I have begun work on my book of poetry, a project it turns out I have attempted at least twice before. I managed to self-publish a few copies of an early book of poems way back in the before times of 2006. Then again in 2009 I started to put together another collection that ultimately went nowhere. Twelve years later, I’m at it again.
The good news is that my collection of poetry has grown since then. I’ve had a few instances of intentional poetry writing, and mostly know where all of those poems now live. The bad news is that many of my old poems are truly terribly. They aren’t so melodramatic (some are) or over-wrought (some are) but they are so much word salad. It appears that I was being so reductionist in some of my early work that I would merely regurgitate words onto the page, arrange them so, and call it a poem. The ideas mostly come through, but the execution is execrable.
Thus begins my work. I am sorting through the really old poems in recent days. Some, I am simply deleting. Don’t worry, future archivists, nothing valuable is being lost. Trust me. Others, I am re-working. Keeping a copy of the original, I am re-writing the poem as needed to produce something that current me, and hopefully future me as well, will be happy with. If nothing else, I will have recorded a progression of the poem through time. But I truly think I have matured as a writer and have a better handle on technique and the methods of communication that are so important to good poetry writing.
While some may balk at the idea of re-painting an old piece of artwork, or scraping the canvas to start again, at least in this digital age the original can continue unharmed. Using the tools of my era, I neither have to erase or eradicate the original to create an updated poem. JRR Tolkien would frequently update manuscripts and early drafts of the Lord of the Rings and other works. His son Christopher Tolkien often spoke of how difficult it was to decipher early versions of his dad’s stories because the elder Tolkien would erase early pencil drafts or simply write over it in ink. At least for me, the digital landscape affords me a clean way to write and re-write.
Poems that don’t require revision I can organize for insertion into my collection. While there are precious few of those, at least there are some. I am also still trying to tease out any themes or commonalities in my poetry so that I can order them into groups. I have noticed quite a few nature poems, in the vein of Robert Frost (and others) that I can put together. I know I have a bunch of pop-culture poetry that will go together. The others? Well, I’ve got more work ahead of me.
In all, I am thoroughly enjoying the work, which is great for the continuation of labor. I wasn’t sure if this project would be a drudgery or a delight, but it is definitely the latter. I have given myself six months to complete this task, and have high hopes that I can meet my deadline. And here I will leave you with a little tone poem for winter, one of my pastoral poems that I re-worked yesterday. I hope you like it.
Waiting
naked trees wave slender fingers through frigid breezes
a grey forest lies deep in snow a meadow slumbers
silent sentinels watch for warmth under peaks of ice
From an airplane yesterday, I marveled at the modern world that we live in. The Wright brothers flew at Kitty Hawk in December of 1903. The first commercial flight was only 11 years later on January 1, 1914, which was 107 years ago. Since then aircraft circle the globe on regular schedules every day.
I was struck by the majesty contained in the principles of flight as the plane lifted off the ground Saturday morning. It isn’t a subject I know much about all, so I won’t try to pontificate. But it amazes me that a huge aircraft, full of people and luggage, can get off the ground, much less soar for hundreds of miles (in our case).
Humanity has dreamed of flying since before the legend of Icarus. Fortunately our metal wings didn’t melt as we approached the sun yesterday. But I did text a friend and stream a movie and play a game of Scrabble all from the comfort of my own seat 30,000 feet in the air. The thing about our modern technologically set world is that we often take for granted all the wonders that we enjoy.
Take the covid-19 vaccine, for example (and you really should take yours). It is a wonder of modern science that we can engineer a serum (which is probably the wrong word – I know less about microbiology than I do flight) that is able to protect people from a deadly virus. I don’t know how many people aboard the flight yesterday were vaccinated, but every one wore a mask, so there was some barrier against the continued spread of the disease. But I and my wife are fully vaccinated, and I was as glad for that shield as I was about the forces that kept my plane from plunging into the ground. Both protected me from death, and both are grounded in the same thing: science.
As I type on a keyboard connected to a tablet by wireless means, and then in a few minutes I will transmit my thoughts to a world that can read them, again, mostly without wires, I am impressed. Electrons, energy fields, vaccines, flight: all to a pre-modern person would seem as so much magic, but we can understand them relatively easily. Schools exist to teach science so future generations can create even more incredible technology for our entertainment, travel, and personal safety. In less than 200 years, we have flow an aircraft across a beach and a small helicopter across the surface of Mars. We have eradicated many illnesses with a simple shot. We can watch Shrek on an iPad from 30,000 feet.
Mind. Blown.
I actually meant to write this from my airplane seat, but the mundanity of the modern world prevented me. I was a little tired, the plane engines were loud and distracting, and I mostly relaxed by listening to music. But even doing that much is still amazing. I think many things have prevented people from feeling safe about the certainty that is the covid-19 vaccine. I am sure in 1914 that many people were reluctant to board an airplane as well. Music lovers sitting in concert halls listening to live music in the before times were unable to imagine listening to recorded music, much less on devices such as iPads and Bluetooth headphones. But humanity progresses. Without that, we would die of stagnation.
Think about that next time you fire up some music, go out in public without worrying about smallpox, or board an aircraft for your next vacation. Science has built the world we live in, and will build the future. And it is fantastic. I grew up without polio, the internet, or self-driving cars. I wonder what will happen next!
I recently wrote about my venture into podcasts. Along the way I ruminated on the possibility of starting my own podcast. That is very much a project I would like to start.
What would I podcast about? At the moment I am considering making my podcast an extension of my blog: a simple man, talking about what interests him. If you have any thoughts about particular topics to podcast about, please do contact me. I am intrigued about the idea of booking guests to discuss specific ideas. I think Zoom and some other conferencing software can record audio reasonably well, so that may make remote podcasting possible, a necessary requirement.
Speaking of technology, I need to research proper equipment. I have headphones, but I need a quality noise cancelling microphone to capture my audio, at least, right? Do I need a physical mixer? Do I need a pop filter? Should I do video? If so, I need a camera, or could I use my iPhone? All these questions need answering. If anyone has recommendations for tech, send those along. I can use all the help I can get.
The RedBeard Podcast
The above picture is my podcast cover art, at least for now. The equipment shown is from when I tried to podcast before. I no longer have that microphone or pop filter, unfortunately. Podcasting remains a project in active pre-production.
While I prepare the podcast, another creative project that I have thought about for a long time is being moved up into active production: a book of poetry. I have many poems sitting around waiting for an audience. I thought I would give them one.
I’ve been writing poetry since I was a teenager, and while some of those poems survive, they aren’t my best work. I started writing in earnest when I reached university and studied English literature and composition. Since then I have intentionally written many poems on a variety of themes. I have played with structure and form. I think I have enough poems for a collection.
I have a week of vacation coming up, and I’ve been thinking of beginning work on this literary project while I rest from my day job and other regular activities. I need to start by collecting all my poems under one roof. Some of them are on my iCloud Drive in a folder. Some are in the Notes app. Others exist only on this blog. Still more are scattered in a few notebooks that I have, somewhere. That will be a job in and of itself.
Next, I need to group the poems by subject. Given what I know I have, that makes most sense right now. Then I would spend time to figure out a theme and structure to the overall collection. Finally, the task would be format. I would like to include a little bit about the writing of several poems, similar to what I did with a recent one here on my blog. Doing that would result in a mix of poesy and prose, which is fine. Clearly there are many decisions to make.
Finally, I want to design the book and release it on Apple Books and in Kindle format, so I could place it on both Amazon and Apple. If I could figure out a print-on-demand service, that would be fantastic! I’d love for readers to have the choice to order physical copies as well as download digital versions. Again, I ask for help. If you’ve done any of this, and have tips or advice, I’d be grateful for any suggestions.
It looks as if the rest of my summer and my autumn will be busy. Not only will I be working on my book of poetry (due in December), researching my burgeoning podcast (launching in January?), but I am also helping my wife write a book (due in October) and working two part time jobs. But it is good to have things to do, especially for me. I struggle with knowing what to work on sometimes, and projects with deadlines help focus my energy.
I’ve often wondered what I have “accomplished” with my life, and lately two thoughts have emerged in my mind. First, life isn’t about accomplishments. It’s about enjoying the journey and making the world the best you can while you are at it. Second, people “accomplish” things at all ages and stages of life. My thirties are simply where I start in earnest. With that in mind, consider this my launch event.
As Of Yet Untitled: A Collection of Poetry: Coming Winter 2021!
Simone Biles. The greatest gymnast of all time. I cannot say I’ve been watching her compete, but I have been following her rise to prominence as the buzz about her has spread.
All my life my mother has been fascinated by gymnastics and the Olympic gymnasts. I remember watching the Magnificent Seven compete in the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta. Those were some talented women, so to say that Simone Biles has outperformed them is an accomplishment in and of itself.
But the recent news about Simone Biles choosing to not compete has some scratching their heads. How can the greatest gymnast not compete in the greatest competition of her time? It all comes down to mental health. A person can be in peak physical form, and need help mentally.
As someone who struggles daily with mental health, I can tell you that it is no simple thing to lay aside the thoughts in one’s own head and do anything, much less complicated, and make no mistake, dangerous, physical feats of athleticism. Some days I cannot even get out of bed, much less flips in the air and land on my feet without shattering them. Granted, I am no Simone Biles, but I think the point is made. She couldn’t. And if the greatest of all time can’t, and does the best thing for her mental health, that is something to be applauded.
Too many are too quick to judge her, or worse, call her weak for choosing to prioritize herself, her whole self, rather than compete. I do not understand those kinds of people. Who among us hasn’t struggled even a little bit? and those who fight every day understand the larger struggles.
I have been applauding myself for continuing to write on my blog, for getting things done around the house consistently, for picking up a book and reading, and other things. For me, these are sometimes Herculean tasks. For me, it is never a simple thing to just empty the dishwasher or take a shower. It is always a mental fight to get myself to do things I think other people can just do without thinking. My head is not always a nice place to inhabit.
Currently I’ve been fighting anxiety and fear, on top of my depression. So many “little” things have been going wrong lately that they are starting to become a few big things in the aggregate. Ordinarily, as I have trouble handling the routine, handling one crisis of any size is a stretch. This past week and a half has seen several crises arise. And I feel myself going under the swells. I’ve reacted badly at times. I’ve managed to make a plan to cover the eventualities, but inside, I am a wreck. I feel threadbare and worn out, and it is only Wednesday.
Why recount this? Because of Simone Biles. If she can prioritize her mental health over Olympic perfection with the entire world watching and judging her, maybe I can have the courage to speak out about what I am struggling with. Maybe I can have the courage to give myself grace in the midst of storms and let myself feel what I feel. I am certain that for Simone to give up gold, which she probably would have won, was not easy. At all. Who could resist the temptation to be known as the best at what they do? A true champion of the world. That is who Simone Biles is. I won’t probably be the champion of anything in my life, but if I can get through today, that is winning.
There is a saying about being “worth more than gold”. In this context, gold is the pinnacle of Olympic achievement. For me, Simone Biles won gold in Tokyo by having the fortitude to stand down from competition. I can win gold for myself today by doing what I need to do, be that sit with my anxiety for a few hours, or “accomplish” something. Because that is what it is all about: being the best version of yourself that you can be. And that varies day to day, moment by moment. Go out and win your gold today. Do what you need to do to take care of yourself, physically, mentally, and in all other ways. I am sure that Simone would say it was worth it all.
Baseball is replete with turning points. Change has always been part of the game. Today my favorite baseball team announced a change. They are rebranding and retiring a name that has been a part of their history for well over 100 years. But to understand why they are changing their name requires looking back at some parts of their history that have been overlooked and forgotten. To build a better future means understanding, acknowledging, and repairing the vestiges of a troubled past.
In America’s mid-west, there lies a city on the shores of Lake Erie called Cleveland. There men have played baseball since at least 1857 as amateurs. Eventually semi-pro and professional teams were established to compete for championships and glory.
Within the white lines of baseball’s green and brown diamond, men have struggled to win with clubs and gloves and a little red and white ball. The game has changed a lot in that time, both in the way it has been played, and with the men who have played it. Some have endured horrible, racially motivated aggression just to compete in a sport they love.
Larry Doby comes to mind as baseball’s second African American player, signed by Cleveland’s baseball team in 1947, just three months after Jackie Robinson signed with the Brooklyn Dodgers. It wasn’t until 1975 that Cleveland signed Frank Robinson, who became the first African American manager of a major league team. All three men suffered from a racism and it’s effects. But they weren’t the first to endure vitriol because of race.
Fifty years before them, a little know player named Louis Sockalexis played for a dismal little team known as the Spiders in 1897. Two years later, a pejorative nickname for that team arose: the Indians. This was to deride the lackluster player Sockalexis who was part of the Penobscot Nation of Maine. Sockalexis wasn’t a consistently great player, but he didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of hatred because of his race. The team then known as the Indians disbanded after the 1899 season, and it wasn’t until 1914 that the epithetic name was re-introduced.
Here I confront my own inherent racism and white blindness. I thought that Cleveland’s first Native American player was Nap Lajoie, a man who carried the team and lent it a name for twelve years. Lajoie was in fact of French decent, and his name was short for Napoleon. I had never heard the name Louis Sockalexis until today when I was doing research. I had always heard and believed that Cleveland adopted the name “Indians” out of respect for their first Native American player. Such a rosy picture of Cleveland’s past could not be true in light of how America in general has treated non-white people. Sadly, according to what I found, Sockalexis had a very rough time as a baseball player, something that would be repeated for Larry Doby, and Frank Robinson after him. For many years players in Cleveland endured hatred because of their race.
Even in that dark, racial turmoil, there is a glimpse of a brighter future to be seen. The Cleveland baseball team was forward thinking enough in 1897, and 1947, and 1975 to hire each of their non-white players, and manager, despite public opinion and public animosity to the contrary. The executives and owners of each of those teams at least put baseball first and damned the consequences to sign men who weren’t going to be popular with their fan base.
A thing can be a part of your history, and a part of your fondest memories, and even cherished, and still need to be set aside to build something better. I am not trying to say that all Cleveland baseball fans are racist. I am not trying to say that they intentionally denigrated Native Americans by embracing the Indians name or the Chief Wahoo logo. But if even one person was hurt by that name, or caricature, then is it not worth setting aside for their peace and inclusion? Surely Louis Sockalexis had a terrible time as a player on the Cleveland Spiders, and many have not enjoyed their culture being used as a sports mascot. So is it not better to set aside history, not to destroy what is loved, but to build a better future that will endure?
I understand the legacy of history. I grew up a Cleveland baseball fan because my mother grew up a Cleveland baseball fan because her father grew up a Cleveland baseball fan. I remember stories she told of being taken to games with my grandfather. I haven’t been dissuaded from my love of the Cleveland team despite them losing the World Series in 1995, 1997, and 2016. I will always love the Cleveland baseball team until the day I die. But I haven’t always loved their name.
I did love the Cleveland Indians name and logo as a child. But as I grew older, and learned about racism, and how the name “Indians” was pejorative at best and racist at worst, I had trouble even saying the name to others. I used to proudly display a Confederate flag as a part of my southern heritage, but once I learned how that hurt my African American friends, and that the Confederate flag is a symbol of racism, I could no longer even own that flag. As that symbol must be set aside, and never again raised, so too the Indians name must be laid to rest.
And that is what Cleveland has done. They are retiring their baseball team’s name, their identity, their brand in an effort to do better. They are acknowledging the hurt, the racism, and the sadness that their legacy has perpetuated and they are making strides to go forward into an inclusive future. Starting in 2022, the Cleveland Guardians will take the field.
Names change. The Cleveland teams were once the Blues, the Naps, the Spiders, the Lake Shores. Now they are the Guardians. Guardians of Cleveland as a city for all to live and love baseball as racial equals. Guardians of a better tomorrow. The name change isn’t popular. When Cleveland retired the Chief Wahoo logo in 2019, many of their fans were very unhappy. Today many of those same fans are upset again. But that should, and will, pass. A name may seem to be just a name, but it can also be so much more. It can be pejorative, demeaning, even racist. Or it can be uplifting, a symbol of strength, and a call to something greater than each of us. That is what the Guardians’ name should mean. That is what it represents for me. It is a reminder to me to put aside, again, my prejudices and preconceptions and to reach for something better.
I’m not perfect. But I hope that I can be better today than I was yesterday. And as I cheer for the Cleveland Guardians in 2022 and beyond, may I never forget the Cleveland Indians and Louis Sockalexis, Larry Doby, and Frank Robinson, and all their other non-white players who have struggled to enjoy what I, a white man, enjoy: a life free from hatred, violence, and racism. I’ve never known the struggles they faced, and I hope with all my being for, and strive to work towards, a future in which each child born will never know those struggles, both in baseball and in Cleveland, and in the world. I hope to be a Guardian of a free future for all.
My life is becoming more interesting lately. I’m allowing myself to branch out into various directions in terms of what I spend my time doing.
I’m hardly breaking new ground here, but I’ve gotten into podcasts. I know, a billion people listen to them and it seems like a billion people are making them these days, and while that sentence makes it seem like a bad thing, that is a great thing. That means that there are endless avenues of entertainment, exploration, and excitement.
I’ve subscribed to a few podcasts, among them are The Friendship Onion with former hobbits Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan, Gates McFadden InvestiGates, and Did You Get My Text? with Patton Oswalt and Meredith Salenger.
At the moment I’ve only listened to one of those. I am still dipping my toes into podcast listening. That is, I have listened to podcasts in the past, but only sporadically. I am still trying to order my time so that I have a regular podcast listening habit, and the one podcast I am currently enjoying was easy to jump into. I don’t like doing something else while I am listening, mostly because I find my attention wandering and then I am like “what did they just say?” and I realize that I missed twenty minutes of the discussion. And if I am going to listen, I want to do it intentionally.
Enough preamble. Did You Get My Text? with Patton Oswalt and Meredith Salenger is hilarious, touching, and puts warmth into my heart. While Patton and Meredith are married, and live together, they often don’t get a chance to talk face to face, and instead end up texting each other profusely throughout the day. They decided to be intentional about talking together and make a podcast at the same time. The idea of the show is them discussing their texts, but they often wander afield and end up discussing almost anything.
Did I mention it’s hilarious? Yeah, Patton is a famous comedian, but the podcast isn’t him doing stand-up comedy. It is just he and his wife being genuinely funny. They are also sweet to each other, and you can feel the relationship they have being carried on the audio waves. It feels like you have stepped into their living room and are just listening to them talk. But not in a creepy way: they’ve invited you in. You are sipping your beverage of choice, and don’t really have anything to add to the conversation. It’s great.
Their podcast is a little Not Safe For Work. Patton tends to swear, not in a mean, angry way, just in a by-the-way way. If you’ve seen any of his specials (I think there are few on Netflix?) you know what I mean. Meredith swears too, though not as often. Also, their podcast is apparently sponsored by a male enhancement drug, and the way they read and present the ad copy always makes me giggle. I’m twelve and they make the awkwardness of it funny. But just be aware, sometimes the podcast gets adult.
I am looking forward to jumping into the other podcasts I mentioned a bit ago, I just haven’t made the decision to switch them on. I think my evenings are a great time to listen, because I am usually hanging out with my wife in her craft room, both of us with headphones, and it is relaxed and quiet. I want to maybe work out a schedule. You know, Mondays with Patton and Meredith, Tuesdays with the hobbits Billy and Dom, and Thursday is Star Trek time with Gates McFadden. (Wednesday might become Book Club night. More on that in another post!) Weekends are always busy and I end up doing other stuff, so they won’t really jive with the vibe I need to listen.
I’ve also thought a lot about starting my own podcast. My sister and I discussed doing one together, but nothing has yet come of it. We kind of need to be in the same physical space to make it work, and need the right equipment, and it feels like an expense and a hassle right now, but the idea remains evergreen in my mind. I tried on my own, but only got so far as recording two and half episodes before I quit. I also wasn’t in as good of a mental space as I am right now, so that might be part of it, too. If you would like to hear me do a podcast, drop me a note and let me know.
I find my favorite podcasts on Apple Podcasts via the iOS app, but really most major podcasts are available anywhere podcasts are hosted. I’ve also got Armchair Expert with Dax Shepard in my queue, need to finish Still Untitled: The Adam Savage Project, and have yet to check out but am really interested in Off Camera with Sam Jones. Let me know what podcasts you enjoy, and if they strike my fancy, I’ll give them a follow and a listen. Podcasts. They are the 21st century’s idea of radio. And I’m about to tune into another episode of Did You Get My Text?
Welcome to philredbeard.com, proudly hosted at wordpress.com, and featuring all the content you have come to know and love!
I have purchased a new domain name, and a wordpress Personal subscription, to remove ads on my site and to relaunch my blog. I have started to write more regularly now, and for a while my blog was a dusty road. It will now be updated more regularly, and I thought it should get a new start to commemorate the occasion.
So welcome to “a simple man”. Inspired by the bounty hunter Jango Fett as featured in Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Jango declares to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi that he is “a simple man, trying to make [his] way in the universe”. That moment, and that idea, has stuck with me ever since I was 15 years old sitting in a theater watching Clones for the first time. Really, that is all I have ever aspired to be: just “a simple man”.
Jango Fett, a simple man
On this blog I share my thoughts about what interests me, I share poetry that I write, and perhaps the occasional short story. I am a creator and a maker, and my primary medium is the English language. I also take pictures, paint, and other things, but my “first, best destiny”, to quote Mr. Spock from Star Trek, has always been to write. And here you will find my public writing.
I have fun writing, and I hope that you will find something that you enjoy reading. You can follow my blog by submitting your email to the right. You can also drop me an email to the address to the right. I would love to hear from you!
This past week, on July 13th, Major League Baseball held the 91st playing of the All Star Game. Set against the Rocky Mountains of Denver, Colorado, the game itself entertained and showcased Shohei Ohtani, a Japanese “two-way” player (two way referring to his dual roles as pitcher and designated hitter). Ohtani represented the Los Angeles Angels of the American League, but you’d be forgiven for missing that, a fact we will return to shortly for more discussion.
The night before, I thoroughly enjoyed the Home Run Derby, an exhibition of some of the game’s most powerful hitters, and while Ohtani participated and made the first round very exciting, he did not win. It always amazes me each year that the Derby manages to be as entertaining as it is. I convince myself that players hitting home run after home run on pitches basically lobbed into the strike zone won’t be fun to watch, but each year I prove myself wrong by becoming absorbed in the spectacle.
I always enjoy the All Star break in the middle of the baseball season, and look forward to seeing the year’s best players from each league competing together for the pride of the win and the fun of the game. I can remember past All Star Games and Home Run Derbies and the great players that assembled to reward the fans with some incredible moments. It is something special to see them all lined up on the foul lines, announced one by one, and knowing that some will be in the Hall of Fame and wondering which others might be inducted into Cooperstown in the future.
One aspect in particular that I always enjoyed each year was seeing the uniforms of each team displayed against each other. I really love the visual of a player from the Boston Red Sox playing with a player from the New York Yankees and the Baltimore Orioles. Or a New York Mets’ player with a Milwaukee Brewers’ player. I love to see the colors, the logos, and the styles all mixed onto two teams.
This year, however, fans of the game were robbed of that particular visual. Major League Baseball decided to design and have the players wear two uniforms, a home and an away jersey, and have them be worn during the All Star Game. In previous years, jerseys have been designed and worn, but only during All Star batting practice, the Home Run Derby, or other events. During the game itself, the players wore the uniforms of the teams they represented.
Which brings us back to Shohei Ohtani. Instead of the red Angels’ uniform he usually wears, he wore a dark blue uniform with large red letters on the chest and a blue cap. And so did every other player for the American League. The National League uniforms were white, but with the same large letters across the chest. The only concession to the different teams was the fact that each team had their own logo superimposed on three letters that abbreviated their city of origin. Really, the jerseys were hideous. They were badly colored, oddly designed, and not really aesthetically pleasing at all.
2021 All Star Game jerseys
Really, the look of the jerseys was secondary. Except for knowing that Ohtani was from the Angels already, I couldn’t have picked out what team he came from based on sight alone. The three letters for the city were totally obscured by the logo, which itself was hard to distinguish, but even with that difficulty, it was the same jersey that Jose Ramirez of the Cleveland Indians wore, and it was the same jersey that Vladimir Guerrero of the Toronto Blue Jays wore. It was even worse as later in the game less familiar players were substituted for their chance to shine. Only they didn’t, because they blended into every other player on their respective teams. It was very frustrating, distracting, and disappointing. That night they showed up in ugly blue or all white. No variation. No distinction. No celebration of diversity.
Maybe that is what bothers me the most, here a week later as I am writing this: the lack of diversity being celebrated. Baseball is America’s game, some say, and it should represent America. People sometimes say that America is a melting pot, where everyone is the same and equal. Sadly the people who live here are not treated equally, but beyond that, America is not a melting pot, a sludge of a single color. It is a cacophony of differences and hues. Just like baseball usually is during the All Star Game: Cincinnati red next to Oakland green next to Royal blue next to Pittsburg black next to San Fransisco orange next to Arizona whatever-color-they-are-this-week.
It wasn’t just that the uniforms were unappealing to me. It was that they were all uniform. And they shouldn’t have been. I truly hope that Major League Baseball doesn’t repeat that mistake next year and into the future. A quick skimming of social media showed that I wasn’t alone in my assessment of the game and its displays. In 2022, the All Star Game will be held at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, and while I truly hope that those All Star jerseys are much better designed, I hope too that I don’t see them during the game. I want to see that Dodger blue script on a white field with a red number for the home town Dodger players. It’s an iconic look and should proudly be displayed, alongside every other of the twenty-nine teams’ uniforms that are currently a part of Major League Baseball.
After all, its all part of the pageantry of baseball: the flash of home runs being launched into a summer night, the snap of a baseball into leather, and the excitement of the game’s best competing against the game’s best. It is what makes the Midsummer Classic a, well, a classic game out at the old ballpark. And that is what I want to see each year.
I feel stuck. Immobile. Mired. I do not much care for this state of being.
Lately I have been watching the series Loki on Disney+. It is a great continuation of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and the story of that universe’s version of the Norse God of Mischief. The title character is discovering all sorts of things about himself, and growing in so many dimensions as a person.
Loki’s catchphrase, introduced in the first Avenger’s’ film, “I am burdened with glorious purpose” comes to haunt him in a very unique way throughout the show.
That same idea, that “glorious purpose,” has come to haunt me lately. I don’t know if it is because of my once and future depression, or a symptom my covid infection that refuses to go away (I have come to suspect that I still suffer some mental effects from my bout with that virus back in January of this year). I don’t know if it is just garden variety laziness, or some other yet undiscovered malady. All I know is that I, like Loki, am burdened with glorious purpose….but I am unable to do anything about it.
The God of Mischief doesn’t have my particular problem. His affliction is that he seems doomed to fail. The audience of his show have yet to see if that will out once more in the ultimate episode, or if Loki will yet succeed, for once, in his journey. I, too, am in the middle, or maybe even at the end of the beginning, of my journey. I suppose it depends on how much of this life I am fated to live. Anyhow, I, like Loki, haven’t yet lived my last days.
Which brings me back to glorious purpose: what am I to do? Or, better yet, how am I to find the motivation to do it? I don’t know. Loki found a better part of himself in his journey that is dragging him up from his depths. Maybe I need such an impetus to drag me up. Perhaps. I somehow don’t think my problem is external. There could be some new drug, or treatment, or therapy, or thing that could pull me onwards, but I doubt it. I think my trouble in internal. I think inside of myself is both problem and solution.
In digging deep, I think I can discover my cure for, and ignition towards, my glorious purpose. Loki discovers that his glorious purpose is a diversion, a limiting factor. He saw he was doing it wrong all along. By trying to live up to some high ideal, whether crafted by himself or thrust upon him by station, he was already failing. But by following his own path he found his true glorious purpose: simply being himself.
That realization could be my salvation. I may need explore within and reconnect with who I, Phil RedBeard, am, and was, and will be, and embrace that fully. I am already doing some of that here. I am writing, and that has always seemed to be my first, best destiny. Suddenly I am not sitting around scrolling social media without purpose.
I am moving forward. I am achieving. And it is a heady feeling; I like this feeling. It’s almost as if I have met my true glorious purpose at last. Loki would be proud.
I have notice something about myself: I need things to be simple.
I’ll give an example: I don’t drive a standard, or manual, transmission car. I technically know how, but I won’t do it. It is too complicated. Mash this pedal while shifting this knob and not letting up on the gas while steering and maintaining a lane. Nope. Too much happening. I would much rather the car handle the transmission while I steer and adjust the speed. That I can handle.
That brings me to my latest purchase: a Bluetooth keyboard for my iPad Air. I have a traditional computer, but I use it primarily, really only, for work. Sitting there to write a blog post or something else feels too much like work. Plus, it isn’t a laptop, so I can’t take it anywhere I want to go. For these reasons, and a few others, I haven’t really sat down to write that much on the computer. The iPad, while mobile, suffers as well from a variety of issues that for me just don’t make it easy to sit down and start writing. Thus I just haven’t written much. The price of entry is too high.
My new keyboard is a seenda, not a brand I have known or heard of; it was an Amazon find. It is backlit and has a few other great features, but the best part is it makes typing, and therefore writing, easy and uncomplicated. Without making this a product review, I love everything about this keyboard. From the moment I paired it with the iPad and started to type, I knew this was the keyboard to get me writing again.
At the moment I am writing in the WordPress app while watching a baseball game using the picture-in-picture mode of the MLB.TV app. I’m sitting in my easy chair while my wife crochets next to me. It is wonderful. I am so happy writing right now. The flow of this blog post makes me hopeful that regular writing can again be a part of my life. Honestly: I’ve missed it. If this keyboard can bring that back it will be worth way more than I payed for it.
Ease of use is very important to me. Solving the complicating factors standing in the way of something I love is a major win. And I like winning. (Speaking of which, my team needs a win. Currently they have lost 9 in a row and are down 3-1 in the game. C’mon, Cleveland!).
a simple man 