Piledrivers On Concrete
I grew up watching wrestling and reading wrestling magazines. I thought it was real. I learned Santa Claus was a myth before wrestling. Even when I knew it was staged, it was still real to me until I sat in the front row at the L.A. Sports Arena. I could hear them talking to each other. We were that close. It punched me from the inside. We ended up getting kicked out because my friend, Keebs, spat on Billy Jack Haynes back when he was out of the ring. I didn’t care. The curtain was raised, and I was standing there looking at a blank screen.
Crossing the Street
I played games of human Frogger in New York City growing up, dodging yellow cabs and bike messengers with the deftness of an experienced breakdancer about to pop-n-lock their way out of a traffic ticket. I felt so independent as a child, able to walk freely into the world and come home with a candy bar to assuage my loneliness.
Under Expectation
My mom used to make me breakfast in bed every morning when I was a tween and a teen. Occasionally, she would have to go to work early and would tell me the night before that I needed to make my own breakfast. Sometimes, it bothered me. She was working all the time and had cancer, and I was miffed because I wasn’t getting maple and brown sugar oatmeal in bed with orange juice. Brat.
Hammering Nails Into Clouds
Open political discourse has reached an abominable level. Actually, it’s been here for years. It looks like a thermometer that goes up to 100 degrees when it’s 112 in the shade in Scottsdale. Bursting at the seams. I stopped talking about politics and religion with people long ago, but not because I don’t like an intelligent back-and-forth conversation. It’s because people don’t like to play educational ping pong anymore. They like the buy that half-table that exists so they can hit the ball back and forth to themselves for hours while their like-minded friends watch on Twitch.
Back To School
The kids all looked so excited this morning. Maybe it’s because they know that no teacher will assign homework on the first day. Maybe it’s because they want to show off their new kicks. Maybe they are just happy to be out of their parents’ reach for a change. School is a form of freedom, but also a very tight restriction. Having to ask to use the bathroom makes you feel powerless.
The Effervescence of Modern Day
My whole life is a never-ending to-do list of things I don’t actually have to do. Maybe everything is aspirational at this age. Some might call it delusional. I want to be more like my cats. They seem to be free of appointments and genuinely happy relaxing until the end of time. Maybe I should also take breaks to chase bugs and pat tiny balls around on the ground with my off hand.
A Carnival of Mixed Emotions
I used to like going to sleep in mom’s bed when I woke up in the middle of the night. When my stepdad moved in with us, it was more awkward. So, a lot of the time, I would go into their room and sleep on the floor with my two dogs, Bert and Ernie. I felt lonely and wonderful at the same time.
Pulling At a String That Never Ends
A long time ago, I made the decision to stop pulling at strings that never end. When someone doesn’t want to answer, that is that. I am no longer in the business of investigation and would much rather spend my time shuffling my fantasy football roster at the last second on a late Sunday morning than trying to drill into steel to get a dixie cup of lukewarm water.
Things To Do When Idle
One time when I stopped taking Lexapro cold turkey while going through a divorce, I lost space and time. My body was sweating, and my mind was lucid dreaming while I sat in the living room trying to watch TV. It was as close to an alternative universe as I have ever been. I knew then that those drugs were not helping me. Sometimes you are just sad because you can’t see your kids every day and your life has lost so much meaning.
An Engine Of Motivation
Sometimes, it’s the subtle things that make us see the writing on the wall. Sometimes, we wear blinders so thick that the first line of the eye chart seems blurry to us. Sorry, Doc, I can’t make that out because it’s not something I want to see right now. I never liked wearing glasses.
The Difference Between House and Home
No one says, “Hey honey, I’m house.” Home is a state of mind. It was hard for anything to feel like home to me with my mom gone. Looking back, the difference between a house and a home, to me, was family. When I had my own family, I could’ve lived in a shack and still felt at home. Curated decorations help, but I still feel lonely when they are the only things to welcome me home.
Sticks and Bones
I could overhear her whisper-yelling at my dad and then ramping up the volume for my benefit while I huddled in the basement room playing Bubble Bobble on Nintendo. Pop, pop - it was a fun game. “You do everything for the little Jew boy.” I couldn’t argue with her. I was technically a Jew boy, and my dad did do everything for me. She never called him a Jew man.
Tiny Bits Of Randomness
We had a dog named Bo at my dad’s house growing up. I think it was my older stepbrother’s dog. He was a golden retriever. One summer, when we owned and managed the Cozy Cabins in the Hamptons, I remember him lying on the ground with a giant ice pack on his swollen testicles. I still don’t know what this was about. I always imagined him being a fancier dog if he was named Beau instead.
Handling a Stick On Fire
I like leaving text messages on read. I guess it’s a power move. I just don’t want to be forced to respond, and once I read the message, I am caught in that obligatory arena with no gloves and Jon Jones standing across from me, knowing that I mistakenly insulted his mother. I don’t want to spend my life in the octagon.
A Podcast In My Voicemail
I wish my dad left me a 23-minute message once that I could replay for the rest of my life. I wish my grandmother left me a voicemail telling me just how much sugar she used to put in my hot Lipton tea. I even wish my stepmother would text me in what would have been broken Swedelish to get “baloney” sandwiches on a roll with “butr.” I wish my mom just said my name.
The Daily Grind
I had oatmeal for breakfast. Every time I eat oatmeal, which is a lot, I remember when my mom took me on a cruise to Bermuda when she was sick. I was actually doing a commercial for Macy’s for Father’s Day. Everyone pinched my cheeks the whole cruise. She was sick and pretending to be seasick when she had cancer, so she sent me down to get breakfast on my own. I was maybe seven. I was so shy, I forgot to find the sugar when I got the oatmeal. The texture was gooey and clumpy; it was fantastic, but I had never had oatmeal without sugar. It tasted like cardboard. My mom couldn’t get out of bed.
Spoonfuls of Angst
My teenage years were a constant hustle. Hiding pimples, eating junk food, writing letters to girls, sports, warm beer, and spoonfuls of angst. I don’t know how I ended up with a flat top, but I did. My barber in Hightstown had shaky hands and smoked heaters the whole haircut. I don’t know how I survived. I think it was the freedom. I walked there from boarding school when I was off class. Then, maybe I walked and got pizza. I was drifting with the wind.
Jumping Up and Down
If you found a stray koala bear and brought her home, would you make sure she has everything she needs first, or would you share a photo of you and her on Instagram? This tells us everything we need to know about ourselves. Be honest.
The Life of a Circle
When I moved back to Brooklyn as an adult, I walked my kids to their school under the same awning where I grew up every morning. It gave me a personal jolt of happiness every time. If only my mom were still up there and could come down and walk with us.
Feeling the Years In a Fanny Pack
I’ve never worn a fanny pack, but I’ve also never thought they were uncool. I think they rip. They are like acid-washed jeans. I don’t want them, and I won’t get them, but they are cool. So was the vest I got at Chess King at the Buckland Hills Mall in college with my stepbrother. I once wore it out without a T-shirt underneath. Still not sure about that move. My arms were stacked at the time, though.