So here's the thing... I realize I committed to doing this thing daily.
I just can't do it. A, it's kind of a lot of work and feels a bit pressured, and that's no fun for a boy who is a sensitive character such as myself.
B, it doesn't really feel authentic. I figure if I'm going to be writing in this public forum, I want to express stuff that feels true, current, natural and sincere. I don't want to blow blogsmoke up any backsides with wordy and intellectual fluff, or frothy emotional appeal.
SO, you can look forward to random short story ideas, limericks perhaps, rhymes, poems, unusual and perhaps inappropriate anecdotes, and things that may not fit nicely into a box.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Thursday, 3/31/11: Broken Things, Jesus In A Convertible Hummer & Ceviche
So I got home this evening - around 10:45 - from having carne asada tacos that were just okay, and a shrimp cevice tostada (fake-style, with cooked shrimp) that was pretty damned tasty.
A moment after entering Casa de DZ, I was keen that and something was odd, misplaced, not quite right. In fact, I soon realized that the three large, glossy, white, sheen-like-tigers-blood bookshelves I had drilled into the wall above my couch were now on my brown leather couch, now Casa de Unhappy.
On these shelves were an assortment of stuffs. Games, new glass candles from Ikea, a tiny plant, books, things I've collected over the years, etc. Seeing as I only moved in a month ago and am still organizing and arranging things, said stuffs were not yet organized in the lovely fashion I'd hoped for them to be organized in. Still, these various goodies were now re-organized in a sad fashion, broken into bits, scattered about, re-composing themselves in a new style of which I did not approve.
My first reaction: "fucking cat!"
How like Charlie, Mr. Alpha Boy, to jump on these shelves and explore, only to take them all down like bold, heavy, tragic dominoes. He's got to be soooo curious, soooo nosy, and my guess is he saw something green and growing there to munch on... In this case, a small cactus, which he would surely not gnaw on, and which now lay on said couch in said sad fashion. ("Help me. I may be prickly, but I am fragile and vulnerable.")
So here's the amazing part: my second and lasting reaction was, "clean up, get over it, it's only stuff".
Where in the hell did that come from? Swooped down upon me like Lord Jesus in a Hummer Convertible, dancing in a toga to "Circus" from Britney Spears. (Yeah, Pandora is pretty-much changing my life.)
So out come the broom, dustpan and baby broom. Pick things up, shake off broken shards of glass and that curious dry-dirt-and-tiny-styrofoam-ball debris that go in the $1.99 plants. And I was talking to God the whole while.
I realized, once the 3-second flash of anger came and went, that:
a) it very well may have been my cat's doing
b) what good would it do either of us to get all huffy
c) it's just stuff, and stuff can be replaced
d) noone got hurt
e) it's really all my fault, because
1) the shelves were never properly-secured
2) it's my responsibility, as a cat owner, to either have shelves he can safely jump onto, or find ways to prevent him from getting on them in the first place
The fact is, I need to have a home that is safe for my cat, and clearly that's an example of unsafe. I am grateful that he's okay.
The biggest material loss is a $60 Ikea lamp that I rather liked, but again, easily-replaceable.
Some amazing things are happening to me, on the inside, and I am aware and so grateful. Looks like I may finally be growing up...
A moment after entering Casa de DZ, I was keen that and something was odd, misplaced, not quite right. In fact, I soon realized that the three large, glossy, white, sheen-like-tigers-blood bookshelves I had drilled into the wall above my couch were now on my brown leather couch, now Casa de Unhappy.
On these shelves were an assortment of stuffs. Games, new glass candles from Ikea, a tiny plant, books, things I've collected over the years, etc. Seeing as I only moved in a month ago and am still organizing and arranging things, said stuffs were not yet organized in the lovely fashion I'd hoped for them to be organized in. Still, these various goodies were now re-organized in a sad fashion, broken into bits, scattered about, re-composing themselves in a new style of which I did not approve.
My first reaction: "fucking cat!"
How like Charlie, Mr. Alpha Boy, to jump on these shelves and explore, only to take them all down like bold, heavy, tragic dominoes. He's got to be soooo curious, soooo nosy, and my guess is he saw something green and growing there to munch on... In this case, a small cactus, which he would surely not gnaw on, and which now lay on said couch in said sad fashion. ("Help me. I may be prickly, but I am fragile and vulnerable.")
So here's the amazing part: my second and lasting reaction was, "clean up, get over it, it's only stuff".
Where in the hell did that come from? Swooped down upon me like Lord Jesus in a Hummer Convertible, dancing in a toga to "Circus" from Britney Spears. (Yeah, Pandora is pretty-much changing my life.)
So out come the broom, dustpan and baby broom. Pick things up, shake off broken shards of glass and that curious dry-dirt-and-tiny-styrofoam-ball debris that go in the $1.99 plants. And I was talking to God the whole while.
I realized, once the 3-second flash of anger came and went, that:
a) it very well may have been my cat's doing
b) what good would it do either of us to get all huffy
c) it's just stuff, and stuff can be replaced
d) noone got hurt
e) it's really all my fault, because
1) the shelves were never properly-secured
2) it's my responsibility, as a cat owner, to either have shelves he can safely jump onto, or find ways to prevent him from getting on them in the first place
The fact is, I need to have a home that is safe for my cat, and clearly that's an example of unsafe. I am grateful that he's okay.
The biggest material loss is a $60 Ikea lamp that I rather liked, but again, easily-replaceable.
Some amazing things are happening to me, on the inside, and I am aware and so grateful. Looks like I may finally be growing up...
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Wednesday, 3/30/11: Special Bonus Post - Cat Situation!
My cats are my family.
My "natural" family are loved dearly, but spread around, and I rarely see them.
Charlie & Daphne have been with me for about 10 years I reckon, the longest relationship I've ever had.
They play, cuddle, clean, run, purr, lick water and eat food, pee, poo... The usual stuff.
In all honesty, these are the two best cats I've ever had. And I am a cat guy - I've probably been dad to 30-40 cats, not counting when I was a little boy with 10 for awhile. Sort of a crazy cat kid. Or not sort of...
Around Christmas 2010, some weird stuff started happening. In the evenings, they'd fight. Not usual cat banter... Fight like cats in an alley who spin around, slice each other up, bleed, and cry in pain.
My reaction was shock, terror, anger, frustration, hopelessness, powerlessness, anxiety... Etc.
The vet recommended this plug-in product called Feliway. I'm still waiting for it to start working.
Fast-forward: I moved to a new place a month ago. It's smaller, and they were already on shaky ground prior to moving... She would regularly growl and hiss at him, and he, being so curious, would come at her while she expressed disdain, creating a scene.
In my new place, things came to a head last Friday, when Charlie began attacking/jumping on myself and others with all fours, scratching, ripping at flesh, wailing. Terrifying. Heartbreaking. Everything you can imagine that goes with that.
I finally took him to the vet on Saturday, he had a fine check-up/bloodwork, etc., and they gave me a sedative for him to chill.
I administered the drug, and he got really slow, loopy, tired, and it broke my heart to see him that way. His eyes were 1/2-covered with the whites, and his face was so distorted that he looked like a different cat. It caused me so much sadness to see that. The vet wanted to give him a script for cat-prozac, which I reluctantly agreed to.
Some of my friends think I need to spend more time and energy re-acquainting them with each other or my new place or using special toys or whatever. I love my friends - all of them. Someone suggested that the problem is that I've moved recently, but these cats have moved with me and my ex-wife probably a dozen times over their lifetime. No joke. The fact is, I haven't slept in 6 nights, and even with proper sleep, I don't have time or means to pay for the services, to babysit them, etc. It breaks my heart - the whole situation. I have cried, not eaten, and also fucked up at work, been depressed, and just felt overall really horrible. It's been a nightmare of hopeless and lonely terror, I kid you not. I am a single man, and I simply am unable to dedicate energy to this situation when I'm still trying to unpack in my new place, buy groceries, cook, live my daily life, go to meetings, etc. This situation has sucked the life out of me quickly.
I don't know why it happened - there are a few reasons that could explain it - but the fact is that my life has quickly been bulldozed by this. Why is not a spiritual question. Faith without works is dead.
So I've been praying. And talking to others. I put an ad on Facebook looking for a place for Daphne to go, because she is the sweeter one overall, and will be easier to find a home for. She is such a sweetheart, a lover of people, so friendly and happy, but she seems to hate him these days.
Two of my friends came through, one to pick her up and escort her, and the other to take her in, at least for a week or so until I find a permanent home. However, he is considering keeping her if it works out and if he can get permission from the landlord. I honestly couldn't think of a sweeter person to be her new dad, so we'll see what God has in store.
I am SO GRATEFUL for Samantha Stevens and Eric Andler, who graciously came through for me. One more example of how prayer works, and I am reminded that everything will always be okay no matter what. I knew it all day today - that I would be fine, that Daphne & Charlie would be fine, and that God had a plan. Here it is...
My "natural" family are loved dearly, but spread around, and I rarely see them.
Charlie & Daphne have been with me for about 10 years I reckon, the longest relationship I've ever had.
They play, cuddle, clean, run, purr, lick water and eat food, pee, poo... The usual stuff.
In all honesty, these are the two best cats I've ever had. And I am a cat guy - I've probably been dad to 30-40 cats, not counting when I was a little boy with 10 for awhile. Sort of a crazy cat kid. Or not sort of...
Around Christmas 2010, some weird stuff started happening. In the evenings, they'd fight. Not usual cat banter... Fight like cats in an alley who spin around, slice each other up, bleed, and cry in pain.
My reaction was shock, terror, anger, frustration, hopelessness, powerlessness, anxiety... Etc.
The vet recommended this plug-in product called Feliway. I'm still waiting for it to start working.
Fast-forward: I moved to a new place a month ago. It's smaller, and they were already on shaky ground prior to moving... She would regularly growl and hiss at him, and he, being so curious, would come at her while she expressed disdain, creating a scene.
In my new place, things came to a head last Friday, when Charlie began attacking/jumping on myself and others with all fours, scratching, ripping at flesh, wailing. Terrifying. Heartbreaking. Everything you can imagine that goes with that.
I finally took him to the vet on Saturday, he had a fine check-up/bloodwork, etc., and they gave me a sedative for him to chill.
I administered the drug, and he got really slow, loopy, tired, and it broke my heart to see him that way. His eyes were 1/2-covered with the whites, and his face was so distorted that he looked like a different cat. It caused me so much sadness to see that. The vet wanted to give him a script for cat-prozac, which I reluctantly agreed to.
Some of my friends think I need to spend more time and energy re-acquainting them with each other or my new place or using special toys or whatever. I love my friends - all of them. Someone suggested that the problem is that I've moved recently, but these cats have moved with me and my ex-wife probably a dozen times over their lifetime. No joke. The fact is, I haven't slept in 6 nights, and even with proper sleep, I don't have time or means to pay for the services, to babysit them, etc. It breaks my heart - the whole situation. I have cried, not eaten, and also fucked up at work, been depressed, and just felt overall really horrible. It's been a nightmare of hopeless and lonely terror, I kid you not. I am a single man, and I simply am unable to dedicate energy to this situation when I'm still trying to unpack in my new place, buy groceries, cook, live my daily life, go to meetings, etc. This situation has sucked the life out of me quickly.
I don't know why it happened - there are a few reasons that could explain it - but the fact is that my life has quickly been bulldozed by this. Why is not a spiritual question. Faith without works is dead.
So I've been praying. And talking to others. I put an ad on Facebook looking for a place for Daphne to go, because she is the sweeter one overall, and will be easier to find a home for. She is such a sweetheart, a lover of people, so friendly and happy, but she seems to hate him these days.
Two of my friends came through, one to pick her up and escort her, and the other to take her in, at least for a week or so until I find a permanent home. However, he is considering keeping her if it works out and if he can get permission from the landlord. I honestly couldn't think of a sweeter person to be her new dad, so we'll see what God has in store.
I am SO GRATEFUL for Samantha Stevens and Eric Andler, who graciously came through for me. One more example of how prayer works, and I am reminded that everything will always be okay no matter what. I knew it all day today - that I would be fine, that Daphne & Charlie would be fine, and that God had a plan. Here it is...
Wednesday, 3/30/11: Mom
I could write and write here, and I'd never be close to filling this page.
My mother, Susan Gertrude Ziemer-Brender, a woman of many names, was my primary parent - they divorced when I was 10, and I lived essentially as an only child from that age on, with the exception of borders who lived in our house too, some of whom took on roles of parent, friend, sibling and occasional horrible enemy.
My mom taught me so much, it's overwhelming to know where to start. So I'll start at the beginning.
Born in Vienna, surviving 3 concentration camps in WWII, survivor of 3 marriages, and mother to 3 of her own children, official-adopted mom to 2 other boys, and unofficially countless others, my mother was someone who not only beat the odds, but challenged and overturned them.
She came from a horrible and ugly place that traumatized her as a child and teenager, and used that pain to help others heal. A nurse, therapist, leader, healer, mentor, humorist, intellect... So many boxes to put her in, you might just run out.
My mom made lemonade from those lemons, but also used the skin and pulp to make memories, laughter, inappropriate-and-humiliating-your-child moments of the most sacred variety, introspection and amazing goulash. On cooking, she made good food, but we all agreed that it looked nasty. Liptower; that crazy German potato/sauerkraut/polska kielbasa/onion thing; and so much more german and austrian stuff.
But the real "meat-and-potatoes", so-to-speak, on Susan Ziemer, is that she was an amazing and wonderful person, who touched everyone she met over my lifetime. High school friends on Facebook still remember having great conversations with her, and on Thanksgiving and Christmukkah, she'd always have a caravan of older women over, who made me nervous and uncomfortable and resentful. They were alone and lonely, and had nowhere else to go for holidays. She was someone who looked out for people, who gave and gave and then gave more.
For most of the years she was alive, she was my best friend. Not only did she teach me how to play Scrabble as a young lad... She also taught me how to forgive and love the darkness - in people, circumstances, whatever. She showed me that whoever and whatever I am is beautiful. My mom not only encouraged me to chase my sorted dreams of being an actor, rock star, chef, and whatever else might be the career du jour... She got out of the way to let me grow, hurt, fall, and get back up and try again.
Certainly she was no saint; but I don't need to talk about her problems. I did that most of my young life, and today I am celebrating her.
The fact is, most days lately I am celebrating her. The man I am becoming is so much about my mom, who emanated love.
I really could go on and on... I've barely scratched the bottom left corner of the surface. But hopefully you get the idea. I miss her, she never leaves my mind or presence, and I love her more than ever.
My mother, Susan Gertrude Ziemer-Brender, a woman of many names, was my primary parent - they divorced when I was 10, and I lived essentially as an only child from that age on, with the exception of borders who lived in our house too, some of whom took on roles of parent, friend, sibling and occasional horrible enemy.
My mom taught me so much, it's overwhelming to know where to start. So I'll start at the beginning.
Born in Vienna, surviving 3 concentration camps in WWII, survivor of 3 marriages, and mother to 3 of her own children, official-adopted mom to 2 other boys, and unofficially countless others, my mother was someone who not only beat the odds, but challenged and overturned them.
She came from a horrible and ugly place that traumatized her as a child and teenager, and used that pain to help others heal. A nurse, therapist, leader, healer, mentor, humorist, intellect... So many boxes to put her in, you might just run out.
My mom made lemonade from those lemons, but also used the skin and pulp to make memories, laughter, inappropriate-and-humiliating-your-child moments of the most sacred variety, introspection and amazing goulash. On cooking, she made good food, but we all agreed that it looked nasty. Liptower; that crazy German potato/sauerkraut/polska kielbasa/onion thing; and so much more german and austrian stuff.
But the real "meat-and-potatoes", so-to-speak, on Susan Ziemer, is that she was an amazing and wonderful person, who touched everyone she met over my lifetime. High school friends on Facebook still remember having great conversations with her, and on Thanksgiving and Christmukkah, she'd always have a caravan of older women over, who made me nervous and uncomfortable and resentful. They were alone and lonely, and had nowhere else to go for holidays. She was someone who looked out for people, who gave and gave and then gave more.
For most of the years she was alive, she was my best friend. Not only did she teach me how to play Scrabble as a young lad... She also taught me how to forgive and love the darkness - in people, circumstances, whatever. She showed me that whoever and whatever I am is beautiful. My mom not only encouraged me to chase my sorted dreams of being an actor, rock star, chef, and whatever else might be the career du jour... She got out of the way to let me grow, hurt, fall, and get back up and try again.
Certainly she was no saint; but I don't need to talk about her problems. I did that most of my young life, and today I am celebrating her.
The fact is, most days lately I am celebrating her. The man I am becoming is so much about my mom, who emanated love.
I really could go on and on... I've barely scratched the bottom left corner of the surface. But hopefully you get the idea. I miss her, she never leaves my mind or presence, and I love her more than ever.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, 3/29/11: Sisters
So let me just tell you that I'm exhausted, have been having spotty sleep for the past few nights due to feline emotional issues, and I only have a few minutes tonight. Apologies to my sisters if they read this; I love you a lot, but I can't keep staying up until midnight to do my blog... Gotta start doing it in the mornings, but for now, it's a quickie.
2 sisters, whom I shall call Betty and Schmetty.
Betty is the youngest of the sisters, and the chronological order, ascending is: Danny, Huey, Louis, Betty, Schmetty. Jesus, whoever named most of those kids has some issues. Oh wait - it was me.
Anyway, Betty was a big part of my childhood. We used to go see a lot of movies together, she got me hooked on Mork from Ork, Star Trek, and other geekstuffs. She was probably the first geek woman in my life who provided some great direction, fun and excitement. I believe Betty taught me how to drive...
So Betty moved out of the house when I must have been in high school (?), and ultimately married, had kids (mentioned a couple days ago, two of them), and ended up living in Virginia with her family. We rarely talk now, but I hope to be seeing her and the whole family this summer.
She's a great person. Warm, loving, good-intentioned, caring, considerate, creative, sassy in that Ziemer-style, smart, a mom of a group of kids that can be a handful, passionate, artistic, and fun to be around. I miss her - haven't seen her in years, probably close to 10, and I really hope I get to this summer.
The other sister - Schmetty - is the oldest of us. She changed her last name to something bay area like Dolphin, but she's still ok in my book. In fact, she's pretty awesome.
Schmetty lives in Sebastapol, up further north, somewhat close to Santa Rosa. She used to own a flower shop, worked in crafts shows both selling and making groovy stuff, and now produces a huge annual crafts show in Bodega Bay every year. She also works at a weight management program, running groups and such. But what's super-awesome is that she got into the Personal Training biz in the past few years. And I do believe she's doing pretty well with it, although we haven't talked in awhile.
Schmetty lives in a cottage in the middle of an apple orchard, and it's pretty damned breathtaking. She plays some mean Scrabble - almost as good as me - is the sassiest of the Ziemer's, outspoken, clever, witty, funny, ridiculous, wise, loving, considerate, patient and really just a great person. Jeez, I haven't seen her in awhile, and need to.
I'd like to mention, in a general way, that Schmetty went through an amazing transformation of being someone who didn't think a whole lot of herself and couldn't really "find her way" in her younger years to a woman who is a leader, who helps others all the time, who capitalizes on her strengths, and who always shares news that inspires me. We used to despise each other when I was a kid, and today I love her as much as the others, but a little less if she beats me at Scrabble.
Okay, that's it for now...
2 sisters, whom I shall call Betty and Schmetty.
Betty is the youngest of the sisters, and the chronological order, ascending is: Danny, Huey, Louis, Betty, Schmetty. Jesus, whoever named most of those kids has some issues. Oh wait - it was me.
Anyway, Betty was a big part of my childhood. We used to go see a lot of movies together, she got me hooked on Mork from Ork, Star Trek, and other geekstuffs. She was probably the first geek woman in my life who provided some great direction, fun and excitement. I believe Betty taught me how to drive...
So Betty moved out of the house when I must have been in high school (?), and ultimately married, had kids (mentioned a couple days ago, two of them), and ended up living in Virginia with her family. We rarely talk now, but I hope to be seeing her and the whole family this summer.
She's a great person. Warm, loving, good-intentioned, caring, considerate, creative, sassy in that Ziemer-style, smart, a mom of a group of kids that can be a handful, passionate, artistic, and fun to be around. I miss her - haven't seen her in years, probably close to 10, and I really hope I get to this summer.
The other sister - Schmetty - is the oldest of us. She changed her last name to something bay area like Dolphin, but she's still ok in my book. In fact, she's pretty awesome.
Schmetty lives in Sebastapol, up further north, somewhat close to Santa Rosa. She used to own a flower shop, worked in crafts shows both selling and making groovy stuff, and now produces a huge annual crafts show in Bodega Bay every year. She also works at a weight management program, running groups and such. But what's super-awesome is that she got into the Personal Training biz in the past few years. And I do believe she's doing pretty well with it, although we haven't talked in awhile.
Schmetty lives in a cottage in the middle of an apple orchard, and it's pretty damned breathtaking. She plays some mean Scrabble - almost as good as me - is the sassiest of the Ziemer's, outspoken, clever, witty, funny, ridiculous, wise, loving, considerate, patient and really just a great person. Jeez, I haven't seen her in awhile, and need to.
I'd like to mention, in a general way, that Schmetty went through an amazing transformation of being someone who didn't think a whole lot of herself and couldn't really "find her way" in her younger years to a woman who is a leader, who helps others all the time, who capitalizes on her strengths, and who always shares news that inspires me. We used to despise each other when I was a kid, and today I love her as much as the others, but a little less if she beats me at Scrabble.
Okay, that's it for now...
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, 3/28/11: Brothers
I have two brothers - I'll call them Huey and Louie.
A disclaimer from the gate here - my brothers and sisters are halves... Brothers have a different mom, sisters a different dad. Both of my parents were on their second marriage when they had me, the "love child", if you wish. None of us look at each other that way, but I'm just saying. What's sort of cool for me is that I am blood-related to all four... That's why I got mad skillz, playa.
That said, let me tell you about my bros. Huey and Louie have birthdays that are back-to-back... I'm pretty sure it's April 13 and 14. They are, I believe, 5 years apart. It might be April 12 and 13, and it might be 6 or 7 years apart, but you get the idea. Of course, I should know these things, but I'm way too busy thinking about myself pretty much all the time.
So Huey is the next youngest from me... I'm 41, so I believe that makes him 46? Anyway, this guy - if you saw who he is, what he does for work and fun, you'd likely not know he's my brother... He's married for - geez - 17 years or so? - a paralegal in Pasadena, avidly coaches soccer for his kids (mentioned in yesterday's post) and a host of other kids, of course, and is clearly regarded as the Burbank Soccer CoachMaster. He's very passionate about his shows, and amongst the favorites are Amazing Race, Survivor, Simpsons, History Channel and that sort of thing, and raunchy, disturbing reality shows with Harley Davidsons, Brett Michaels and such.
This guy, he goes to work all suited-up like me, works for The Man, and lives a very humble and respectable lifestyle. So you'd look at him and me, and you'd ask yourself, "how could these two be brothers?"
YOU: "Why, this one is short and VERY bald, and this one is TALL, and PRETTY bald."
YOU: "Yes, how can they be brothers?"
YOU: "Look here - this fellow Huey enjoys television, and this fellow Danny owns no television and only watches films on Netflix and Tim & Eric Awesome Show Great Job on Hulu".
YOU: "I find this conversation ridiculous!"
YOU: "Why, just look at the facts man... This man is handy with tools and building sorted things, teaches young women fyne soccer-playing antics, and this larger fellow is skilled with drilling random holes into things and creating uneven surfaces, breaking things, and translating Shakespeare. How can there possibly be genetic material involved here?"
YOU: "This conversation is making me terribly uncomfortable, for far too many reasons to list. May I please return to my cell?"
That had to stop.
The fact is, Huey is an awesome dude. Funny, charming, charismatic, sensitive, articulate, loving, forgiving, mature, playful, silly, creative, smart, sassy (a favourite Ziemerism), sarcastic (another favourite), motivated and most of all, has taught me so much about being a man. He shows up for his wife, his kids, his friends and co-workers. He's the guy at work who should be totally overwhelmed and stressed, and although he may be going through his work shit, he's always cracking odd jokes, providing funny and anecdotal references, and generally bringing smiles to the faces of others with his offbeat humor, which I would think is a rare commodity in law. The neighbors know him, they chat it up when taking down the Christmas lights or washing the car. He tucks his kids in at night when he can. He reads the paper and drinks coffee in the morning. Yeah, real man stuff, and that's pretty damned cool in my book.
As a kid, Huey was my first hero. I don't have the time - and this is certainly not the forum - to tell you all of what's happened from 1977 or so until 2011. I will tell you that those feelings of admiration went away, both out of his and my own doing. But I can also assure you that today, he is my hero again. I've watched this dude walk through some incredibly painful and challenging stuff, have gotten to share mine with him, and he has always had my back, given me support and been in my corner.
Louie is my big brother - I reckon he's 48? 49? This guy was always a joker, too. I remember, as a kid, there was always some odd and borderline-dangerous humor around various serial killers and such... "I'm not crazy. I'm the devil. And the devil ALWAYS shaves his head!" -Charlie Manson "Robbie, when I GIVE you a banana, you EAT the banana!" -family across the street. Okay, not serial killers I believe, but the vocal styling and mannerisms he incorporated into the delivery were of that variety.
This guy too - he likes the country music and swing dancing, so odd! I realized recently that I stole one of my first two tapes from him - Blondie, Parallel Lines. He was into the real punk rock that was happening in the 80's, going to shows in Orange County, and some of that rubbed off on me, but I was mostly too busy listening to A Flock of Seagulls and such.
So this guy has an incredible work ethic. He started working for a large grocery chain when he was 18, right out of high school, and has stayed there all of these years. For a guy like me, who doesn't really "do" jobs, that says a hell of a lot. He and I look more alike than his brother and I - he's 6'4", played basketball in high school, etc. Louie is generally regarded as the normal one of the family. A family needs that. I can assure you, though, that he does possess the Awesomeosity of Ziemerosity. Inappropriate, funny, charming, charismatic, generous, sensitive, creative... So much shared with his brother. This dude has been and remains on my hero list as well.
I can also share with you that, when I was in high school and going through an incredibly difficult period, he and his then-wife took me in and let me stay in their home. Believe me, I was no walk-in-the-park, and he demonstrated that love is action, even when it's uncomfortable. And being around me at that time was, I imagine, terribly uncomfortable.
With both of these guys, they've taught me what it means to do anything for family. These are those kind of guys. They walk the talk. These brothers of mine continue to demonstrate what it means to be selfless and unconditionally-loving, even when the conditions are such that it's not so appealing.
The best way to become a man is to have examples who will pick you up when you fall, and allow you to be there for them when the shit hits their fan. And these are those guys. I love 'em with all of me.
A disclaimer from the gate here - my brothers and sisters are halves... Brothers have a different mom, sisters a different dad. Both of my parents were on their second marriage when they had me, the "love child", if you wish. None of us look at each other that way, but I'm just saying. What's sort of cool for me is that I am blood-related to all four... That's why I got mad skillz, playa.
That said, let me tell you about my bros. Huey and Louie have birthdays that are back-to-back... I'm pretty sure it's April 13 and 14. They are, I believe, 5 years apart. It might be April 12 and 13, and it might be 6 or 7 years apart, but you get the idea. Of course, I should know these things, but I'm way too busy thinking about myself pretty much all the time.
So Huey is the next youngest from me... I'm 41, so I believe that makes him 46? Anyway, this guy - if you saw who he is, what he does for work and fun, you'd likely not know he's my brother... He's married for - geez - 17 years or so? - a paralegal in Pasadena, avidly coaches soccer for his kids (mentioned in yesterday's post) and a host of other kids, of course, and is clearly regarded as the Burbank Soccer CoachMaster. He's very passionate about his shows, and amongst the favorites are Amazing Race, Survivor, Simpsons, History Channel and that sort of thing, and raunchy, disturbing reality shows with Harley Davidsons, Brett Michaels and such.
This guy, he goes to work all suited-up like me, works for The Man, and lives a very humble and respectable lifestyle. So you'd look at him and me, and you'd ask yourself, "how could these two be brothers?"
YOU: "Why, this one is short and VERY bald, and this one is TALL, and PRETTY bald."
YOU: "Yes, how can they be brothers?"
YOU: "Look here - this fellow Huey enjoys television, and this fellow Danny owns no television and only watches films on Netflix and Tim & Eric Awesome Show Great Job on Hulu".
YOU: "I find this conversation ridiculous!"
YOU: "Why, just look at the facts man... This man is handy with tools and building sorted things, teaches young women fyne soccer-playing antics, and this larger fellow is skilled with drilling random holes into things and creating uneven surfaces, breaking things, and translating Shakespeare. How can there possibly be genetic material involved here?"
YOU: "This conversation is making me terribly uncomfortable, for far too many reasons to list. May I please return to my cell?"
That had to stop.
The fact is, Huey is an awesome dude. Funny, charming, charismatic, sensitive, articulate, loving, forgiving, mature, playful, silly, creative, smart, sassy (a favourite Ziemerism), sarcastic (another favourite), motivated and most of all, has taught me so much about being a man. He shows up for his wife, his kids, his friends and co-workers. He's the guy at work who should be totally overwhelmed and stressed, and although he may be going through his work shit, he's always cracking odd jokes, providing funny and anecdotal references, and generally bringing smiles to the faces of others with his offbeat humor, which I would think is a rare commodity in law. The neighbors know him, they chat it up when taking down the Christmas lights or washing the car. He tucks his kids in at night when he can. He reads the paper and drinks coffee in the morning. Yeah, real man stuff, and that's pretty damned cool in my book.
As a kid, Huey was my first hero. I don't have the time - and this is certainly not the forum - to tell you all of what's happened from 1977 or so until 2011. I will tell you that those feelings of admiration went away, both out of his and my own doing. But I can also assure you that today, he is my hero again. I've watched this dude walk through some incredibly painful and challenging stuff, have gotten to share mine with him, and he has always had my back, given me support and been in my corner.
Louie is my big brother - I reckon he's 48? 49? This guy was always a joker, too. I remember, as a kid, there was always some odd and borderline-dangerous humor around various serial killers and such... "I'm not crazy. I'm the devil. And the devil ALWAYS shaves his head!" -Charlie Manson "Robbie, when I GIVE you a banana, you EAT the banana!" -family across the street. Okay, not serial killers I believe, but the vocal styling and mannerisms he incorporated into the delivery were of that variety.
This guy too - he likes the country music and swing dancing, so odd! I realized recently that I stole one of my first two tapes from him - Blondie, Parallel Lines. He was into the real punk rock that was happening in the 80's, going to shows in Orange County, and some of that rubbed off on me, but I was mostly too busy listening to A Flock of Seagulls and such.
So this guy has an incredible work ethic. He started working for a large grocery chain when he was 18, right out of high school, and has stayed there all of these years. For a guy like me, who doesn't really "do" jobs, that says a hell of a lot. He and I look more alike than his brother and I - he's 6'4", played basketball in high school, etc. Louie is generally regarded as the normal one of the family. A family needs that. I can assure you, though, that he does possess the Awesomeosity of Ziemerosity. Inappropriate, funny, charming, charismatic, generous, sensitive, creative... So much shared with his brother. This dude has been and remains on my hero list as well.
I can also share with you that, when I was in high school and going through an incredibly difficult period, he and his then-wife took me in and let me stay in their home. Believe me, I was no walk-in-the-park, and he demonstrated that love is action, even when it's uncomfortable. And being around me at that time was, I imagine, terribly uncomfortable.
With both of these guys, they've taught me what it means to do anything for family. These are those kind of guys. They walk the talk. These brothers of mine continue to demonstrate what it means to be selfless and unconditionally-loving, even when the conditions are such that it's not so appealing.
The best way to become a man is to have examples who will pick you up when you fall, and allow you to be there for them when the shit hits their fan. And these are those guys. I love 'em with all of me.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday, 3/27/11: Nieces & Nephews
I can't think of a better way to tell you about my awesome family than to discuss my awesome nieces & nephews.
I love my entire family - like all families, we have our challenges, issues and sometimes pain. But there also exists love, forgiveness, laughter, and joy. To my own fault, I don't know my nephews in Virginia all that well, but my one nephew, whom I'll call Frank, is a great kid, really smart, 16 or 17 I believe, and from what I know, seems to be on a path of higher education and a career in technology.
My nieces, however, I do know well, and they are the sunshine of my life. Here come the fake names: Frank's sister, Melissa, is 16, an amazing actor, has the Ziemer Chutzpah, writes really insightful, quirky and thought-provoking poetry, is funny, and like all three nieces I'll focus on mostly here (since I know them all pretty well), gorgeous. Melissa is always doing funny things with her hair, and I reckon she got some lip piercing or maybe her nose, which is adorable, and which I suspect her parents were not thrilled with. The bummer - really with her whole family, parents included - is that she's so far away, so I'm lucky to see her once a year. That throws a wrench in bitchenosity, but I still see her on facebook, we chat occasionally, and I get to follow her life and see the fantastic things she's doing, being a kid, having fun, presumably getting into some trouble, etc. I had a scare around Christmastime, about some personal stuff going on in her family, and the way in which she, I and finally her brother Frank - mentioned above - were able to connect on that stuff was remarkable. Melissa is smart, sassy and hysterical, just the way a Ziemer should be (even though she has a different last name, she's still totally a Ziemer). Melissa, like the other two in Burbank, is my Facebook daughter. She calls me "dad" when we chat, and it honestly wells me up a bit. I should be so lucky.
So the other two in Burbank... I'll call the 13 year old Cupcake, and the 15 year old Lexus, just because those names will likely irritate the hell out of them.
Again, the disclaimer here is that, with these two, I remember when they were born, have celebrated many-a-birthday with them, watched them go from little girls into gorgeous, talented, sassy young women, and have been fortunate enough to be around for some of the hard stuff too, which is maybe one of the greatest blessings in my life. Damn, I have it good.
So we'll start with Cupcake, since she's the junior. This girl, I remember this little kid... Short, chubby, cranky, quiet-but-fierce, irritable... As a kid, although cute and all that, she seemed pretty unhappy. Putting on my psychoanalytical hat, I suspect she was pretty peeved with being smaller and less athletic than her sister, who really got a lot of attention with her soccer rockstarness. More on that later.
So here's this little kid, sweet and funny but also seemingly-misunderstood, who has a lisp and a grudge. Oh, the identification. So I get the honor of watching this child turn into something that is absolutely remarkable. I get to watch her become an amazing person, right before my eyes, which must be deceiving me. I have had the honor of watching Cupcake become this sensitive, sarcastic (definitely a plus in the Ziemer Clan), sweet, gentle, creative, smart, knockout woman. She is truly remarkable. Truly. This kid says things that are way beyond her years, and has insight and intuition that most even semi-aware people would kill for. To see her and how she has become not only tolerant of but a fan of her sister - and to see how she is becoming her own person, how she and her sister are still amazing friends, but Cupcake has some of her OWN friends now, and has broken away from the "sidekick sister" shadow that she fell into at a young age... It is an amazing thing to have the privilege of witnessing. This kid and I have talked about some really deep and heavy stuff, and have also laughed and celebrated our own joys. Wow, as I write this, I'm reminded of just how much I miss these girls.
So the other one now... Lexus. Yeah, she'll love that. This girl was, at a young age, incredibly gifted with the soccer ball. And, also at a young age, she was beautiful. Of course, as her uncle, I was honored and proud to be amongst those genes... But wait, where the f*ck is mine??!
So the thing is, I could imagine that other little girls - without Lexus' field skills and stunning "California Blond" looks, probably couldn't stand her. But the thing is, I never saw that. And I believe I never saw it because she was - and still is - the sweetest kid I ever met. Perhaps the sweetest person I've ever met. Honestly, I hope to someday be as kind, patient and humble as this girl. It blows me away. Because of her dad - my brother - she inherited the sassy personality, quick and sharp humor, integrity and good sense (sadly, that's probably more him than me). Certainly because of her mom - as is the case with her sister - she got the patience, sensibility, reasoning, sweetness, hottie Norwegian tannable-skin, light eyes and blonde locks, and just overall "goodness", among other things. Again, I've had the honor of watching this girl go from an 87 Toyota Corolla into a 2011 Lexus. Horrible, I know, but I had to work that name in here.
One last anecdote on these two above... Last time I was in L.A. with the familia, I had the most amazing experience of dancing with my nieces in the living room one evening. Cupcake had broken her knee in a bad soccer spill just before I arrived, and we were hanging out over the holidays, kind of bored. I plugged my iPhone into their little boombox, and we proceeded to take over the living room, chasing their dad away to watch TV elsewhere, while I got to turn them on to awesome 80's grinds, amongst them Prince, Madonna, Big Country, Duran Duran, Joy Division, etc. That was something I'll cherish forever. Little Cupcake propped herself up on the couch, and was rolling her hair around, doing crazy things with her arms, and shaking both her functioning and gimp leg around. (Don't worry, she's since recovered, so I can call her a gimp - I did it then too.) We laughed so much, doing all of these crazy moves we were making up, and it was really a thrill for me, this guy who is becoming the kind of uncle that I could only hope to be to my own kids someday, if I'm so lucky.
So a big hug, smile and thank you to ALL of my nieces and nephews, especially the ones I've yet to meet, and very much so to those in Virginia who I can't wait to know more. And thanks to the parents - my brother and sister, and my s-in-law and b-in-law, who brought these morsels of happiness into my life. These are some big morsels, and I am reminded again that I just might be the luckiest guy around...
I love my entire family - like all families, we have our challenges, issues and sometimes pain. But there also exists love, forgiveness, laughter, and joy. To my own fault, I don't know my nephews in Virginia all that well, but my one nephew, whom I'll call Frank, is a great kid, really smart, 16 or 17 I believe, and from what I know, seems to be on a path of higher education and a career in technology.
My nieces, however, I do know well, and they are the sunshine of my life. Here come the fake names: Frank's sister, Melissa, is 16, an amazing actor, has the Ziemer Chutzpah, writes really insightful, quirky and thought-provoking poetry, is funny, and like all three nieces I'll focus on mostly here (since I know them all pretty well), gorgeous. Melissa is always doing funny things with her hair, and I reckon she got some lip piercing or maybe her nose, which is adorable, and which I suspect her parents were not thrilled with. The bummer - really with her whole family, parents included - is that she's so far away, so I'm lucky to see her once a year. That throws a wrench in bitchenosity, but I still see her on facebook, we chat occasionally, and I get to follow her life and see the fantastic things she's doing, being a kid, having fun, presumably getting into some trouble, etc. I had a scare around Christmastime, about some personal stuff going on in her family, and the way in which she, I and finally her brother Frank - mentioned above - were able to connect on that stuff was remarkable. Melissa is smart, sassy and hysterical, just the way a Ziemer should be (even though she has a different last name, she's still totally a Ziemer). Melissa, like the other two in Burbank, is my Facebook daughter. She calls me "dad" when we chat, and it honestly wells me up a bit. I should be so lucky.
So the other two in Burbank... I'll call the 13 year old Cupcake, and the 15 year old Lexus, just because those names will likely irritate the hell out of them.
Again, the disclaimer here is that, with these two, I remember when they were born, have celebrated many-a-birthday with them, watched them go from little girls into gorgeous, talented, sassy young women, and have been fortunate enough to be around for some of the hard stuff too, which is maybe one of the greatest blessings in my life. Damn, I have it good.
So we'll start with Cupcake, since she's the junior. This girl, I remember this little kid... Short, chubby, cranky, quiet-but-fierce, irritable... As a kid, although cute and all that, she seemed pretty unhappy. Putting on my psychoanalytical hat, I suspect she was pretty peeved with being smaller and less athletic than her sister, who really got a lot of attention with her soccer rockstarness. More on that later.
So here's this little kid, sweet and funny but also seemingly-misunderstood, who has a lisp and a grudge. Oh, the identification. So I get the honor of watching this child turn into something that is absolutely remarkable. I get to watch her become an amazing person, right before my eyes, which must be deceiving me. I have had the honor of watching Cupcake become this sensitive, sarcastic (definitely a plus in the Ziemer Clan), sweet, gentle, creative, smart, knockout woman. She is truly remarkable. Truly. This kid says things that are way beyond her years, and has insight and intuition that most even semi-aware people would kill for. To see her and how she has become not only tolerant of but a fan of her sister - and to see how she is becoming her own person, how she and her sister are still amazing friends, but Cupcake has some of her OWN friends now, and has broken away from the "sidekick sister" shadow that she fell into at a young age... It is an amazing thing to have the privilege of witnessing. This kid and I have talked about some really deep and heavy stuff, and have also laughed and celebrated our own joys. Wow, as I write this, I'm reminded of just how much I miss these girls.
So the other one now... Lexus. Yeah, she'll love that. This girl was, at a young age, incredibly gifted with the soccer ball. And, also at a young age, she was beautiful. Of course, as her uncle, I was honored and proud to be amongst those genes... But wait, where the f*ck is mine??!
So the thing is, I could imagine that other little girls - without Lexus' field skills and stunning "California Blond" looks, probably couldn't stand her. But the thing is, I never saw that. And I believe I never saw it because she was - and still is - the sweetest kid I ever met. Perhaps the sweetest person I've ever met. Honestly, I hope to someday be as kind, patient and humble as this girl. It blows me away. Because of her dad - my brother - she inherited the sassy personality, quick and sharp humor, integrity and good sense (sadly, that's probably more him than me). Certainly because of her mom - as is the case with her sister - she got the patience, sensibility, reasoning, sweetness, hottie Norwegian tannable-skin, light eyes and blonde locks, and just overall "goodness", among other things. Again, I've had the honor of watching this girl go from an 87 Toyota Corolla into a 2011 Lexus. Horrible, I know, but I had to work that name in here.
One last anecdote on these two above... Last time I was in L.A. with the familia, I had the most amazing experience of dancing with my nieces in the living room one evening. Cupcake had broken her knee in a bad soccer spill just before I arrived, and we were hanging out over the holidays, kind of bored. I plugged my iPhone into their little boombox, and we proceeded to take over the living room, chasing their dad away to watch TV elsewhere, while I got to turn them on to awesome 80's grinds, amongst them Prince, Madonna, Big Country, Duran Duran, Joy Division, etc. That was something I'll cherish forever. Little Cupcake propped herself up on the couch, and was rolling her hair around, doing crazy things with her arms, and shaking both her functioning and gimp leg around. (Don't worry, she's since recovered, so I can call her a gimp - I did it then too.) We laughed so much, doing all of these crazy moves we were making up, and it was really a thrill for me, this guy who is becoming the kind of uncle that I could only hope to be to my own kids someday, if I'm so lucky.
So a big hug, smile and thank you to ALL of my nieces and nephews, especially the ones I've yet to meet, and very much so to those in Virginia who I can't wait to know more. And thanks to the parents - my brother and sister, and my s-in-law and b-in-law, who brought these morsels of happiness into my life. These are some big morsels, and I am reminded again that I just might be the luckiest guy around...
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