did I just really have no clue what I was doing? Who knows. But somehow she agreed to a phone call and we talked on a Sunday evening. I liked her immediately. She was smart, funny, direct and totally adorable. We made plans to get together for brunch the following week.

Being that this was my first day date, and that it was a spring like 75 degrees in Los Angeles (in February!), I decided to go casual, my usual uniform of shorts, T-shirt and flip flops. I was determined to be me, like it or not. And this woman wasn’t likely going to be long term anyway, as I had already decided that "Destiny" mentioned above was to fill that space. Again, I was wrong. She came walking in, (I got there first, as I always did, because I like to watch the walk in) and wow! She was beautiful, vibrant and let me just say, totally hot! After some concern that people would think I was her father (she is 12 years my junior) and that she would get carded for the bottomless mimosas we ordered, we settled in and started what would be an amazing conversation. She was a bit damaged, also the victim of a recent divorce, and kind of finding her way. But she was so filled with life, bursting at the seams with thoughts and ideas about things she wanted to do, see, and experience. I loved her energy and intelligence, her zest for living life to its fullest. And when I talked, she listened. I mean actually listened, heard me and took genuine interest in what I was saying. At one point, she stood to go to the bathroom and I got to see the full package. Yowza! This chick definitely took good care of her body, and I immediately wanted to take care of it too! We left with simple hug and no more ( I am of course a gentleman), and made plans to be in touch again.

After a successful second date, I texted her and said I would like to see her again later that week and was hit back with "I am not looking for a relationship.” I quickly replied that I wasn’t either so there was no problem. I, of course was totally lying! I dug her and wanted her to be mine. As the weeks and months went on, we spent a lot of time together and began getting closer. Our physical chemistry was immediate and magnetic, and dare I say, spectacular. But my heart was still lost, stuck in the past and not open to her. I liked her a lot, but just wasn't giving her the fullness of my heart that she deserved. I saw her as just a placeholder, a bridge to someone else and the deep love I was looking for. I even broke things off with her a couple times, determined to find that love and move my life forward. But what I didn’t realize was that the love I was looking for was right there staring at me the whole time. It was her, placeholder lady. She was here in my life to save me, to love me and to feed on the endless love that I had to give. SHE was my Angel From Heaven!

So after the last of the brief "break ups", I decided to open up my heart to her and give her all that she deserved. Now you should know, I am a very emotional dude, and have often been compared to the female genitalia when being described. I am very filled with love and not afraid to express my feelings. She was not used to this. At all. And it freaked her out at first. A lot. But in true tribute to my girl, she adapted and forced herself to be more open and vulnerable with her feelings. And we have now developed an amazing love for each other. We laugh together, sometimes at each other, and have formed such an amazing bond. She gets me, most of the time, and when she doesn’t she makes the effort to understand me. She is over flowing with love, so much that I think it surprises her sometimes. And her ability to take things as they come and live life to its fullest continues to amaze and teach me. She just plain makes me better!

My Yael is my Angel. Yes, I said her name. I want the whole world to know how very much I love this woman, and how much I truly feel that she saved me. She has put up with my crazy ass mood swings and emotional (she calls them cheesy) expressions of my love. When we are together, we have the ability to connect on such a high level of love, without speaking a word, that it brings tears to our eyes. Our connection, now far beyond just the physical (although that part remains amazing and gets better every time), continues to grow stronger every day. I have seen so much change in her in the last year, coming out of her shell and opening up her heart to me. Do we know what the long term future holds for us? Absolutely not. But I do know that every day I have my angel in my life is a good one for me.

[ronsthoughts]

The Bench That Changed My Life

It was a beautiful day. The last year had faded away and a new one had taken its place, filled with possibility and the wonder of the unknown. The previous one had taken me to seemingly endless new experiences and emotions. Acrophobic thrilling highs, as well as knife stabbing lows and every level in between. But this day was to be filled with love, giving and sharing for me and "my person". You see, this day was her birthday, and I had worked hard to make it a super special one for her, filled with memories to last a lifetime. It did not disappoint. But unfortunately, the lasting moment that stands out from that day is one that didn't provide the joy that the day otherwise did, but much pain and sadness in its aftermath. All stemming from a brief and seemingly fleeting conversation as we sat on a bench. The bench itself was beautiful. In the midst of a winding path, in a garden as serene as an Ansel Adams landscape, sitting quietly waiting on eager yet tired legs to take refuge on it for a quick breather. This bench would prove though to have powers beyond the immediate solace it could provide. And for me, those powers proved to be life changing.

But let me take you back to a few years before the bench entered my life. This person had come into my world completely unexpectedly. I was living my life on a treadmill, running furiously to capture something that was never really there. I was lost, although I didn't realize it, and had no idea that I needed to be saved until the savior appeared to me. We clicked instantly, forming a connected bond that felt good and safe, although in reality it was neither. It was actually quite the opposite. But although I knew it was wrong, we both did, it provided the liquid that two very thirsty people secretly craved. The energy from the connection was electric, and thusly right and wrong were out of focus in the moment and the view seemed quite clear from both our perspectives. A union was formed. Yes, it was formed at the expense of other people. Innocent and good people who didn't deserve to be the aftermath of our misdeeds, left in the wake of our new found love to pick up the pieces and not be taken out to sea.

While this person and I fell deeply in love, the collateral damage of the other players in this unlikely play held us back the entire time that we were on the stage that was our relationship. My own guilt and remorse attached to our untraditional beginning, while I tried so hard to handle it, proved to be more debilitating than I ever could have imagined. It affected me emotionally and physically, like carrying large sand bag on ones back 24 hours a day. But while we both struggled to navigate these external forces, the connection and love that we shared continued to be strong, to be enough. Until it no longer was.

When you spend over half of your life thinking you are destined to live a certain way, only to realize that there is more out there in the world for you, more of something that you have craved for longer than you can remember, it is painfully difficult to let go of that feeling once it has entered your life. For me, I tried to embrace the good and keep the challenging parts at bay, hopeful that things would "just work themselves out in time." That strategy proved to be unattainable.

So that day in January, now several years in the past, as we sat there on that beautiful bench, hand in hand, heart to heart, talking about our future, it happened. The stop sign that I didn’t see coming and that changed the course of my life forever. I have often quoted the phrase that "life is a journey and not a destination." I had learned up this point that one’s life path is never pre-determined, but that it plays itself out day by day, step by step. What started out as a loving conversation between two people in love to discuss their future journey together, ended up as a sharp left turn that I never saw coming. In the moment, when asked if I saw the external forces that were holding us back ever clearing a free path, I let my stress of the situation respond in a negative and non-believing fashion, which unknown to me at the time, set the stage for our demise. It was a small moment in an otherwise lovely day, but proved to be the turning point that took both of our lives in another direction entirely.

My response was honest in that moment. I gave the only fair and true answer that existed, which at the time was reality. Would time have changed the answer? Absolutely. Was I strong enough to say it back then? I was not. Months later, when this person and I went our separate ways, I was distraught and sad. My journey had re-defined itself just a couple years earlier and I was locked in for the long haul, and was now faced with again re-mapping the master plan and finding my next path.

I thought that this person was brought into my life to show me that the concept of a "my person" was indeed out there and the lifetime companion who I was really meant to be with existed. This was to be the love of my life, and she made me feel ways I never have before, as I know I did to her. But I now know that she wasn't supposed to be that at all. She was merely my vehicle, the one that was able to pry me loose from that endless treadmill, and show me that the deep love that I craved was possible with the right person. She just wasn't it. And as the months march on and I see who she has become, I am glad. While the unbonding of our souls was painful for me, and embracing the reality of what it truly was stung, it has ultimately made me stronger and better prepared for when my true "person" arrives in my life.

In the present, I am a couple months past a year into a union with an amazing woman, and once again very much in love. She is a true angel from heaven, sent to fill my heart up with the warm and fuzzy feelings that I so enjoy. Although a bit gun shy from my recent heartbreak and the callous way I was treated by someone I thought loved me, I am giving her full access to my heart and soul, and filling myself up on the sustenance that is hers. Is she "my person?" I am now smart and experienced enough to know that I don't have to know that answer today. I merely have to live each day, enjoy each moment, and take the journey as it comes. And maybe as my new love and I walk together through the beautiful garden that life can be, I should just keep walking instead of sitting on the next bench that crosses my path.

[ronsthoughts]

Teenager Number Two

It has been quite some time since I have posted here, but I hope to begin writing more now.  I mean, how could the world possibly not want to hear what I have to say, right?? As an update, teenager number one is turning 21 next week.  Twenty-friggin-one!  That must make me.....  Ok, next topic.  This post is dedicated to teenager number two in my life, my very special and wonderful Doodlebug (aka Buggie, Bug, and sometimes Junior).

This young lady made our family complete.  She was the icing on the cake.  The finishing touch.  The final act.  Ok, you get the point.  She was a silly little girl always bringing a smile to everyone's face and using her lineage well in becoming the class clown and ham among her friends and family.  But also quiet and shy at times, and often afraid of pretty much anything and super cautious.  I have never known a child with a bigger heart and more caring and compassion for others.  She is definitely one of the good ones and I completely adore her.

And then..... That bitch the Teenager Fairy came back and cast her evil spell again.  WTF?!     Once again, I found my sweet cuddly little lovey girl transform into a TEENAGER!! OY!  The room got messier, the kid got lazier, and the sense of entitlement flew right off the charts.  Suddenly, my job was apparently changed without any notice.  I guess I didn't get the memo that I was supposed to become her personal chauffer, chef, bank, and generally a fulltime servant.  Well that's the way she seems to see it anyway.  High School hit us like a ton of bricks.  New school, cheerleading, lots of new friends and boys.  BOYS!  Horrible little horny boys who want MY DAUGHTER!!  Did you create her?  Do provide a home for her?  Nay Nay!  This is MY baby.  Thankfully I have been through the whole boy thing before with Kid One, so I have some practice in this field.  Giving boy advice (which their mom is much better at), wiping the inevitable tears, and teaching her to be a strong and confident woman are all big jobs at this stage.  Not easy work for daddy, since he clearly knows nothing about boys, according to the teenager.  Um, I was one! Hello?  (and I still act like one much of my life).

Even in the teenage state, this is my baby!  I will love her, support her, teach and mentor her and guide her until my last breath on this earth.  And even though I annoy her, embarrass her (that part is particularly fun), am always wrong, and that she always knows better than me, I know she loves me too. And that, that is the good stuff!!

[ronsthoughts]

Thoughts on an Evil Condiment

Condiments are not something that people usually put much thought into.  You see them on restaurant tables or at a ballgame, and use the ones you like while skipping those that you don't.  For me, it is pretty much the same...with the exception of one.  Mustard!  I hate it!  I despise it!  I have nightmares about it!  It is the one member of the food world that I just can't stomach.  In fact, I can't even see or smell it without feeling nauseous.  There have been times that I have accidentally ingested this foul substance, and quickly followed it up with an even more foul vomiting session.    

I'm really not sure where it came from.  My parents both like it, as do some of my siblings.  I was never forced to eat it, and I don't think I have suppressed any inappropriate mustard related life incident.  It is just that as far back as I can remember, I was completely grossed out at any exposure to this poisonous stuff.  I just couldn't be around it.

Growing up in an upper middle class Jewish family in Los Angeles, there were certain pre-conceived food expectations that people had about the way I ate.  First, I tended to eat a lot.  Sometimes a whole lot.  It was always "look how cute Ronnie is with that huge plate of food" at the Passover or Thanksgiving table.   Or "look how cute chubby Ronnie is with those big husky legs".   (I always disliked that word, husky.  I know if really meant fat, they knew it really meant fat, why not just say fat.  We are really not fooling anyone here, folks.  And those "husky jeans" that I had to wear?  Nothing too cool about those!)  Anyway, people would always question not putting mustard on my pastrami, or bologna, or salami, or whatever.  "Really"?  "You are putting thousand Island on your pastrami"?  Way to make a kid feel like an outcast!  Thousand Island is basically just ketchup and mayonnaise.  Both very well respected condiments in their own right.  Don't I get any credit for that? 

These days as an adult, friends will always make sure that the mustard bottle lands in front of my plate as soon as we get to a restaurant.  Everyone gets a nice giggle at my expense.  Funny?  I suppose I can see the humor there, but how funny will it be when I barf all over them because of my horror?  Not so much.  So I say stop the insanity.  Respect the hater.  There is no way in heck that I am ever going to consume the condiment from hell.  Just not gonna happen!  I am cool with the ketchup on my hotdog, thousand island on my pastrami, and yes even the mayo on my turkey sandwich.  Just another thing that makes me me.  In this case, it is just fine to be a hater.   

[ronsthoughts]

Father of a Teenager

So, I am the very proud daddy of 2 wonderful girls.  They are both beautiful, smart, funny, and all of the other great things that we all think our kids are.  my little one (she is 11) is sweet and filled with life.  I will write about her another time.  It is the 17 year old that will be the subject of my thoughts today.

I am totally convinced that I was put on this planet for the sole purpose of being a daddy.  It is a role that I have cherished and enjoyed every minute of.  My eldest daughter was responsible for making that dream come true, and I will be forever in her debt for doing so. (Yes, my wife was obviously involved in the process as well.  This is not a biology lesson.  Focus!) From day one, she was the apple of my eye and has had me completely wrapped around her finger.  But a few years ago, something happened.  Something so very expected, but unfathomable.  So very natural, but terrifying at the same time....She became a teenager.  Now for those of you who have not yet experienced this phenomenon yet, beware!  The sweet little girl is still in there somewhere, and she does peek out from time to time with the occasion un-solicited smile or nicety. 

But the person living in my house now is really not her at all.  It is a grossly self absorbed, completely selfish, lazy, evil, manipulative soul.  She lives in the same room, wears the same clothes, and seems to physically resemble the other kid, but this teenager just cant be my daughter.   Is it possible that I am wrong and that the entire world is supposed to revolve around this person?  It's my first one so I really cant be sure, but I really don't think so.  This person is usually somewhat nice to me, but not so much to my wife.  And it seems that at a certain time of the month, they are both evil beings at the same time.  LUCKY ME!  Thank God for the 11 year old!  Although I am told there is a chance that she may join the ranks of the evil soon as well.  Oy!

My teenage daughter will start college in a year and will no longer be there for me to see every day.  In spite of the challenges that come along with her being a self absorbed teen, I will miss her greatly.  Yeah, she sometimes only talks to me when she wants money.  She sometimes rolls her eyes at me when I say something she doesn't like.  It is like pulling teeth to get her to do anything around the house, and I sometimes feel like she sleeps so much that she will miss a complete day.  But I love her.  She made me a daddy, and that is the greatest gift I could ever have received.