bigger, stronger…

I had a cousin who I first recall being a lot bigger than me. Given that I was probably under 4 when this vague (possibly false) memory occurred it’s understandable… and he was at least 6 years older than me. His iris looked like they were mixed with lava. They were the same style as his father.

As I got older, his father told me his opinions about my limitations very bluntly. I actually appreciated the directness of it given the family penchant for gloss. I actually dug the old cat and his son was a marker that I thought I’d never reach. I mean, Tracy was always bigger than me. By the time we had reached adulthood he still had 1/2 to 1″ above me. He was more handsome than me though I don’t know what he did with it throughout his youth given our age disparity.

He had an affability that allowed him to mix within a variety of social strata and a sensitivity that seemed to make him a bit vulnerable to them. I only surmise this from way in the cheap seats. I had run into my cousin on a job late Summer. My cousin hadn’t seen my son since the boy was too young to remember him so I had looked forward to the reintroduction. Plus my boy likes meeting my male relatives because he gets to feel like he can hang with the OGs. A hit & run driver ended that possibility a few days before Xmas.

I used to use Tracy as a marker, someone to look up towards and I had planned on telling him this next we spoke because I don’t think he knew. I knew it, though, so that’s just going to have to be enough.

don't make me get angry

don’t make me get angry

Knees

I got suckered into playing basketball a couple of weeks ago. I had retired almost 2 years ago – farewell tour and all. Week one, I couldn’t walk more than 3 millimeters an hour for 2 days afterwards. Doing some circuit training loosened me up a little. A week later, I played with only mild discomfort and afterwards though there is still a little swelling. I had intended on bike riding to strengthen the knees but that option was lost to me.wpid-20111014_134504.jpg

My son scolds me for playing basketball. He said something equivalent to my wheelchair better have good batteries because he’s not pushing. Mouthy little mofo! He gives me some good advice but it gave me an opportunity to explain building, pain suppression, and possession. I can’t help but watch a live bouncing basketball. It’s obscene. My vertical leap is almost negative now but I have to play. I can see angles and things developing that also translates when I’m in a different space.

Also, there is no sophistry. Most of my art skills have been abused by the advertising/entertainment industry. As a kid it was all about it feeling good: the intrinsic reward. That value has to be paramount or else I might as well do something far more mundane for money.