Another day

The new year comes and people get introspective. They make promises about behaviors to be changed. They tell their close friends and family how sorry they are for last year’s disappointments, and try to sell the highlights. It’s like a gentile Day of Atonement.

Within weeks, the promises are forgotten and the old behaviors have been repeated.

Nothing changes in a moment of commitment. No one acts a certain way because of a single wayward thought. We act as we do because of a life-long journey. Everything is cumulative. Nothing is wasted. Change comes over long periods of time. The only presumption is that time is available.

If time isn’t available, well, all things must pass, eh? A sunset doesn’t last all evening.

For those folks that don’t perceive their own mortality, those that only react within their world, a set of empty promises is a great thing. It gets them through the moment and into the next. A smile exists. That’s a wonderful thing.

Separate topic. My son – officially as of December 30, 2005, at the age of 15 years, 10 months, 25 days, and about 14 hours – has found his teenage angst. He has rewritten a brief moment of history purely to distance me. It doesn’t matter what I want, say, or am. I’m the dad and that ain’t cool. “Distance thyself,” thinks he. Another new reality in my life. It’s ok, it was a good ride whilst it lasted. I remember picking a fight with my father asking him what my favorite potato dish was. He said something. I yelled, “No! It’s mashed potatoes! See!! You don’t even know me!” I stormed away. I’m sure he was perplexed.