What If I Don't Like Cake?

Today is my 50th Birthday! Holy crap, when you say it like that. All the cliches apply. I don't feel any different. I look the same as I did yesterday. Everything still works the same, for the most part.

I used to refer to my birthday as inventory day. I would take the day to reflect on the previous 365 days and determine if my life was moving in the right direction. Some people call it a Cake Day. I don't think that's fair to people who don't like cake. I love cake. Don't believe me? I can take my shirt off to prove it. We re-brand everything. This is nothing new, it's just that our re-branding, like everything else, happens faster than it used to. You hardly get used to the new word for something before it becomes the old world for something.

My wife and I have been together 21 years. We realized a couple of days ago, as we were signing documents for work to be done on our house, that it was the 18th anniversary of the day we moved in. It's nice to know that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Being married to the same woman and living in the same house for so long may sound unexciting to some, but I am happy and grateful, and while there have been some low points, we really manage to keep it exciting, fresh, and interesting. We never had a honeymoon, so we decided our life now will be one very long honeymoon with breaks for work and family, etc. Life gave us lemons. We froze them for a while and now we're making margaritas!

Now that I'm at the half-century mark, I am supposed to have new perspectives and wisdom. I don't. My philosophy and worldview did not change overnight. From this point of view, age is really just a number. My knees may disagree.

I got my convertible a few years ago. This year, I got a motorcycle. Who knows what sixty will bring?

Adolfo Jimenez is an author, poet, and blogger. He lives in Hollywood, Florida. He has published ten books, which you can find here.

The Gray Hours

 The greatest con ever perpetrated against humanity, is convincing people that time is not precious. I am nearly fifty years old. Statistically, I have lived more than half the years I will get to live. I find myself in the interesting spot of anticipating my regrets. I am proactively thinking of things to put in the bucket list so I don't end up regretting things I didn't do.

I have always been an early riser. I also get by on relatively little sleep. I learned long ago to put this to my advantage though I need to remind myself of this every now and then. I need to remind myself that just because the day starts early for me, doesn't mean I get more time. I get 24 hours like everyone else. Wasting the extra hours I don't spend sleeping makes no sense. Might as well sleep.

I am in my new office, at my new desk in my house. I am in the gray early morning with a window to my left that faces east. The sun is up somewhere out there but it's still warming up so there is more shadow than light in this little room. Everyone else in my house is asleep. Even the dogs want nothing to do with the day. I'm glad for it. This is the part of time that belongs to me.

So, use your time wisely. Even when there is nothing that needs doing, don't waste your life doing nothing.

Adolfo Jimenez is an author, poet, and blogger. He lives in Hollywood, Florida. He has published ten books, which you can find here.

The New Timeline

 I am researching stand-up paddle boards. I've been contemplating the purchase for quite a while. The feeling comes and goes. I really want one! Can't live without it! And then something else comes along and grabs my attention and the board idea sinks. I can't be the only one who experiences this. Surely, there are others.

Of course, researching products will inevitably lead you to reading reviews. Reviews can be helpful and, perhaps incidentally, entertaining.

Lately, as I read reviews, the theme I keep coming across is the pandemic, specifically how the lockdown affected people's purchasing decisions. This is by no means a scientific thing, but I can't help noticing how the illegal government-mandated lockdowns affected people.

I won't go into it all as it's been played out. I only wanted to make one simple observation.

Time used to be designated as BC or AD. We are living in AD 2021. The way I have begun to look at time now is a different BC. It's Before Covid. I'd like to believe there will eventually be an AL, meaning After Lockdown, but I have no expectation that the government will ever be inclined to give back its power.

We are living in the Age of Covid. It was nearing its conclusion so the Delta Variant was released. I don't know much about it, but I know that it has already been weaponized by the state. I don't know there will ever be a post-lockdown world. I think we'll just watch Big Brother turn the volume up when necessary. 

I hope I'm wrong, but you and I both know I'm not.

Adolfo Jimenez is an author, poet, and blogger. He lives in Hollywood, Florida. He has published ten books, which you can find here.

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Death and Distance

It’s about five in the morning Montana time. The sun is out though not yet shining as brightly as I hope it will the rest of the day. I am in bed. I hear the familiar, rhythmic buzz of my phone. A call is coming in. Someone back home on the East Coast. Someone who doesn’t know where I am. Not that it matters. I’ll only be here a week. I hope I keep my sleep pattern just as it is until I return.

It is a family friend calling. My uncle in Cuba passed away in the night. My mother’s brother. My mom is still sleeping. That’s good. She needs her rest with all she’s been through. The friend asks if she should wake mom and tell her the news or would I like to tell her. I think this kind of news should be delivered in person whenever possible.

I sent a message to my cousin in Cuba, offering her my condolences for the death of her father. She called me a few minutes later. We chat and I again offer my sympathies. My wife is awake now and I tell her what has happened while we were sleeping. The family friend calls a few minutes later to let me know she has spoken with my mom. I call her and she is, understandably, upset. I tell her to stay calm and to not drive or stress herself out. She tells me that if the initial shock didn’t kill her, none of this will. Her little brother is dead. She has to tell her big sister, my aunt.

The news of my uncle’s death passed from Cuba to Hialeah, Florida, to West Yellowstone, Montana, back to Hialeah, to my mother, who was right next to the family friend who called me with the news in the first place. In the meantime, I spoke to my cousin, who is about two thousand miles away but only about three hundred miles away from my mother, who will eventually call her sister who is about ten miles away in Pembroke Pines, Florida.

Because my uncle died in Cuba, we will not be able to attend his funeral. We will not get together and share memories and laugh and cry the way one does to cope with the loss. We will talk or text. We may receive pictures but we will not hear the music or the sobs. Our shoulders will remain dry as we will not be able to offer them to comfort a relative. We will each grieve our own grief and cry our own tears. Our pain will be more personal. The loss will not be shared, but divided. Each of us will carry our own piece of it.

Adolfo Jimenez is an author, poet, and blogger. He lives in Hollywood, Florida. He has published ten books, which you can find here.