update

Not terribly much going on. Went up to Oklahoma again this past Saturday and my new brother and I, along with his daughter and my son, went to see a Beatles tribute band. Turns out we both like the Beatles quite a bit...go figure.:) I'm busily going full force into some major life changes. I won't go into much detail here, but I'll give a couple of hints: tired of carrying extra weight and tired of having a boss.

 So, there we go. I've put in my 3 month notice where I am currently employed and will figure something out. All I know is that this life is short, and I'm not wasting amymore time in being afraid of taking a risk or two. i suppose with a certain amount of years on this earth, one of two things happens (with respect to the somewhat main point of this entry): you either become more afraid or less afraid. i'm becoming less. At this point I turn it over to someone more eloquent than I, Donald Hall:

AFFIRMATION

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the shore,
and a friend from school drops
cold on a rocky strand.
If a new love carries us
past middle age, our wife will die
at her strongest and most beautiful.
New women come and go. All go.
The pretty lover who announces
that she is temporary
is temporary. The bold woman,
middle-aged against our old age,
sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand.
Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years.
Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything.

 

"it is fitting and delicious to lose everything."

 

If we could all find the peace that comes with accepting that realization, the world would be not only a better place, it would be intoxicatingly fabulous.

  

it's fall again

every season is my favorite season. fall being no exception.

 last night i watched the edge of a cool front, with its solid gray clouds, slowly move over. it's a beautiful sight. i think back to all the falls i have experienced in my past: early snows in colorado -- early *blizzards* in wisconsin -- foliage and apples in ohio -- but i'm a texan at heart, and after 90+ september days, it's a welcome relief when the heat and humidity finally breaks. there won't be a lot of red and yellow leaves, but there is an appreciation of the changing season nonetheless.

it's autumn, it's octoberfest, it's harvest time, it's a harvest moon, bock beer, early sunsets, late sunrises. it's dew turning to frost, cool mornings and comfortable evenings. and the knowledge that spring is far, far out on the horizon...it hasn't even crested the hill yet. 

just sitting here in a hotel in Austin

Started a new job...no big deal...

homesick for Anadarko.

What an amazing time.

 Is this close to being a hiku?

no. 

My Letter to Ruby

Dear Ruby,

I have begun this letter countless times in my head, and more than a few times on paper. I keep telling myself to not over think…to simply write…but that, as it is with many things, is easier said than done.

I am Rick. I was born on November 30th, 1970, at Deaconess in Oklahoma City. I have had a good life. It has, of course, been a mixture of the extraordinary and the mundane. I have seen friends come and go. I have experienced the highs of love and the occasional pangs of heartache. I have traveled the world and lived in many different places. I have watched my grandparents age and leave. I was the class clown in high school and a thumb in the eye of authority in college (at least in my own mind). I married an incredible person, Sara, whom I met while performing in a play (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof). She has been a steady rock and partner for me over the years. I have witnessed the births of my son and my daughter, Luke and Hannah, to whom I am indelibly bonded. I have performed in Carnival in France, and on stage in orchestras. I have been a teacher (two years of high school English), a tree trimmer, a musician, a butcher, a published poet, a work site supervisor for people with mental disorders, and now, a software designer. I have carved my initials into the Eiffel tower and stood barefoot on the Taj Mahal. I now live in Keller, Texas with a house full of dogs and cats and the kids’ toys, my books and music and Sara’s countless projects. Throughout all of these experiences, I have known that I was adopted.

Being adopted as been a casual fact of mine for almost as long as I can remember. When I was five years old, my family moved to a neighborhood outside of Denver, Colorado. As it so happened, four other children in this small neighborhood were adopted. One evening, over dinner, I simply asked if I too were adopted. The answer: yes. And that was it, no big deal, heck, half the neighborhood was adopted.

Of course, being adopted does bring about the obvious questions: Who are my natural parents? Why was I adopted? Where are they now? Do they still think of me? As I got older, in addition to the random contemplations on being adopted, I would think about you on my birthday and wonder if you remembered that day…if we could possibly be thinking of each other at the same moment.  

I hope that your life has been good as well. I hope that you have accomplished some of your dreams and made peace with any that have not come to pass. I read in the brief bio that was included with my adoption records that you played the clarinet. I hope you still enjoy music. I think about how difficult a decision adoption must have been for you to make, and I am humbled by your courage.

I would like to know you, to sit and chat and exchange questions and answers, ideas and thoughts. I hope you feel the same, though I will understand if the circumstances of life prevent you from being able to reunite. My hopes and good wishes for you remain the same regardless. Thank you for giving me a start.

Love,



Rick

Greatest Summer of My Life Timeline

I'm posting a simple timeline so that I can write about it later:

1. Contacted Deconess week of July 4th...which is, coincidentally, my Birth Mother's Birthday.
2. Sent the check to initiate the intermediary services same week
   
3. July 9 - Emailed a letter to Ruby which was part of the requirements of the intermediary service.
4. July 12 - Emailed my contact at Deaconess to see if she'd heard anything from Ruby.
5. July 13 - Same thing.
6. July 14 - Heard from Debbie that contact had been made and that Ruby wanted to reunite.
7. July 14 - Spoke with Ruby for the first time in my life.
8. July 27 - Reunited with Mama Ruby and with my Sister Kendra and my nephew Adam.
   
9. July 29 - Talked to my sister Cindy for the first time.
10. August 8th - Spent the day with all three of my siblings: Greg, Cindy, and Kendra
11. August 10-12th - Spent the weekend at my Mama's house. Met all of the family including cousins, nieces and nephews.
12. August 24-26th - Brought my family up to meet everyone.