Full House

Have you ever had more to say than can be said? If there were enough words in the English language, in its current iteration, to express your thoughts and feelings at those moments, they would start rushing out of your mouth (or your fingers) with the power of the rapids of one of our Western rivers -- a power that can easily kill a man.

Can a story survive the death of the story-teller?

Of course, that is a no-brainer. But why are some of us so driven to indulge in this weird art form? What is the urgency we feel, especially as we grow older, and the shadows expand as the sunlight retracts? What is it we want to tell as if it were our last story?

***

Today, I had the parental pleasure of attending my 13-year-old son's end of season soccer party, in a big, lovely house that was built in the 1920s. The architect was a man who paid attention to the smallest of details, dictating in his plans what kind of doorknob would appear on every single door.

I told the current owner, our host today, how his house makes me feel. Although I am neither a design nor an architectural expert, I am very sensitive to my surroundings, and always have been. So what I told Richard is that his house makes me feel at peace, as if all the elements were so well integrated that we could never feel out of place, so to speak.

The soccer coach, a lovely fellow named Kevin, gave each of the players a team patch and said a few words about each boy and his attributes. When he got to Aidan he called him "the best pure athlete" on his team. Naturally, I swelled with fatherly pride. This boy has played sports since he was very small. Now he is rapidly rising to my height and beyond. I've watched him play soccer, baseball, basketball, cross-country, and many pickup games like kickball, dodgeball, and a host of others.

I have always been in awe of his speed, grace, strength, and that ineffable sense of presence he projects in these games. Most of all, I admire his sportsmanship. Win or lose, after competing with all of his heart, he shakes hands, walks off, and invariably tells me, "That was fun."

Of course! Games are meant to be fun. But in this, and other, societies, games are also big business. I cannot help but notice how many of the best athletes at the collegiate and professional levels are falling injured these years. Could it be that our immune systems are weakening? If so, the first victims would be our young athletes, getting hurt in ways that didn't used to happen.

I've never seen even a whisp of this idea in any media forum, so if this strikes you as possibly true, please recall later that you first read it here.

Why?

Well, dear reader, I am sorry to say that my consulting business has not yet proved to be very successful. I've come to realize that my whole adult life has been devoted to being a loyal employee of this company or that. Maybe I don't even know how to build my own business?

Certainly, self-promotion is not a strength.

Meanwhile, as our phsyical world continues to fall apart, each of us may wish to begin to ask, paraphrasing JFK:

Ask not what your planet can do for you. Ask what you can do for your planet."

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