In the Nay-Vee

Monday, August 21

My son Michael, my first child, left home tonight to join the Navy. Actually, he left his mother's home tonight—he left mine yesterday morning.

Today all kind of thoughts and memories are going through my head, about raising him, playing goofy games with him, trying to get him to do the schoolwork he always hated. His silly laugh, when he'd tilt his head over and his eyes would crinkle and his smile curled really high, like when he was three.

When he was two Michael loved trains. I brought home a videotape of Buster Keaton's The General and he sat silently for almost 90 minutes—a record. Later it was jets, and some years ago, guns. Big guns—World War II guns—and also powerful, precise infantry weapons. His fascination with guns almost always went in the direction of military action, and he was always one of the good guys, there to look out for his buddies.

I have so many images of Michael. He didn't love doing chores but he always liked to help. He's always loved animals, and little kids, even when he wasn't much bigger than them. Michael has learned to be a little guarded over the years—it's hard to be a teenager without it—but he still has a basic guilelessness. He tells you what he thinks, and still accepts you as you are. He's just upfront, something that is too damn rare, and something I'm very proud of.

I remember a tiny little Michael sleeping in a snuggly sack on my chest, while I worked on the bathroom in the tiny house we first owned. I could lean down and kiss him on his little warm, bald head. I remember the shape of his head, and the little O he made with his mouth when he was anticipating a cereal spoon or toy. Years later, when I saw my cousin Vicki's first-born in a crib, I immediately recognized the shape of that head. There's Hardy blood in 'em both. It's funny, I always thought the kids looked a lot like their mom because they didn't look much like me, but put 'em in a room full of Hardys and there's no mistaking it. And grown up, Michael looks a whole lot like Vicki's twin brother Jim.

Some of the cousins came down this past weekend to give Michael a proper send-off. For some of them it was a two-hour trip each way. I guess they thought it was important too. And Navy runs in the family. Sorry, Cooney, we're squids.

I'm ambivalent about the thought of my son going off to any armed conflict—let alone one with questionable goals or reasons for being there—but it's the only thing he wants to do. He's passionate about it, and I can't help but be behind him and his decision. I am so proud of that kid.

First I must apologize for ignoring you all - though I do sometimes lurk.

Second, this test is dumb to put here because very few of you have even MET me, but Lene started it:

http://kevan.org/johari?name=Pappa+Hardy

Third, you can find my own, personal blog at:

http://billiblog.allzah.com/billiblog/

Fourth, love ya, be good.

Yeah, It's Been Awhile

"Too busy to post," same ol' lame excuse.

Just for fun, I took the HP character quiz:

You scored as Albus Dumbledore. Strong and powerful you admirably defend your world and your charges against those who would seek to harm them. However sometimes you can fail to do what you must because you care too much to cause suffering. Albus Dumbledore 85% Harry Potter 75% Ginny Weasley 70% Hermione Granger 70% Remus Lupin 65% Sirius Black 60% Draco Malfoy 55% Severus Snape 40% Ron Weasley 40% Lord Voldemort 15% Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...? created with QuizFarm.com

What struck me about Hurricane Katrina was how quickly everything you know could be gone. How tenuous our lives and the world around us really are.

I was thinking about the people who, one day, in the middle of their normal, busy lives, hear on the radio that a storm is coming. They still mow their lawn, watch a game on TV, take their kids to school, wave to the neighbors, wash their car, stay late at work, go out for drinks at the local pub, paint their house, walk the dog—all those normal things.

Four days later there is no lawn. No car. No house. No school. No pub. No street. No dog. No neighbors. No job. No money. No food. No water.

Nothing. It's all gone.

What would you do? What can you do?

Somehow, the storm warning makes it seem even creepier than the sudden catastrophe of the tsunami last spring. We have a natural tendency to ride "normal" like a wave, coasting along on reality like it's a surfboard, and totally—intentionally, often—not thinking about how easy it would be to fall off. We want to believe in solid things that won't disappear, but that is a construction that lets us get by day-to-day without freaking out. It's after the disaster that we wander around in a daze, confronted with the depth of that ocean of chaos. The veneer of normalcy is what lets us get on with life, and it's often what's missing in shell-shocked combat vets and severely autistic people. The mask has been permanently ripped away for them.

Now, it's not easy to get by if you're obsessed with the fragility of reality. That's why we're made the way we are—it's as important a survival mechanism to be able to forget as it is to remember things—but it's also good to occasionally take stock of the fact that NOTHING is permanent. All of existence is flux. There are no guarantees. And that person you're ignoring or that thing you're fighting over could be gone in an instant. We're all gamblers, betting that things will go on as before. But they never go on forever. And sometimes they stop suddenly, and sometimes it happens to someone you care about, and sometimes it happens to you.

If you can feel that horror, that sense that it's all illusion, even for a moment, then think of the people who it's happening to now. Maybe the only thing we can count on is that we living things have a common bond in our having to deal with survival and our eventual end. And maybe the only real action we can take to have any sort of control over our flimsy reality is to reach out and try to help someone else though the wreckage. Not just after Katrina, but everywhere.

One more for all you Kikkoman fans:

The return of Shrimp Tempura!

http://yoga.at.infoseek.co.jp/flash/kaijin.swf

(I've never seen a banana wave a crutch before.)

BTW, these are NOT wacky Japanese adverts but are fan flashes.