Thoughts on 2011

It is the end of the year and the quiet time spent reflecting. There will probably be a billion words written about 2011, so why not add a few more. This year saw some amazing beginnings for me, and endings too. It isn't sad as much as it always is so melancholy. I wonder to myself if this is the result of my Midwestern upbringing? The chilling cold of winter has lead modern society to calling this melancholy a seasonal effective disorder. We try and rationalize that this must be a sickness of some kind. Maybe being human requires it as a natural part of the condition. That we all need the quiet, a bit of Auld Lang Syne, and a bottom to make the tops even sweeter. This year has been one of both bottoms and tops for me, with joyous defeats and bittersweet victories. Above all I am a lucky man, and I am made of Winn.

My relationship ended. That sucked. The entire affair was doomed from the start, and what's worse is that I knew it. Let's just say that I thought it might have ended better. That I blame myself much more than her is the kindest way I can characterize my feelings. 

Being in love with someone's potential, no matter how wonderful that potential may be, is the basis for every abusive relationship anyone will ever hear or see in your life. I was emotionally self-abusive; she was emotionally abusive to me as well. I can rationalize and say it was from lack of experience but that doesn't change the reality of it. It sucked so bad that the idea of continuing the struggle was just as painful as the idea of ending it. Almost a literal translation of the devil you know versus the devil you don't.

Along the way I had three other lovers this year. One relationship is amazing, if geographically and physically impossible. I am scared that this is just infatuation and she will tire of me soon. The emotional high is like I imagine heroin. When we interact it is magical. What is it with me and impossible love affairs anyway?

The second lover was incredible and not just in a physically beautiful sense. She also opened up some emotional parts of me that I thought had atrophied or rotted away. She found them, and I am infinitely happy she did, but I was sad when she left my life in such bad form. We both knew she was going. Hell, I was surprised that she stopped by on her way. When she left she showed me such a careless and massive amount of disrespect that I had to cut her out of my life completely. This is something that I don't like to do. I am friends with many of my ex-lovers after all, just not so many of my ex-wives.

I miss her, but part of ending my primary relationship and growing as a person was exercising my personal demons of codependence and self loathing. I did not deserve how she treated me, and I will no longer allow that from anyone. Never mind that she showed me how to fix other parts of myself. Never mind that she was, possibly without equal, the most beautiful physical specimen of a woman I have ever been with. Never mind even that she showed me that my relationship with Carol was doomed.

The third lover was sweet like candy and really wanted much more than I was prepared to give. I don't even know that she wanted it from me exactly, but she will need to experience it before she can realize that she has value. I feel bad that her life is on hold, and that she'll spend a few years locked up, but I didn't make her mistakes and I did try to help her. 

On other fronts I had an amazing year with my son. He has become much more a young man this year, and he is experiencing the world in a much more intellectual way. We have had some amazing discussions and we have some great days together. I can't wait to share more as he grows up. I keep wondering how I helped raise such a thoughtful child. In that he is very different from me, his mother, and his sister.

My relationship with my daughter was rocky as always. I am so proud of her. She is such a strong, powerful, and beautiful woman. She is also such a great parent. Even though we disagree on many things and speak only infrequently I love her dearly, and I want the world to know how much faith I have in her. As an aside my grandson is cute and smart. It is so obvious that he is loved and well cared for.

My father is still the strongest man I have ever known. He has such quiet strength. As my mother's condition worsens visibly he has this seemingly ever flowing wellspring of love and strength for her and everyone else in the family. I have no idea how he does it. Still, they are together in their 49th year of marriage. That in itself is almost as inconceivable as the idea of them ever being apart.

I haven't ever said this aloud before except in strictest confidence, but I think it is likely that her Dementia and Alzheimer's will force my mother to be placed in a facility. Probably within the next eighteen months. That is awful in ways I lack the words to express, but I fear for her and for my father if she isn't placed at some point. 

My brother got a huge promotion with a different and challenging job and a nice raise. His sons are strong and happy. He and his wife are married almost 19 years now. Time flies. I was so happy that his family could join the rest of us for Thanksgiving this year. We were a motley crew, but love conquers all. With my mom getting worse I always wonder if this event or that one will be the last. I am hopeful we will have a few more.

My sister is still the best person I know. She's stronger, smarter, and more successful than many men who think they know what those words mean. She seems to have reached every goal she's ever set for herself and she's so humble she doesn't even admit it.

As for me I have accomplished one of the most significant goals of my life overall. I finished the draft of my first novel in November. I think that the book is going to be called "Never Quit". I have an editor and Shannon and I are working on it now. I hope to publish in the next few months, maybe by spring.

It isn't a light read. It is dark, ugly, and funny in different parts, sometimes even all together. It is written in extemporaneous voice. One of my friend said it reads like a modern beat novel. He actually used a specific writer's name. I wouldn't dare to make that comparison. I won't dare to even share it with you here. In my wildest dreams I wouldn't dare.

So far none of the readers I sent it to have hated it. Though it seems I still have a wicked and disturbing fascination with comma splices, semi-colons, and em-dashes. 

I also got laid off and am currently unemployed. The economy is complete and utterly awful. Things look pretty bleak for me professionally, so a big win on the lottery would be awesome, thanks.

Did I mention I love my roommate? Emily is everything I have wanted in a roomie but was never lucky enough to get before. She loves me and cares for me. She also knows I feel the same way about her. She doesn't mind the women in my life, and for the most part I don't mind the men in hers. John loves her too. She's an awesome person and probably my best friend in the world right now.

In a year that saw me both betrayed and abandoned by some of my dearest friends, and one of my oldest friends, Emily is one of the brightest stars in my sky. Every time I think of the ugly truth of misanthropy I have her to teach me, guide me, and humble me into grateful acquiescence. Well, at least I don't scream at stupid people in the street as much.

I love you all and thank you for your continued support, love, friendship, and wisdom. I am a fortunate man and I know it.

Who is he?

Hello there, my name is Ross Winn, and if you are reading this I might know you. If I bore you, anger you, or frighten you please feel free to ignore or block me. Just don't ask me to change.

I am a 45 year-old unemployed guy. I have three ex-wives, two children, and one grandson. I've done a lot of different jobs in several industries. Basically they all boil down to two things. I am a can-do person with a customer-centered attitude. There are many opportunities and I need to find a new one.

I am proud to say that this year I have written a first novel. I think it will be called 'Never Quit', but I am still working on it. The first draft is done, I have an editor, and the process is ongoing. I hope to shop the book for publication this spring. With any luck by June.

I am a techno-fetishist and love gadgets that do things well. I have been an Apple purist for decades, but am currently enjoying an extended tryst with Android devices. Most especially my Sprint EVO 4G. I consider myself a digital and connected individual, but I still love Sharpie(tm) markers and index cards.

I am politically progressive, LGBT-friendly, and kink-aware. I also do not believe in hiding on the internet. If you do a Google search for my name you will see what I mean. 

I am a misanthrope but I do not tolerate hate speach. Not even against stupid people.

I played, wrote, and developed RPGs since my eleventh birthday. I have been unable to participate in any in years. I believe the hobby that defined much of my life is dying and it saddens me.

I was a concerned and committed Christian for most of my life and a member of the Episcopal Church. I have explored Judaism, Atheism, Agnosticism, and other belief systems. However the one that most defines me currently is Buddhism. I am no better a Buddhist than I was a Christian. I still drink, I eat meat, and I engage is socially dangerous behavior.

Some people love me, and some despise me, and I can live with both. I hope you stay a while. I hope you engage in a conversation. I hope that you understand that we are friends because our lives are different, not because our lives are the same.

Peace to you in your journey,

Ross Winn

Well, it's official. I've been replaced...

I spent Thanksgiving day with my extended family. When I say extended, let me explain:
Roger & Sandra Winn (my parents)
Ross Winn and John Winn (me and my son)
Scott & Deidre Winn with their two sons Blaine & Jack (my younger balding brother, his wife and two boys)
Amy Winn (my younger, prettier sister)
Whitney Winn & Michael Sigsbey with her son Dimitri Harding (my daughter, her boyfriend, and my grandson)
Robert & Cheryl Grimes (Deidre's parents)
Peggy Gray (my Mom's sister by choice)
There were also the dogs, but unlike some members of my family I do not consider them siblings.

Everyone was being very dodgy about what I should or should not make for Thanksgiving. I ended up just making dressing, which is strange.

From the time I left the restaurant business in about 1990 I have cooked every Holiday meal that we have eaten as a family. It was a source of great pride for me, and I received hundreds of compliments over the twenty years. However all good things come to an end, and it appears that I have been ended, metaphorically. It seems my sister and father conspired to allow my daughter to prepare the lion's share of the meal. I was quietly appalled.

(Un)Fortunately the meal was a complete success. Whitney did an amazing job of everything, and even her gravy was excellent. I was torn between resenting the hell out of being replaced and also having a great deal of pride in my daughter's cooking. She explained away her own compliments by saying, "I learned cooking from my Dad." That she also asked my opinion on several techniques which was flattering, even though she didn't always use my answers.

We haven't all been together, my brother with his family, my sister and I all three for Thanksgiving in ages. I haven't had both my children and my grandson all together with my brother and sister on Thanksgiving ever in my life.

It was a wonderful day; there were no tears, no fistfights, and nobody died. I love my family, and I had a very happy Thanksgiving.

Now I think the tryptophan is kicking in...  ZZZ zzz ... ...

So Bob Left...

So I was looking at my browser today and my favorites bar is crowded with Googlish goodness. It occurred to me that the intellectual real estate these little icons claim in my browsing life is quite the triumph. That I am also using Google Chrome is not lost on me. Chrome has grown from a clunky, and moderately shitty browser to a much leaner and well-made solution than any of the other competitors. I could go on, but that is not my focus today. My focus is Bob.

During the time that Laura and I were married her mother met and married a lovely man. Bob and his former wife were at my second wedding. They had been friends of Laura's family for many years already. Bob's wife died suddenly, or at least suddenly to me, and one of the people who was there for him was my Mother in Law, Eloise.

After a year or two their relationship had a turn for the decidedly odd. They were both, or seemed to me, pretty surprised that they were dating, then engaged, then married. It was a lovely wedding. I was there and my son looked so amazing in his miniature tuxedo.

As an aside seeing a picture of John in that tuxedo caused me to cry. I had never realized that my son looked like me, but the resemblance in his face to mine was remarkable, and amazingly enough, just like me. That has to be a run-on sentence, anyway.

Bob and Eloise were very happy. They had a nice house in Spring Hill. They had a life together, and it was great for them. Bob, without missing a beat, was John's Grandfather. This was new for Bob, our family was dynamic interwoven, and blended. He never missed a beat. When Laura and I got divorced he chose well, and kept his own counsel.

Our relationship was decidedly more distant when I was no longer married to his stepdaughter. No worries, he was still a good guy and I was kind of an asshole anyway. He treated my son amazingly well. At the end of the day that was all that was important.

Bob shuffled off our mortal coil, and now my son gets the life experience of losing a grandfather. Well, that sucks, but it is part of being a young man, growing up, living right.

I just wanted to say thank you Bob. You were an awesome grandfather. You were a great husband. You were a good man.

Isn't that all we can ever wish for.

Good rest sir, and Peace.

The fat Buddha and the skinny Buddha...

(c) 2011 by Ross Winn >>DRAFT TEXT<<

One of my favorite stories about Lord Buddha is a story about the fat Buddha and the skinny Buddha. I always wondered, why there were two sizes of Buddha's? Was it an age thing, or a cultural thing? Was it about something else? I was in a coffee shop one afternoon and two robed monks came in with their heads freshly shaven. They were friendly looking guys, one wasn't Asian though. Maybe that was why I approached them. We are all born without an prejudice or even awareness of race, but a lifetime of cultural conditioning may have made a difference. I don't know.

Seeing robed monks in Florida is a fairly rare occurrence, at least around here. I had been thinking on some ideas that day. My thoughts often wander towards Buddha, and that question had been on my mind a few hours before I saw them. Taking this as a sign of synchronicity I walked to where they were sitting and asked if I might join them. I think they were taken aback some. Cultural conditioning again. Living here in Florida among the heat and humidity and the hate and stupidity has probably made them somewhat wary. I understood it, but I thought my physical self might put them at ease. After all, I do look a bit like a fat Buddha.

I explained to them a bit about Buddha following me, and that after several years of him trying to get my attention I was trying to follow him. Further, I explained I was new to this and there were huge holes in my knowledge. That I was trying to learn, and I had a question. They were very nice and they offered to answer any questions that they could. So I asked, "why is there a thin Buddha and a fat Buddha? Is it an age thing, or a cultural thing? It doesn't make much sense to me because I have seen so many images of him both ways and I don't know why."

The younger monk, the white kid, got this big grin and chuckled. The other monk looked and him and gestured for him to continue. I didn't know it at the time but the younger monk had once been pretty heavy-set himself. Evidently this was one of his favorite stories, and he loved to tell it. I sipped my coffee and he seemed to pull up his sleeves somehow mentally, and then he seemed to relax into himself as he told me the story.

"Buddha was a prince as you know. Because of this he was expected to do and be certain things. He was expected to be handsome, and he was. He was expected to dress well, and he did. He was expected to eat well, but not be a glutton. He was to be a man in all of the ways that his people felt was important, even though his father the king did not grant him leave to go outside the palace walls. Siddhartha did all of those things and he was liked and respected by his people even though he was distant.

As we know Lord Buddha did eventually leave the palace. He witnesses the plight of his people, and through his understanding of this problem he begins on his journey to enlightenment. We also know he succeeds and sitting under the fig tree he attains enlightenment. He follows the middle way and spends the remainder his life teaching after founding the monastic order. This is a common story, and some version of it is known to all Buddhists, just as you know the story, isn't that correct?" I nodded, and then the monk took another breath and continued.

"It is said that Prince Siddartha was not an ugly man. He was attractive, but not remarkably so. He was physically fit, but not remarkably so. The one thing that Lord Buddha was above all else, was that he was enlightened. Lord Buddha was perfectly enlightened. The word you see in English quite a bit is sublime. That word is pretty, but it really doesn't convey what Siddhartha had become.

When Lord Buddha walked into a place there would be men and women in almost every crowd. Of course both would gravitate toward him, but many women became so enchanted. These women, and maybe even some men, would throw themselves at Lord Buddha. They might only beg that he touch them on the hand, but some were so entranced that they would throw off their clothes and appear mad with lust. Lord Buddha was so sublime that at some times he did not even realize that he was causing these reactions. Those who are truly enlightened are more focused; and so while this may seem odd to you or I, we are not so enlightened."

I was smiling now as well, the monk's story was told so well that I was enjoying just that moment. The cadence of his voice and the little flecks of color in his voice were entertaining.

"One of the monastics some years later asked Lord Buddha to let himself go. To eat what he wished and not walk so much, so that he might become fat. You see that way, the monastic explained, these women will not dishonor themselves because you will not be so attracttive.

It was a good plan on the face of it, and Lord Buddha let himself go. Of course had Lord Buddha taken time from his teachings to meditate on this he would have realized immediately the folly of it. Lord Buddha became fatter and eventually he became that which you see as the fat Buddha. Yet this did not matter, because no matter what Lord Buddha might look like he was still Lord Buddha. Women still took off their clothes and would throw themselves at Lord Buddha because he was still so sublime.

It is said that Lord Buddha eventually returned to that middle path when eating and regained his normal size, but the problem with unenlightened women was never solved."

We sat quietly for a moment, as I sipped my coffee and the storyteller drank his water while the other monk chewed his salad. They were respectful of my silence as I thought about that. I started to speak slowly, because I was still figuring it out as I went. "So what you are saying is that even Lord Buddha had problems with women?"

The older, asian monk looked at me and answered, "No, what he is saying is that to Lord Buddha that wasn't a concern", his face parted in a toothy smile, "but we are not that enlightened." The three of us laughed together as I finally got the joke.

Loss

Not a day goes by that I have not felt the loss of her. 

She is pretty but not perfect. 

Smart, but still inexperienced. 

Strange, but right for me in some ways. 

I always thought that this would stop eventually. 

That after all I've been through that I'd be numb.

Wrong again.