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.