The Large Man Chronicles

When I was growing up, nobody told me how much I would miss the sound of a well thrown football and the sting of its laces when it hits your hands. If “they” did tell me, I don’t remember. I would love to feel that again.

When a ball of any kind is thrown accurately, and is caught purely, and held securely, there is a satisfaction of senses that borders euphoria. The sight, the sound, and the feeling of catching a ball was what life was all about for me – until about 7th grade. Around 7th grade, the sight and the sound and the feeling of catching a girl seemed to supersede sandlot games. They’re two very different sports, but if you are passionate, you can get just as dirty and just as sore with either one.

Tom Waits is singing to me about how much he loves his ‘Jersey Girl’, his voice and his delivery are haunting – I believe he truly loves this girl. I’d like to get a look at her – she’s gotta be amazing. His passion is stirring mine.

Remember the sound of a baseball or a softball as it pops your glove? Remember what the ‘sweet spot’ of the bat felt like?

Remember when the sound of the Good Humor man’s truck bells would send you racing home to get a buck from your mom or dad? Remember how much it sucked when they said, “…we have ice cream in the freezer, Honey? Get yourself a bowl of that. It’s Sealtest, vanilla!” Then you looked out the window and saw all the other kids gnashing away on a Nutty Buddy, or a Toasted Almond, or a Strawberry Shortcake. Maybe one of your brothers or sisters, who managed their allowance a little better than you did, was partaking too…just made it worse. And even though you were only 7, you still said, “Fuck Sealtest” under your breath as you bent one of the “big” spoons trying to get the vanilla, grocery store bought, crap…tested by seals, out of the cardboard carton.

Remember what it was like to go to a record store? Could you spend hours in a record store and buy nothing? But on another day, could you go to a record store and spend $80 in 15 minutes?

Did your record store have the smell of incense burning, and the “under the radar” album being played by the arrogant music geek/weed dealer behind the counter? Do you remember how he or she looked at you with all that contempt when you bought a Bee Gees album, or maybe Earth Wind & Fire…and he was playing Dylan, Pink Floyd or Bonnie Raitt? Remember thinking that you couldn’t wait until you were a little older, and got a “real job”, like at a grocery store, or at a marina, and started making some serious bucks and you would drive back to the record shop, park in the front row in your brand new Trans Am, and buy all his inventory, and have him carry it to your car…your brand new Trans Am car? Remember how that revenge fantasy never came true?

Do you remember the first time you heard Bonnie Raitt sing Runaway? Remember how you thought the record store jerk at least got that one right?

But forgetting the jerk in the record store; do you remember how cool it was when a new record hit the stores? The ones that I remember racing out to get were, The Eagles, Hotel California, Van Halen II, Fleetwood Mac, Rumors, and Boston, Don’t Look Back, but I know there were hundreds more. I think I have somewhere in the neighborhood of about 800 LPs stored in my attic. I actually purchased a lot more than that, but my friend DJ easily stole about 2 or 3 hundred more from me. He never really understood the concept that when you take something without asking, it’s not “borrowing”, it’s stealing. What are you gonna do?

Remember listening to the album, and the words to the songs (we didn’t call them “lyrics” back then, they were “the words to the songs”) were written on the paper record sleeve, or on the inner fold of the cardboard album jacket? Remember when the words seemed like they were written just for you? Remember how you could listen to just one song over and over…and over and over again?

Remember the subtle sounds of the pops and the static and the scratches when the needle first touched down on the record?

If you’ve ever caught a fish, do you remember what it was like when you were little, and how unbelievably exciting it was to reel that sucker in? If you haven’t been in a while, you should go – that feeling never goes away. I need to go again.

Remember the first time you put on a uniform? Football, baseball, soccer, basketball…cheerleader…whatever? Remember how cool it was? Did you get butterflies before games? Did you love the butterflies, or did you hate them?

Remember how amazing Abbey Road was? Remember how crazy all that Beatlemania stuff was? Paul was dead? Remember how cool their movies were? Remember how bummed you were when you got the news that they broke up? How stupid it seemed?

Remember watching someone changing a diaper, and thinking there is no fucking way I will ever put my hands that close to that nastiness? Then after you had a baby of your own, well…

Remember the campfire story, “Give Me My Golden Arm”?

Remember the first time someone of a different race was in your house? Did it seem like a big deal? Doesn’t that seem ridiculous now?

When you were a kid, could you lie in a grassy field and just stare at the sky, watching clouds…by yourself, or with a friend. Could you stare at the stars at night the same way?

Remember what it was like when the guy or girl who was the object of your affection looked back at you and smiled? Do you remember that energy? Do you remember that anticipation of seeing “the object” after they turned into a boy/girlfriend, and it was “a thing”? You “like liked” each other. Did you get butterflies? Did you love those butterflies?

Do you remember the first time you slow danced with a real girl or boy? Again, butterflies?

Will you ever admit to anyone that you sang along with The Captain and Tennille’s Love Will Keep Us Together? Or any Leo Sayer song?

Do you ever miss any of that stuff?

I do, but only in a fun way. I love the thought of what it might be like to experience and feel all these soul stirring things and events just one more time, because they were all amazing. It’s fun to consider how I might appreciate it all more today, because I understand the magic of it all.

But on the other hand, if you understand the magic while it’s happening, it’s not really magic anymore…it’s just a thing.

Thanks for reading.

Send me a note and tell me what you remember!! There is a comment section here, or please feel free to comment on The Large Man Chronicles fan page on Facebook. Or, if you prefer to keep the dialog just between us, send me an email at thelargeman@gmail.com

So you just graduated. Now what?

If you just graduated high school, maybe you’re going to college, or maybe not. Maybe you want to work a couple of years and see what the world is like…maybe you have to work a couple of years because college is becoming something that’s simply not in today’s budget, and the thought of six figure unsecured debt at the age of 22 is not appealing to you. That’s understandable, and wise.

Just got out of college? Maybe you’re on the interview circuit, or… maybe your hard work, your specific marketable degree, and a little bit of self-manufactured luck, has landed you a job. Still, the question remains; now what?

It’s just two words, but a huge question and concept; Now what? I have empathy for you. How on God’s green Earth can you pick “What”, when anything is possible?

Fortunately for you, your parents are subscribers to a sort of semi-monthly blog page called, The Large Man Chronicles, and I write it. And I’m full of wisdom, experience, and lessons. AND…I’m generous with them.

Experience is the key word on my resume. I’m not the brightest dude in the world, and even though, technically, you could say I went to college for over 7 years, I’m not well educated in the formal sense. It was mostly just weekend visits, and a series of classes that were never completed. So yeah…let’s just focus on my experience.

Here’s my experience: I’ve been working, on and off since I was 16. I have had people beg me to work for them, and I have been fired. I have excelled at things, and I have sucked at things. I have broken laws, and defied “the system”, and I have been stripped of my freedoms. I have almost died. I have had several broken bones, even broke my face once. At some time or another, I’ve disappointed people who are close to me…and…I’ve had my heart broken by lovers and friends and family. I have also made those people beam with pride. I’ve helped people whom I’ve never met. I’ve missed cries for help that were right in front of me. I’ve traveled a little, and I’ve seen the very best and the very worst of people during the very best and the very worst of times. I’m 54 years old, and I have lived.

And, most importantly, I’m not your parent…so…
Based on these experiences, I have compiled a series of Life Rules, Things to Consider, and Truths, to help you navigate these tricky and treacherous waters as you launch your ship into “the real world”. These are listed in no particular order, just plucked from the lists where I think they might apply to you.

Truth # 1
There’s no such thing as the “real world”. The world is what you make it, and it constantly changes.

Truth # 1-1/2
NOTHING is fair. BUT, because nothing is fair…it’s ALL fair. There are rules that need following, and considerations to be made, but in the end, it’s ALL on you.

Thing to Consider # 23
You are entitled to nothing. Nobody owes you anything…actually, not even respect. You earn respect. Respect doesn’t come with a title, rank, or a degree; things like respect, courtesy, and kindness come to you as a result of your behaviors, actions, and reactions. Very simple thing to consider, you almost always get what you give.

Truth # 351
Pretty much all of life’s social mysteries can be answered in a Seinfeld episode, a Chris Rock stand-up routine, or the movies Forrest Gump and Pulp Fiction.

Thing to Consider # 7
While the world and humanity in industrialized nations may be evolving, pierced eyebrows and oversized gauges still don’t play well in job interviews. Appearance isn’t everything, but unless you’re one of the best, (and if you’re reading this, well…) and your reputation precedes the interview, you need to look nice. If looking nice by someone else’s standards goes against your belief system, learn how to make it on your own, or learn how to say, “You want fries with that?”

Thing to Consider # 8
Pull your fucking pants up.

Truth # 3
Having money makes things easier. However, money will NOT make you happy, but poverty won’t either. If you are human, happiness comes from other places. This truth is critical to living a good life.

Life Lesson # 5 (With regard to, and to be applied to Truth # 3)
The biggest jerk I knew in high school became very wealthy. He was no longer a jerk after he became rich, he changed into an asshole. Based on my experience, the acquisition or accumulation of money seems to accentuate the core of the person. With money, one seems to become more of what they already are. The insecure person becomes paranoid, the jerk becomes an asshole, and the generous person becomes a “foundation named after them” kind of philanthropist. While there are always exceptions, this is almost always true.

Truth # 41
Now is the time to gamble on you. Your risks and your fallout are minimal. Most likely you’re not married, and you don’t have children. BUT…gamble on yourself with your own collateral – whatever that may be. Don’t leave your loved ones in a constant state of worry as a result of your gamble. Apply common sense where needed.

Addendum 1 for Truth #41:
While now truly is “the time”, it must also be noted that it is NEVER too late!

Thing to Consider # 2
Don’t be afraid to fuck up.

This is very different from being a “fuck up”. One who is a “fuck up” is a person who gets more than one DUI, or gets busted for weed time and again, or doesn’t show up for work because they had a bangin’ weekend at Dewey Beach, and just couldn’t make it back to town. Continued transgressions of the same ilk will make you appear to be a “fuck up”. A “fuck up” doesn’t pay their child support.

You can’t say, “Oh, I fucked up, I didn’t go to work this week”, or, “I fucked up and didn’t pay my child support…”. Those are not mistakes, those are conscious decisions, made by a fuck up.

I’m saying, “fucking up” as in making a mistake; gambling on yourself, chasing a dream, reaching for the stars…and then crashing to the ground, because it didn’t work out.

PLEASE TAKE NOTE…I’m passionate about this one. I know brilliant people with brilliant ideas who never raise their hand, never step up to the plate, and never go for it, for fear of failure. It is the saddest thing in the world to me. Every idea needs to evolve, almost every great thing started out sucking. Don’t be afraid to suck. Think about the finished product, not the first ingredient.

10 times over, I would rather work with a person who has a few mistakes on their resume than someone with a “perfect record”. A perfect record means one of two things to me:
1) Bullshit. With a capital B
2) No mistakes? No effort. You never really extended yourself.
I have no time for that. A good employer won’t either.

Life Lesson # 17
Take care of your teeth. Brush, floss, get a cleaning every 6 months; this is a LOT less expensive than corrective dental work.

Thing to Consider # 12
My generation, and the Monsanto Corporation, has created a shitty world of food for you and your generation. You need to straighten it out. Even though I personally had nothing to do with it, I’m really sorry.

Truth # 2
If you don’t find your passion, you won’t truly live. You can exist without passion; I think you can even be happy without it. I know many people who live very productive lives (by normal standards) who can’t tell you anything they’re passionate about. But…
…your symphony will be unfinished.

I know a dude who is a competitive rifleman, he shoots targets. That’s it…that’s what he does for fun. He also has a job, but it’s just a job. He has a special shooting outfit and everything. It’s the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard of.
But…
…it thrills this dude to points of exhilaration that I am constantly in awe of. It is his P A S S I O N! I don’t get it, but I don’t have to get it. When he reads this, he’s gonna say, “Dude, you just don’t get it…” He gets it – and that’s all that matters.

You need to do this too. (Not necessarily shooting, but something) We all need moments that stir our soul. A life without passion is just something to get through – Who needs that? Don’t just get through it! Feel it, dance with it, wiggle your toes in it, sing to it…let it sweat through your pores! If you can incorporate a passion with your vocation, you are truly living the dream.

Life Lesson # 11
Don’t be afraid to tell people you love them. You never know when it’s your last chance. Regret is mankind’s second worst emotion, so you need to avoid it whenever possible.
BUT…and this is a big “but”…If you tell someone you love them, treat them like you love them. Your words of love will comfort and coo them to sleep at night; but your acts of love are the blanket they will sleep under. If you fail with this, if your actions betray your words, eventually those words will mean nothing; and in time they won’t even be heard. This is always true.

Truth # 5
The truth is always the truth. You can run from it, but it’s faster than you are, and it will catch you. The sooner you learn not to fear the truth, to live in and with the truth, the happier your life will be.

Thing to Consider # 40
Arrogance is loud. Confidence is quiet.

Life Lesson # 6
Helping others makes you feel better. Sometimes your help will go unnoticed or unappreciated. Learn to let your charity be its own reward. You will sleep better, I promise.

Truth # 105
Participation trophies are bullshit.

Thing to Consider # 106
There is nothing wrong with a trophy wife.

Truth # 106
Trophy wives are the leading cause of expensive divorces.

Truth # 4
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS LUCK! You can get lucky, but you can’t count on it. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect.” This is as true as anything written on this page. Luck is the intersection of opportunity and preparedness…hard work is what gets you to that intersection.

Life Lesson # 66
Take advantage of any opportunity to learn; step outside your box and your comfort zone. If your major is engineering, take a creative writing class. If you’re an art history person, take a class in journalism, or animal husbandry…round yourself. It makes you more interesting…more human.

Grades are important, and in many cases, your GPA will get you an interview. But the human connection you make with the person you’ll be working for is what will get you the job. You will have a better chance of making a connection if you have a wider inventory of things you can talk about. This is almost always true.

Finally…

Life Lesson # 1
In my second point on this page (Thing to Consider #23), I stated that you were “…entitled to nothing.” That’s only true in the material sense. In a kind of spiritual sense, and I think by virtue of the United States Constitution, or maybe the Monroe Doctrine…I’m not sure which one it is, but I know that some historically significant document states that our Creator says we are entitled to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

The Pursuit of Happiness…that’s nice. I like that. You are entitled to that, so go do it. Go forth and pursue some happiness, and NEVER stop.

* * *

That’s all I got for now. It took me 54 years to learn these things. You have them right now. You’re welcome.

Tell your mom & dad to let me know how you’re doing.

Be well, and I’m serious, fix that food thing…

The Large Man

I lost a companion today, an inanimate object that is actually the definition of a companion for someone like me. It has me a little bummed out.

I was standing at baggage claim#23 in the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, and my heart sank as I watched my forest green with khaki accents, American Tourister, Kenya Series, 26” roller bag suitcase make its final trip around an airport baggage carousel. I’ve seen this bag make that turn more times than I can count. I shuddered as I saw the clear cellophane shrink-wrap applied in two places on the bag. It was bound so tightly that the top and bottom of the lid puckered away from the storage area of the bag.

It was done. The zipper gave out from too many years of being pushed to its limits…carrying home micros for Bobby D, Victoria Secret sundries for my wife, and bargain price khakis for yours truly. But just like every other trip (and there have been hundreds), everything that I put inside that bag when I left Pittsburgh was right where it was supposed to be when we arrived in Dallas. That bag did its last job just as well as it did its first job. It was just a suitcase, but I’m going to miss it.

I can tell you everything about the day and even the moment I acquired my forest green, 26”, American Tourister, Kenya series suitcase. This thing, this mundane possession represents a moment in time that I knew I would remember forever; or maybe better explained, it was a moment I vowed to never forget.

Flying into Greenville-Spartanburg airport in a little regional jet on a stormy Monday afternoon in April; it was one of those flights that made you feel like you were in a Cuisinart. I was well blended when I walked off the jet ramp and made my way to baggage claim. I was only a couple of years into the traveling salesman thing, and the family and I were still adjusting. I had a 15 month old son, a 3-year-old daughter, and a stay at home wife… and all of them had the flu, or strep, or typhoid…something, and they were really struggling as I left our house early that morning.

There are few things that make a man feel more “manly” than leaving sick children with a sicker wife, and boarding a plane for the wild blue yonder. I felt bad for leaving, I knew that I shouldn’t have left, and I was sure that the bouncy plane ride was God & the Universe lecturing me for my thoughtlessness.

So I grab my high-end, high impact, light gray, roller bag off of the carousel, and as if to put an exclamation point on the lecture, or maybe to make sure that I wouldn’t dismiss the air turbulence as just a coincidental happenstance, God & the Universe popped the zipper on my overstuffed bag, and exploded all my personal items into the baggage claim area.

The carousel was still running, so I had t-shirts on the floor, and underwear and socks making their way down the conveyor. A can of Faultless spray starch hit the terrazzo at just the right angle so it sprung a leak and hissed out the anti-wrinkle juice as it rolled across the floor. Shirts and pants everywhere, pretty much everybody in my general area was staring at me.
I gathered my stuff, and used a windbreaker jacket as a makeshift fastener to keep the bag closed, loaded the damaged goods into a rental car and went to see a customer.

Do you ever spend time with people, business or social, who have to recite you their resume, or their education credentials at least 2 or 3 times during the conversation? Does it annoy the living shit out you? Have you spent time with someone like this after your suitcase exploded right after a terrifying flight when you left your sick wife and children at home? How was that for you? For me, it kinda sucked.

“Well, I think it goes without saying that our company is the only one of its kind, and I’ve single handedly led us into…blah blah blah blah f-ing blah. I realize you’re here for training, but I’ll be happy to teach because I did this for …blah, blah, blah, and I invented blaaaah…”

He said stuff, but all I really heard was “…Blahhh”. My mind would have been elsewhere on a good day, with this ass clown…today, I was about 1,500 miles away. I got through the meeting, and made a reasonably respectful, but hasty exit.

“Thanks, Mort. I learned a lot today. I’ll see you soon” I said as I hustled out the door. Under my breath, I said, “Fucking douche bag…”

So it’s time to buy an emergency roller bag, the windbreaker fix wasn’t going to get us home. Fortunately there is a great outlet mall just north of Spartanburg, and as luck would have it, a luggage store was smack dab in the middle of the place.

I knew what I wanted, I walked in and told the clerk my requirements, and just as we began to look over the merchandise, my cell phone buzzed. My caller I.D. indicated that it was Mrs. Large Man, so I asked the clerk to excuse me; he graciously stepped away so I could have some personal space to experience more guilt and anguish.

“Hey” I said.

“I’m sorry. Can you come home?” … short and to the point, statement and question…barely audible through the scratchy throated sobbing, with a two part harmony chorus of babies crying in the background. “I thought we would be okay, but we’re not.”

“Of course I can. I never should have left. I’m sure it’s too late for me to get out today, but I’ll catch the first flight I can tomorrow, and I’ll get there” I said.

“OK, I have to go.”

And that was that. The line went dead…empty. Just like my heart. What kind of man leaves his family in this condition?

Oh…it gets better.

The clerk waits patiently, doesn’t seem to notice my dismay or my soul exiting my body, and I ask him if he can give me one more minute while I make another call.

“Of course, sir. Please take your time.” (Good dude)

I felt I should call my boss, who is fairly new at his position, but is a “brother in arms”, so to speak…a traveling dude with a young family just like mine. I’ve never come home early from a trip, and I wanted to simply inform him of my family’s condition, that I was coming home early, and I would probably be out of the office for a few days. At that point, I had not used a day of sick leave with this company…not a single day.

I told my tale, and when I finished, there was silence.

“Hello, Joe? You still there?” I asked, as I made sure the call didn’t drop.

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you sure you need to come home? It’s gonna cost a couple hundred bucks to change your flight” he said. (Our company was about a 25 million dollar operation)

My soul came back into my body at that point, and rested itself firmly into my core, my spine.

“Yeah dude. I’m sure. Thanks for your compassion.”

“Compassion doesn’t have anything to do with it. We all have jobs to do; we can’t come running home every time our wives have a bad day.”

“Okay”, I said. “I won’t come home every time my wife has a bad day, but I am coming home tomorrow, and I’ll probably be out for a couple of days. Call me if you need me” and I flipped my phone shut.

And then I meant to say “Fucking douche bag” under my breath, just as I had an hour or so earlier, but I actually said it out loud. And for the second time that day, everybody in my general area was staring at me.

I felt my face go flush, and my body tremble, as I processed the conversation. I hope those of you that don’t know me will trust me when I tell you that at my core, my general nature is that of kind and loving man – I’m a hugger. Hopefully, those of you who do know me would agree. But when I get angry, it’s something like an out of body experience. I can’t think or talk, I can barely breathe, and I definitely shouldn’t shop. All reason and common sense leaves me.

The patient and kind clerk approached me and saw a “look”, before he said anything; I simply stated that I need to get a suitcase and, “… I don’t have time to mess around.”

“Yes sir”, he replied.

I walked over to my 26” Kenya series bag and asked, “How much?”

“It’s $265, and it comes with the matching duffel.” Probably too expensive, but…

“I like the green and khaki” (I thought the green would make it more recognizable on a baggage carousel with all the other black or gray bags. Over the years this proved to be true)

“I’ll take it. If you’re ever someone’s boss, make sure you treat them and their family with respect.” I said, and I handed him my AMEX card.

“Ah…ok…um, I’m not a manager or anything. Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No dude, you were great. I appreciate your patience while I was on the phone” I said, as I came crashing back into the present and conscious world. “That was just some free advice. I just had a bad experience on the phone. You did a great job, I’m sure you’ll be in charge here someday. Tell your boss I said to give you a raise.” I concluded our conversation with a wink and a smile. I signed the receipt, and I rolled my new bag into the parking lot as a light sprinkle started to fall. The rain felt good; it had a cooling effect.

I got to my hotel; secured a flight home, cracked open a beer, and started packing clothes into the new American Tourister. I replayed the phone call with the boss in my head, and thought of a million things that I should have said. I’m glad I didn’t, I’m glad I that I was able to simply put another tally in the “Experience” column. I took a deep breath, and I swore that I would remember this day forever, and that I would be a little more discriminate when it came to picking employers, and I have been.

Today, if I called the man who does my annual review – the guy I call “boss”, and told him that my family needed me to come home; his first words would be “Why the fuck are you wasting time calling me? Get your ass home.” Then, he would ask if there was anything he could do for them until I got there. This is working relationship that will last…like my green & khaki suitcase has lasted…until today.

Other than a mother’s love, and unflattering pictures on the internet, nothing lasts forever, so I shouldn’t make a big deal about it. I knew the bag was tired, and I knew the time was coming, but just like so many of us do with an old dog, cat, or goldfish, we try to put off the inevitable. We do this because we know how hard it is to replace things that we love, things that we believe in and count on, things that last…even if it’s just a suitcase.

Thanks for reading.