#ReOpenNC (Video)

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The Lighthouse

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Just searching for the shoreline. A bottom. Somewhere to stop bobbing, where stepping out of our vessels doesn’t require treading water. Wading or the possibility of drowning. Others want the tour. They want to walk up the long staircases. To see the shining mediocrity. Spectacles that we place in the middle of paintings. Manned or empty… Often it’s the idea of guidance. Lighthouses… For some a magnet. Others see the signal as a warning. They are trying to stay away. Seeking to stay back from the shore. Preventing their natural urges to run aground. Many of these structures have fallen. Some victim to the storm and the seas they are meant to serve purpose against. Time has eliminated the rest. Like great role models. Principles we use as our compass. Symbols recorded in our history... Conceptually we all have our lighthouses. They help illuminate boundaries. Like the ghosts of battlefields. Fallen beacons we carry in our hearts and minds. Perhaps a headstone. A photograph. R...
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Elder's Respect

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We'd been at the hospital four days waiting for the right circumstances. After induction, they kept a monitor on mother and child. Finally, they moved us just outside the delivery rooms. There were a few questions and rules of etiquette... Until the heart monitor began to show dangerously low readings. There would be no time to for the ideal. Our game plan changed instantaneously from traditional delivery to life saving surgery. In a twist of fate, the umbilical cord was wrapped around baby's neck. Mom's water had broken earlier, which sifted the child closer to a natural delivery. Unfortunately those movements continued to elevate the danger. Each shift dropped the pulse lower and created a race against time. In what may be the defining moment of her life... His mother told the operating room staff to do anything necessary to deliver our son. They said to change position and rolled her through the secure doors... A short while passed before meeting my son. Nurses assured m...
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State of Affairs

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  It hurts too much to write.  Putting everything into words requires a painful level of reflection.  Stationary pens don't take you to uncomfortable places.    ~ Michael L. Craver   2025, my home has fewer material objects. The freezer is full of vegetables and pizza; the cabinet is stocked with cigars. Sitting by the open summer window during the hottest year on record. Thermostat on 81. Work is Monday through Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Ninety percent of my musical choices are instrumental. Pianos or violins play as the quiet house remains stress free. Sleeping when the mood hits, with no consistent amount or routine. Resting in my ergonomic office chair or the twin bed in my spare room. I’ve known it since I was 15. Why not a new one? What’s the difference… Missing the dogs, but not the mess. Tool sit still while the world turns. Last Summer was full of projects. Fresh leather for wrestling belts indoors and trail maintenance to abs...
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