Letter

I was driving down the road the other day talking to my little brother about preparing to go on a mission. I found myself starting sentences with: 'when I went on my mission'...

I'm getting old. Age is just a number, right? At least that's what I tell myself.

Here are a couple of examples of some of those sentences:

'When I was on my mission we still used film cameras and had to get the film developed...now they have digital cameras.' Isn't that crazy? It makes me appreciate the camera I have now that much more.

or,

'When I was on my mission we had to hand-write all of our letters. It would usually take two weeks for the letter to get home and another two weeks to get a response. By the time the month had past any concerns from the original letter had already been resolved.'

While it would have been nice to have a nicer camera on my mission, I'm actually grateful that we still had to hand-write our letters. My family was nice enough to keep them all. To this day, the hand-written letters that I have received are among my most prized possessions. There is something about how personal they can be...they are more RAW and consequently more real. There is no delete key. Every word, every sentence has to be thought out before writing it.

I received one such letter on my birthday. In tiny blue ink in the lower left hand corner of the page is a quote from Henry David Thoreau:

"The most I can do for my friend is simply to be his friend. I have no wealth to bestow on him. If he knows that I am happy in loving him, he will want no other reward. Is not friendship divine in this?"

I have been abundantLY blessed by friendship. Because of it, I am a different person...a better one. Perhaps the greatest measure of friendship is the size of the void that is left in its absence...like the depth of a footprint and its indelible impression (impossible to be removed). Here's to you, CHEERS!

Serendipity

I've been told on a number of occasions that I bare a resemblance to John Cusack. He happens to be one of my favorite actors...maybe I'm a little vain. He's been in from of my favorite movies. Some of them are a little more on the 'weird' side than others.

About 5-6 years ago I saw the movie Serendipity for the first time. Out of curiosity, I looked up the etymology of the word serendipity. I always assumed it to be coterminous with the words fate and destiny. It turns out it's has a separate meaning. Perhaps that is why it was chosen as the name of the film.

The basic idea is that when we are in search of something we discover something entirely different...accidental discoveries.

In the movie Jonathan Trager is already in a committed relationship as is the girl he meets, Sara Thomas. At the end of a wonderful evening together, Jonathan suggests that they exchange phone numbers...Sara instead decides to leave everything up to 'fate'. She explains that if they are meant to be together they will find their way back into one another's life.

Neither one of them was looking for love they 'accidentaly discovered' it.

What is the correlation between seredipity and destiny? Is there one at all.

I spoke at length tonight with a friend who had come across three 'coincidences' this weekend that made him question the reason for those coincidences. Since similar thoughts had been on my mind this weekend, I asked him what he thought of them. I asked him if he attributed those coincidences to fate or destiny. He said, 'I believe we make our own fate, and choose our own destiny.' That sounds like a contradiction. Isn't it something that is determined for us? If it is determined for us who is it that makes those things happen?

If it's not fate or destiny...does everything really happen for a reason? If it does, it would be important to us to find out what that reason is but how do we do it? I certainly have my own thoughts and opinions but I will reserve those for now.

Clearing the air...

Here are some wonderful truths about me:

Sometimes, in moments of unoriginality, I use the words of other authors...but, often times I use their phrases in different contexts. For example, Tom Stoppards 'smell of smoke' is different than mine. He refers to the burning of bridges we've crossed, and I am speaking of the smoke coming from a red hot iron. Nothing depressing about that...

Along the lines of red hot irons, I often times find myself doing things to make sure that the brand of such irons remain.

I tell people that I had my tear ducts removed when I was young and that's why I don't cry. The truth is, I just pick weird times to cry. Like when the janitor runs out in front of the plane in The Terminal. I use the term cry lightly because it is usually confined to a few tears...but man does it feel good when it happens. What a release.

I also like to tell people that I have small feet because my mom used to wrap them up when I was younger so they wouldn't grow as quickly...that way she could save on the cost of buying shoes. Truth is...never happened.

For the most part, I don't think anyone makes better cookies than my mom. That's not to say that I don't like the cookies that other people make and, in some instance, some people can do it better than her. Luckily, she won't be reading this.

I hate the feel of fleece.

I was once told that I was 'emotionally detached'. The real truth is that I often times allow myself to get too attached but I don't consider it a bad thing. Some of the most meaningful friendships I've ever had have come from such attachments.

I used to have a yellow blanket with it white pieces of yarn.

I like my alone time but would gladly sacrifice it for some good conversation of just about anything...it's not the subject matter that is important but the person you're talking with that counts.

I used to have a variety of stuffed animals. I was the proud owner of a pound puppy, a cabbage patch kid, an penguin and a carebear. I had the blue bear with the storm cloud on it...that's either where my love of rainstorms came from, or my grumpy disposition.

Against my better judgment I find myself hoping for the long-shot...I always root for the underdog, the Dark Horse (James K. Polk), or the outcome that is least likely to happen. At least it keeps life interesting...even if it ends in disappointment.

There are things I would like to do but won't and should do but don't.

This list could probably go on forever...but I'll save it for the sequel.

Seatlle Part 1

The Ferry area in Bremerton has changed quite a bit since the last time I went. They have done some amazing things with the area and it sounds like there is more to come.

If you look closely, you can see that there are some etchings in the large propeller.





For some reason, I decided that I liked the Bird's Eye View of this photo.



It had already been a long day so we spent most of the 60-minute Ferry ride into Seattle asleep on one of the large benches. I woke up in time to get a picture of the city as we drew closer to it. Unfortunately, by the time we got to the city some of the main attractions (i.e. Pike's Place) were already closed.



But, I was still able to do what I wanted to do most...get some fresh clam chowder. While it is no secret it may still be a little-known fact that I have a strong affinity for clam chowder...and, the Pacific Northwest does it best. Each restaurant has its own variation of the delectable dish and each one seems to be just as good as the next. Ivar's was no exception. They have various locations but the one that I went to was at the Ferry Harbor/Pier in Seattle.



After eating our soup on the pier we took the leftover french fries outside to the hungry seagulls anxiously awaiting to be fed. Seagulls will allow you to get pretty close when there's a chance that you're bringing them food. I'll be the first to admit that I actually like pictures of seagulls but in this particular picture I like the blurred out boat in the background just a little bit more.



If you've never been to Seattle GO, if you have been GO BACK! I love that place.

Sunset in Seattle

Seattle is easily one of my favorite places to visit. In addition to the wonderful city, I have some of the most amazing friends that are just a ferry ride away. On the first night of my visit last week, some friends and I took the Ferry from Bremerton to Washington. Since it had been a long day I spent most of the ride to Seattle asleep on one of the long benches. After spending a couple of hours in the city we boarded the ferry for the return trip.

We made our way to the top of the ferry to get a better look at the sunset. As is often the case, the picture below will not do it justice. I believe it's because when you look at a picture, you're limited to your sense of sight...the others are left out except where imagination fills in the blanks. As you look at the picture below, try to use that imagination and picture yourself atop a large ferry in the middle of Puget Sound...you lean up against the cool steel railing as a soft gentle breeze caresses your face. You look out toward the horizon to see the sun bid a fond farewell to the day it leaves behind. Beneath you you can hear the sound of breaking waves as the ferry slowly makes its way through the water. You take a deep breath and fill your lungs with fresh air that cools and calms you as you do. A woman says more to herself than to you, 'I've never seen those hues of pink and purple in a sunset before,' and another man nearby sighs, 'this is what life is about...beautiful sunsets.' You silently agree as you grasp for your own elusive words to describe the sunset. You settle with the feelings of peace that it brings to you, and leave words for another day and turn your thoughts and attention to two sail boats drifting in the distance...

Hopefully that allows you to enjoy, at least in part, the wonderful Seattle sunset.