Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Where Pigeons Turn to Bars of Gold

I do not know about you (Hell, there is a reasonable likelihood that although you are reading this I do not know you) but life surprises me on a recurring basis. That is the point of the exercise I suppose. There is an old nugget about Life being what happens when we are busy making plans. Sounds familiar; right? At least to me it does.

My son is a constant source of education for me - sharing things with the old man that I would never have any chance of stumbling upon myself if they were secured with crazy glue to the floor directly in my path of travel and avoidance of them seemed if not impossible then at least improbable. He reads and recommends to me to do likewise things that I would never consider reading myself - in large part because their mere existence is not known to me. Similarly he has opened my ears to music I enjoy a great deal that I otherwise would likely not have come across on my own, including The Gaslight Anthem, The Hold Steady and Jesse Malin. I need all the help I can get in the cultural enlightenment/education process. As long as he is willing to share the knowledge, I am happy to soak it up.

And Monday night he shared a bit of information with the Missus and me that reminded me again just how "adult" he actually is and how much I continue to rely upon him as a source not simply of information but of education and of enlightenment. The depths of what I know that I do not know are practically limitless, which I was reminded of again upon digesting what he told me/us. Whether fruit is borne from the seed sown is a matter of time, luck and proper nurturing of the seed. As of this day, it remains an issue incapable of being resolved until another day. Still, where light is found, hope exists.

Worth remembering perhaps precisely where it is that light is found - and therefore the existence of hope is confirmed - earlier than anywhere else daily.

Now the traffic in the flashing shadows of the final glow
Are just a rush of burning chariots driven by the ancient lure of home.

-AK

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