Taking my cue from the late, great Joseph Campbell, I will state here that myths are important to people. In modern America, most of us would claim that we “aren’t into” myths; we deal in facts and reality. But then along come the foils, follies and foibles of real life, and we go running for our myths. We just don’t like to call them myths. We call them “therapy” or “philosophy” or “religion” or “literature” or “entertainment”. Or even “science”. At some point, all of these things depend upon assumptions that sound good but just can’t be proven, upon things we would like to believe, on leaps of faith. Some are just more honest about it than others.

The classic myths can inspire heroism, but also teach and explain why human beings often fall short. The Iliad and Odyssey tell of great battles and heroic efforts, but also of human blindness and foolishness; and also the fickle finger of fate. Some myths are simple, others long and complex. But at bottom, they help the reader to make some sense out of life even when it seems utterly senseless. Myths don’t always offer hope and redemption; sometimes they tell you “that’s just the way it is”. But at least they help you to resolve yourself to it.

My nutshell definition of a “myth” is a story that means something important, something very personal, to those who enjoy the story.  »  continue reading …

Back in 1988, I bought my first pair of Timberland boots. They were a nice, heavy-duty pair of 8 inch high-tops with thick vibram soles. I had just been divorced, and was doing a lot of hiking in the regional mountain parks in northern Jersey and southern New York state, to help get my mind back together. Those boots and I put a fair number of miles in on the trails, and were also good companions in snow storms and other bad weather. They were good shoes to have whenever the terrain was bumpy or wet, or you were trying to get some real physical work done.

Well, nothing lasts forever, but those boots sure lasted much longer than most. They finally bit the dust about a month ago, when the top came unglued from the sole as I was changing a car tire. They served almost 22 years! But the time had finally come to get a new pair of heavy boots.

So I checked the web, and it turned out that Timberland  »  continue reading …

There’s a good article in the April Atlantic by Jonathan Rauch about the struggles of caring for an aging parent (i.e., what Rauch went through with his father, who died this past December). Having been involved since 2001 in a somewhat similar situation (my mother, who died this past October), I wanted to make note of Mr. Rauch’s reflections. He concludes that senior caregivers are still mostly a “silent, invisible army” amidst millions of Americans in their fourties and fifties, most of whom are trying to get by in their own working lives while simultaneously working hard to raise their own children.

Given the experience he had over the past 12 months with his father, Mr. Rauch, a successful political affairs writer from the Washington DC area, now understands something of the sacrifices that a whole lot of unseen, uncelebrated people “out there” in the cities, towns and villages of America are making in order to comfort their parents in their decline. Now that he’s had a taste of what all these good folk silently bear, Mr. Rauch wants to put them “on the radar” of the movers and shakers of our political, cultural and economic institutions. He wants the news and entertainment media to give them more recognition, wants the government and other do-good establishments to give them more information and support, and wants employers to give them a break when their commitments call them away from the daily grind.

Well OK, Mr. Rauch, thanks. Having been a member  »  continue reading …

I had to take my car to my regular mechanic the other day for some servicing, and it gave me an occasion to ride a bus. Or, “the bus”, as we say here in Jersey. The bus route in question was the NJ Transit number 75, a rush-hour only express service from Newark to Butler. And I must say that I enjoyed the ride. NJT uses a big, smooth-riding MCI cruiser on this route, not just another Nova street-rattler. The ride was smooth and quiet, and open seats were plentiful. The driver made change, which doesn’t happen on most buses out of Newark. It was a nice day and the sun was shining through the big windows. Everyone on board was well-mannered, no radios or bad behavior. And the trips were more or less on time.

Riding local buses, though, is not easy (and not always pleasant! especially when they are standing room only, or you go through the wrong neighborhood). You have to invest some time and research into finding out when they run, where they stop, how much they charge, how and when you pay for the trip, etc. And even when you’re on board, if you’re a first time rider, you might not know the protocol to use when your destination nears and you want to get off. Maybe there’s a strip or button that you press on the bus to ring a bell telling the driver to get ready to stop. But when you’re not a regular, sometimes the driver still won’t stop; unless you walk right up front and tell him or her. And if you do, the driver might get a little surly about being told, implying that you are bothering her or him with unnecessary details. (And if you do happen to be on a local bus going thru the wrong neighborhood — just stay calm and quiet, stay loose, don’t move too much, and look at the floor or out the window mostly.)

Even getting on the bus is not always easy; some bus drivers  »  continue reading …

It’s early March, and the signs are in the air that another winter is coming to an end. There’s a few minutes of daylight when I get home from work now. The cold winds still blow, but they aren’t as frigid as they were four weeks ago. The weather forecasts still threaten us with snow, but mostly mixed with rain and slush.

I haven’t seen any bulb plants (daffodils, crocuses) poking up thru the muddy, snowy ground yet; but I have seen robins up in the trees. Usually you see them on the ground, looking for worms; but that protein source will not be available for another week or two. In the interim, they probably know how to find other kinds of birdfood, like the sparrows and starlings survive on. They obviously were thinking of the recent mild winters we’ve had here in the Northeast. Surprise, this one was like the olden days. But the tougher the winter, the sweeter it is once it’s over. Or almost over, which is where we are right now.

This was my first winter since my mother died back in October. It’s been  »  continue reading …

OK, regarding the Jets / Colts AFC Playoff game this past Sunday. I was in a bar watching it with a bunch of people, mostly Jets fans. That’s something I haven’t done too much in my life. But now I’ve finally had the true Jets-fan experience. The first half was a lot of whooping and hollering and joyous hope. Lots of fun. Miracle dust was in the air.

But then came the second half, when the Jets shut down and the Colts kicked into gear. Neither the Jets’ offense nor defense could do anything right. It was a heartbreaker; another “miracle that never happens“. Something that long-term Jets fans have become used to.

So, I guess that this was my baptism into true Jetsfan-dom. I’m now a bona fide member of the gang-green community.