Ballad of the Troubador/Song of the Wayfarer

Forty days ago, I muddled along the bus routes and through the shopping centers of Brooklyn, looking for things that are impossible to find for being products of my own imagination. I was suddenly amused when I turned to look at the mannequins at Daffy's department store. They were in the process of being changed into different clothes, and at the moment I saw them, they were stripped naked.

Daffy's is not a typical department store. The slogan that parades across their shopping bags and wallpaper states, "Clothing bargains for millionaires!" a vague description at best. Suffice it to say that their clientele is not the same that is going to be shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue or Tiffany's. At least not yet. Daffy's in New York can usually be found in the vicinity of Old Navy and TJ Maxx or Marshalls.

Daffy's mannequins are also atypical of an ordinary collection of human figurines. As the name of the store might suggest, the mannequins are very cartoonish. Not at all like the mannequins you'd see at other, trendier stores, who have been sculpted with distinct anatomical detail, and leave very little room to the imagination. Daffy's mannequins, on the other hand, are all gold statues, and they don't look human at all, which is why it was all the more amusing and disturbing to see them naked.

I looked at the statues, I laughed, and I continued down the escalator. I got to thinking about something that I think about every six months or so, which was, "What am I doing? Where am I going with my life? And why does that stuff amuse me?"

I was at a crossroads and a turning point in my life. So many things still left to accomplish, and while some of them are in reach, they just seem so far away at times. What do I need? I'll create a list of priorities. I need money. I need a job that makes me happy. I need a woman. I need a plan. I need to be able to not have to depend on others. I need to turn my life around and get facing the right direction. I need to find my place in the world.

So I did what every logically thinking human being would do, I dropped everything and left.

Several events were coming up at home that I knew I wanted to be there for. There was the prospect of going to Minnesota, to visit my sister and to return a screen-printing machine. And on top of that there was the prospect of getting out of New York for a while, a long while.

In order for it to happen, I would have to count on a lot of things to work out somewhat miraculously to allow me to leave. I would have to take an extraordinary amount of time off work, which they were somehow at peace with. I would not be working for a month. I would not be able to be their go-to guy with whatever problems came up, and I would not be able to fill in if somebody didn't show up.

If I was going to leave for a month, I would have to still find a way to pay the rent. No problem, plenty of people are itching for the chance to live in New York on a commitment-free basis. So I sublet my room to a Bulgarian gentleman in town for the summer. He got my room while I was gone, and I received a large portion of my rent money.

I had to find a way there and a way back, which would complicate things. One of the reasons I was going was to haul a huge piece of equipment there to return to its rightful owner. The screenprinting machine I'd been using for the greater part of last year was not actually mine. I was babysitting it, and now the owner wanted it back. The only catch was that the owner lives in Minnesota, in the twin cities. As convenience would have it, the twin cities are not far from where my sister went to school in Northfield.

On the way back to New York, I was planning on stopping in New Jersey, to spend a week at a summer beach house my friends and I had all gone in on renting back in October.

So I rented a moving truck to haul the screenprinting machine and some other items home, and purchased a plane ticket for the ride back.

While at home, I got in touch with all the people I had missed. I saw my mom, my brothers, my grandma, aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole works. I got to see and spend quality time with many of the friends I grew to know so dearly when I was in high school. I saw a couple pairs of friends get married. I saw people who I knew I would run into, and I saw people I didn't expect to see. I saw people I'd seen a few months back, and people I hadn't seen for years. I saw people who didn't recognize me, and those that I didn't recognize myself.

All the while, I was asked the same questions by all of them, and all the while I always felt a little uncomfortable explaining my life story to them, along with the most recent addenda and plans for the future. I suppose that's what happens when you go away for a while, though.

After weeks gone by spending time at home cleaning the house, taking care of and spending time with my brothers, and helping my mom on the farm, I departed for Minnesota to complete my mission.

I drove all the way up through Iowa, to Minnesota, where I found my sister at college. She had just finished all her schoolwork that she would ever have to do, and it was now smooth sailing until graduation. It was a perfect time for me to visit. We spent the next couple days together. She cooked a lot. I met her dearest college friends, and we went out for a night on the town in Northfield. And I returned the screenprinting machine to its owner.

Before long, though, it was time to return home. So I took in the long drive from Minnesota down to Quincy. This time, the drive was made even longer by my detours in Mason City, Iowa, to see the Music Man exhibit, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to see Cedar Rapids and get a Maid Rite sandwich, and finally, Brandon, Iowa, to see the world's biggest frying pan.

My return home was appropriate, as I would not be able to attend Marissa's graduation, and she was going to come home again in less than one week.

Meanwhile, I was prepping for my return to the city. Before that was to happen, though, I was due in New Jersey for my annual trip to the shore. So, I got up to go to the airport early Saturday morning to fly to Philadelphia, where I would be met by my friends and a car. My sister ended up going to the airport with me a the same time, as she had a later flight to Honduras (don't ask me?).

I made it to Philly. She made it to Honduras, but we went our separate ways. I slept on the flight and on the way to New Jersey. When we arrived at our house in Jersey, it was something different than we've had before. I've gone on a trip to the Jersey Shore annually with some of my best friends that I've known since grade school. This was the first year we went without parents. We booked the house, we bought the groceries, and we had free reign of the neighborhood and the beach. The only downside was picking a week out of the year that happened to be mostly rainy.

While there, though, I got a lot of work done, editing photos, working on website, and updating my t-shirt stock. I wrote a thing or two while there as well. Since getting this handy laptop, I've been able to get a lot of things done in areas I normally wouldn't be expected to.

I played a lot of whiffleball, I got a nice tan, and I was introduced to my new favorite TV show, one of the funniest I've seen in a while, called Party Down.

After a while, though, even that week came to a close, and it was time to pack up and head home finally.

New York always feels amazing to return to, especially after you've been gone for a long time. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the rigors of daily living here, and forget why it is you live here in the first place. Every time I come back from out of town, I remember again. This time, though, it wasn't so easy, because this time it meant returning to work as soon as possible to earn a paycheck and some cash. And it meant returning to struggling and starving to make ends meet. It meant not having enough money to get the unlimited MetroCard that I hold so dear. And it meant facing the daunting tasks of making my career still set in front of me.

I didn't want to face it. I still don't. And the more I give myself a chance to think about it, the more I think that I don't fit in here, that I don't belong.

What am I? I don't know, but I sure don't belong here. The thing is though, if I didn't belong here, where did I belong? I didn't feel like I belonged anyplace I had just been; not Minnesota, not Iowa, not Quincy, and not New Jersey.

Anywhere I went, despite the people I know and love to make up those particular populations, did not make me feel like I wanted to stay. That's the problem with growing up the way I've grown up. I feel connected to so many different places, the result of moving across the country as a youngster, and going to college somewhere else, and finding (hopefully) a career and a wife somewhere else. I feel connected to the people that belong at these places, but I don't feel a connection to these places without those people. I don't have a place to belong to. I am a wayfarer, a troubador.

Travel is second nature to me. I do it so easily. It inspires me. And the only thing that makes me happy is moving along and seeing everybody.

I'm back in New York now, in the place where I always thought I would find myself belonging, but that hasn't happened yet, either. I'm returning to New York to find that many of the friends I've had here for the past year or two are now moving away or have gone. Other friends are exceedingly busy with their own lives and aren't as accessible as they were before. In New York, it's hard to see people repeatedly over short periods of time. Even though the city is so compact, and it's so easy to get around, it's still impossible to track people down unless they live in the same neighborhood as you do.

But that's ok. The ballad of the troubador states that we will meet again. As a troubador, nothing is set in stone. Lots of things are free to change near and far. Life is left to chance and fate.

But even a nomad has to call a place home, sometimes. I just hope that I find what it is exactly I'm supposed to do here. After being back for a few days, though, I still could not decide whether or not I belonged here. I could not decide whether or not I belonged here in New York, or somewhere closer to the rest of my family. The song of the wayfarer is such, that I cannot decide where to plant my feet.

To get me away from my homesickness, I went for a walk through Central Park. That always cheers me up. I walked past the Guggenheim Museum and it hit me. I stopped in my tracks and pulled out my phone to take a picture. I suddenly remembered why I live in New York. Exactly for things like that. It was a beautiful summer day. The grass was green and the sun was setting. The way the light reflected off the Guggenheim was simply breathtaking, and it inspired awe in me, so much so that I had to stop and think about it.

Ultimately, I think I want to call Manhattan home, though I don't feel I'm worthy of it quite yet. Manhattan is the reason I moved here, after all. I discovered Brooklyn almost by a fluke, but I'm certainly glad I did. It's the poor man's New York and it has a flavor all its own. Plus I can get to Manhattan anytime I want. Heck if I go one more flight up, I can look at it from my rooftop. There is a lot that might actually keep me here in Brooklyn. Maybe in the future, I might change my mind about Manhattan altogether.

For now, I am still a wayfarer, continuously searching for my destination.

Congrats, Grad! Now, What? I'm off to save the world!

A young man or woman walks into his or her guidance counselor's office with only a vague idea of what to talk about. The goal of this conversation is to figure out what colleges or universities said student should apply to, or if this student should even apply at all. This student, with the help of his or her guidance counselor wants to know what he or she should do with the rest of his or her life.

So many choices. So many options. How is one to know what the best choice is for him or herself?

The guidance counselor does not know the best way to alleviate this quandary, so he or she might ask the student, "well, what do you want to do?"

For many people, that is the worst question in the world to have to answer. If anybody had any idea what it was they wanted to do, would they seek guidance in the first place? Or would they seek what it is that they want?

When I was in high school, I had a vague idea of what I wanted to do. I did not know what it was, but I knew I wanted to do something big and profound. By the end of my high school career, my mission in life was to "change the world."

Vague and maybe somewhat difficult to gauge, but simple, nonetheless.

"Well, what is it that you want to do?"
"Nothing much, just to change the world."

(I've always had very grand plans for myself, but no method by which to actually execute them).

So, the guidance counselors don't know what to do in this situation, so they just give you the best suggestions they can come up with. They tell the student to go see an assortment of higher learning institutions, and pick one that suits him or her the best. If the student ends up not liking it, nothing will keep him or her there. Who knows? Maybe the student will end up getting a scholarship. It's worth looking into.

Let's say this student ends up going to a college or a university. Any old one, it doesn't much matter, because no matter where the student ends up, he or she winds up in his or her adviser's office, asking the next of all important questions, "What should I major in?"

To which the most common response is often the same of that was asked to the student not two years ago, "well, what is it you want to do?"

Even after two years of deep, provoking thought and self-examination, it can be difficult to answer this question.

But at this point in the student's college career, problems have arisen, and the world can no longer be changed in the conventional sense, yet it can at least be agreed that the world must be saved. And so the focus of the student in question will undoubtedly be on deciding what major and, in turn, college degree, is best for saving the world.

How to decide? How to choose? There are so many areas in which the world needs saving, and yet you are only one person. You could save the world by way of chemistry, economics, literature, or sociology. You could save the world by any number of ways that have not been discovered yet.

The aforementioned adviser will not know how to address this contemplation, either, and he or she will probably say something along the lines of, "well, just do what you like."

It's actually sound advice.

If a person performs a task that he or she enjoys, that person is more likely to perform that task well, even if it doesn't garner a great deal of wealth or notoriety. But that's not what we're talking about here. That's not the point of going to college, any how. We're talking about how best to save the world.

Even if a person doesn't know what he or she wants to do, chances are he or she will be able to find a way to save even a small section of the world by doing what he or she enjoys.

Getting the degree is a right of passage any more. It does not necessarily prepare anyone for the post-college experience. Not much can prepare a person for such things until one actually goes through it.

But when you hit trouble, when you hit rough times, at the very least you have your degree to act as a security blanket.

No degree will save you from having to start from scratch and actually figure out your life. Sometimes it takes multiple tries. But at the very least, one can take comfort in knowing that you're not actually doing it for yourself, but instead to save the world.

In some ways, I feel that college is a waste of time. It postpones the inevitable, it adds an unnecessary four years to adolescence. I am now three years removed from the college experience, and I'm not any closer to saving the world. It took me these last three years to leave behind the comforts of college and actually figure out my life (see above).

I can look back at the years of college and the years immediately following and say that I received a great education. People who didn't attend college can't necessarily say that, but it doesn't make them any less smart than people who did go to college. Furthermore, education has never made any one individual a better person than anybody else. Being educated and able to think critically about things and derive logical solutions doesn't make you a better person. Heck, three hundred years ago, almost nobody went to college, and in the grand scheme of things, we're really not that far removed from then.

For the people who spend half their lives in college, they have missed out on what it's like to not go to college. And vice versa. Anybody who hasn't worked in the kitchen of a restaurant doesn't know what it's like to be in there six days a week in unnatural heat, preparing meals that are just going to be consumed for their nutrients and then disposed of. And those people don't realize that they are being unreasonable when they ask for their food a certain way.

Four years of college doesn't necessarily teach a person manners.

But for every person who does something wrong or makes a mistake, there is another person trying to do right or correct that mistake. We're all trying to save the world, whether we graduated from college or not. And whether we do it in dry cleaning, insurance, food service, or entertainment law, we are all going to be part of the problem and part of the solution.

Congratulations on getting the degree, but unfortunately, it's not the degree that counts. It's your labor and contribution. There are people out there who need saving. Let's get to work.

Time to Panic

We are too busy to concern ourselves with problems too small. So we keep our problems at bay until they get out of hand. And then we they get out of hand, they get out of control!

And then it's time to panic. And despite what anybody says, people love a good panic.

If you think about all the news stories that have occurred over the past year, of any that come to mind, none of them are subtle. All of them are extreme! And the way the media has reported things, it has been one crisis after the other.

First global warming, then the economy, job losses, bank bailouts, auto industry, and swine flu. It never gets old. The news has no sympathy for its public when it comes to reporting their stories. They have neither a shortage of shameless journalists willing to take on the task nor shortness of breath if they can keep you listening. They'll do it anyway they feel like. As long as they get people to watch and read.

So when it comes to figuring out why it has come to this point, when all we pay attention to are emergencies, crises, and panics, who is to blame? Is it the media for giving us the news the only way we'll hear it, or is it us for building up a deficit to attention so large that we only really heed information when it is beyond our grasp?

We have too many watchers and waiters, and not enough doers and problem solvers. People need to realize that they are responsible for whatever action they take, even if is inaction.

We can't keep piling crises on top of one another because we will never get anywhere. There is a reason that "haste makes waste" is a saying, and it is because the saying is. And time and again, it gets proven.

Take charge of something before you actually have to, otherwise you'll get caught in a position you don't want to be in.

Our Fathers/Crossing the Threshold Into Adulthood

When we were younger we never realized how good we had it. When we were younger we didn't have a full understanding of what love was. We didn't understand adulthood, money, work, or family. We were just kids. We went to school, we took class pictures, we played at recess, and we had sleepovers. We went through the motions of a privileged childhood.

And even though our childhoods weren't adorned with taxi cabs, rich woven bedspreads, and expensive dinners, we still got to school on time. We all got our shots. And we were able to play on the basketball team. What more could kids ask for? We didn't know that we were privileged. We didn't know what all we had.

We didn't know that while we played Power Rangers with our friends after school, our dads were toiling away to make sure the lives we had were good enough. We didn't know the purpose behind singing in the choir, performing Christmas pageants, or playing tee ball.

But now that we're older, we've grown up, and we see that we never could have been the same if it weren't for tee ball.

What if I hadn't spent those summers coming up the ranks of the little league field? Would I be the same person today? Would I have the same friends? How much would our lives be different if our fathers hadn't wanted us to play little league baseball?

We sucked down juice boxes and dreamed of big league glory when all the while our fathers stood on the sideline coaching us to be the men and women that they wanted us to be.

We didn't know then that some day we'd have to grow up and replace the men that formed us. We didn't know at that time we would someday be expected to coach and to lead others.

There comes a point in growing up when you realize your life is never again going to be the same as it once was. When you realize that, and you move forward with your own life, and begin to take care of others besides yourself, it is then that you reach adulthood. I come to so many situations now in my life when I feel I am giving advice or instruction to those around me who are younger or more inexperienced than I am, and it makes me feel like an adult to be in that situation. It's strange to be my age and to be able to say, "well, when I was in your shoes, I did this..." But it keeps coming up.

It's hard to believe that I have grown up at all, but I guess when I look back at things, and look at how much more my younger siblings still have to face, I realize that I actually have come a long way.

My younger brothers are growing up in a completely different way than I and my sister did, and I'll probably never get over that. I'll never feel like they got the experiences that I did. They didn't get exposed to the same things, and more so, they don't appreciate the same things that I did and do now. This upsets me. But there is a generational gap among us and there will be more generational gaps among other groups further on down the line in society.

This is why our fathers passed down their behaviors to us to pass down to others. This is why they struggled so hard to make us appreciate what we had. We used to recite the Our Father and the Pledge of Allegiance day after day, not knowing what any of it really meant.

We used to sing in unison, "My country 'tis of thee/sweet land of liberty/of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died/land of thy pilgrim's pride..."

We referred to our fathers often, and without hesitation.

Now that our fathers have died, and this land becomes ours, will we know what to do with it?

Want Ad

Say what you want about Craigslist being a resource to stalk and kill people, but it is also a very useful tool to find people that you need at very short notice.

I had a recent spout of success when I posted four ads for four completely different things, and managed to find secure and reliable responses for all of them.

As does almost everything in my life, a few crucial elements all fell into place at the last minute before I departed on my one-month sabbatical from New York. Without any time to lose, and to make the most of my resources, my job was to set up a photo shoot for my t-shirt venture, find someone to sublet my room, secure a means to travel across the country and carry my cargo, find a way back, and prepare the way for my new roommate.

In one week, I managed to find several no-fee models for the photo shoot. I actually had to turn some away because I got so many responses.

While sorting through pretty faces to help sell my t-shirts, I found a subletter to rent my room while I would be gone on my Midwestern field trip.

With somebody taking my place while I was gone, I had to make sure it was all set up and ready to go before I left, especially since we just got a new roommate, aside from the subletter.

The new roommate was bringing with him a TV, bigger and flatter than the one we had previously. So, my job in this case was to sell the old TV and use the money to purchase a home theater system. Naturally I thought of Craigslist. I put an ad up for the old TV and had it sold and delivered by the end of the day. The home theater was as good as ours.


With that taken care of, my room occupied while I would be gone, my photo shoot all set up, and some money in my pocket, I set out to see if I could work another deal with the half-empty moving truck I would be driving halfway across the country to Illinois. It just so happened that there was a couple who needed some things moved to the Midwest from New York at the same time I happened to be traveling. They responded to my ad on Craigslist and we set up an arrangement without ever having met each other.

It was Sunday, the day before I was to leave. They packed my moving truck while I was at my photo shoot. After the photo shoot was over, I went back to get the truck, finish packing up my remaining things, and prepare for the next day. The next day I drove the truck to Cleveland, where I met friends of the guy who the stuff belonged to. After emptying my truck, I collected my fee, and moved along home, where I completed my journey the next day.

The photo shoot went smoothly. The pictures turned out really great.
The home theater is all set up and ready to play.
And the subletter moved in without a hitch and is living quite comfortably with my two roommates while I'm away.

These things might not have worked out in a city that's not so Craigslist-centric as New York is. In New York, Craigslist is the resource used most often, by professionals and amateurs alike to find housing, employment, and love, three of the most important things in life. And it is soundly based in trust of one person to another.

It is unfortunate in some cases when that trust gets broken and people get hurt. But when trust is implemented and used appropriately, there is nothing to lose.