Chasing the sunset

How many times do you wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where your at?  Of course since these are my words most of you would assume that alcohol found its way into my bloodstream.  While the river may flow with some Cabernet Sauvignon, these days its probably a monster Syrah.  With that established, I think its time to establish that waking up in the middle of the night is the norm for me.  

At one point in my life this usually meant waking up in a new town, a new hotel, an old room, sometimes I could see the light from the street lamp coming through the windows and at times the room was dark enough to hide from the world.  These days I don’t care to hide.  I don’t care to walk the streets with a crutch, the terms of my days are based on the scars of the heart.  For some reason they just aren’t negotiable.

A couple of nights ago stayed up watching the web-cast fiasco in Austin about the abortion bill.  While my political stance for the most part is neutral, this one goosed me to a point of a radiation burst from the sun.  Why?  Was the first question, why is this even a vote?  Who?  This was the second question, who do these people think they are to challenge a law that is of the land?  Maybe I am naive, but what I am not is tired of the sunrise.  

My two cents, first an open comment to who this applies, “Sorry I don’t remember inviting you into my house.  Certainly don’t remember inviting you into the bedroom.”  Second, “If you cheat, doctor, steal, you go to jail!  So why are the parties that doctored a PUBLIC record not going to jail?”  Maybe if I had a wood nickel this would mean something.  Quick some one give me three more pennies so I can make change.

Part Deux of web-casting.  Lost a dear friend and watching friends reminisce about yesterday evoked tears of joy and sorrow.  A great glass of wine to toast a life.  A moment to remind the soul of screaming at the TV because God only knows the ‘retarded growth’ of the Cowboys on that day was just a small wonder in this life.  Time did fade away but Mr. Mark Garza your memory will always shine like a beacon that will die. 

Had a conversation where my silence was required.  Great job because with the twist and turns of fate you are one.  One who can make this soul realize that life is grander than the picture.  Not knowing whats on the other side of a dark corridor can scare you straight.  Chasing the sun from sun up to sun down might leave you breathless.  It will also teach you to open your heart and fly.

A simple phone call to hear your voice.  Someone sitting having a glass of wine and you realize the absence.  Can you scream?  Can you scream in absentia?  Why scream when you can stare?  The sunset will always remind you that you have seen it before.  “Don’t be afraid of your sunset!”  I won’t.

Today my heart hurts.  Today I don’t think I can reach my sunset.  But I can scream at my sunrise.  Today I hope the rain drops come.  Its easier to hide the tears.  In the middle of the night when I wake up, I don’t have to search my heart because you found me. 

Of course I can always close the blinds.  Nah.  To easy, would rather sit and take some time off from that emotion and watch the sunset.  When the dust settles and the river water meets the ocean remember that the mind is only expensive if you let it get away from you.  So sit back hold my hand and live!

For the record, the only great thing this week was, meanwhile back at the farm, our Supreme Court actually got something right for the first time.  Power to the people!  Once in a while when you look over the horizon you do get to see the sunset.  When your heart drives up to a movie theater and you see someone walking and you want to scream to the world, “Yes!  She is with me!”  or “Yes!  He is with me!”  you can, everyday you can....

Written with a heavy heart and with the hope of life.  

Quien eres tu?

A long time ago I showed up at my grandparents house full of angst, pissed off at the world.  Hated the month of February like a person on the edge needs a cyanide pill.  At the time in less than two years I had lost my best friend to suicide and grandfather and cousin.  Life was just that, a moment, an hour, a minute, a second, it was just there.  The emotions of the day were bottled up inside to a point of anger and hatred.  

I walked in to the kitchen like I always had and there like Walter Matthau was my grandfather sitting in his chair that to this very day I refuse to sit in.  It has an owner.  My grandmother cooking him something and the charming and loving way in which they got along.  

She looked at me and immediately stated that obvious that I had lost quite a bit of weight and proceeded to make more food.  For his part my grandfather saw through me.  He read the anger in my eyes.  Here was a man that I cherished and idolized.  He was not my grandfather by blood, no matter a fact he was my step grandfather that was, is, will always be my grandfather.

His question was to the point.  “Que molesta tienes?”  It was simple, my anger of losing, my anger of not having the answer for my questions.  “When I die and go to heaven God and I need to have a serious conversation.  He has a lot of answers he needs to give me.  I have questions that need answers.”  The look on his face I will never forget.  Disgust!  Disbelief!  Without him saying it but his eyes burned a hole in my soul that day.

“Quien piensas que eres.  A Dios no se le pregunta cosas!  Eres una cinverguensa!”  He stood up and walked towards me and the only time that he ever sat in another chair happened at that moment.  He sat next to me, placed his hand on my leg and what he said next weights heavy inside of me.  He was and is MY Grandfather.

Since then my days have been a roller coaster of Life!   To fight for what is right for friends for strangers is imbedded inside of me.  Once I sat on a kitchen stool and listened to people whom I called friends to completely and recklessly call someone the most racist comments one could think.  No, I didn’t speak up.  I didn’t defend him.  I walked away with a candle of thought knowing the failure inside of me.

These changes, the plague that gestated inside of me boiled.  Memories of that moment etched in a soul that could not walk away from itself.  Yes at times I want to scream at the top of my lungs.  I want to be alone when this happens, that conversation for two with an empty cup of tea lingers.  As long as I don’t start answering my own questions my feeling is that crazy has not overcome me.  

A dear friend of mine passed last week.  Mark Garza was, is, will always be a man who walks a path of righteousness that no one will ever.  He much like my grandfather found life on his terms.  Losing a friend at such a young age is no different than losing  Baby Ruben before he could ever understand life.  I will hold that candle for them, I will let the candle wax burn my fingers, I will let it breath life.  

Mark sent me a message where he read something I wrote and explained to me that righteous was something that was inside of me.  That he was very proud of my writing.  The last time I saw him in New York was for lunch, during it he went further to tell me how proud of me he was.  I am heart broken with his passing.  

Then the words of another friend who lost his father ache inside of me.  And all I know how to say is that I am here for him.  I don’t have words that will make things better.  I don’t have the happy pill or the happy wine that will ease the pain.  

“El dia que tu sigas, la vida sigue.  Esperando razon, esperando porque, Mijo, no lo esperes.  Vive con el sueno de la sonrisa.  Vive porque todavia no sigues tu.  Llora si te duele el corazon.  Dios, el es el que cuida tu corazon cuando piensas que ya no puedes.”  

To my friends who have lost love ones.  My grandfather was a great man.  A man amongst kings.  A man who was righteous without ever realizing it.  When the day comes that God decides its my time, I won’t ask questions, instead I will search for this man who made the feelings inside of me live.  

For my Grandfather Manuel Benavidez who loved his family more than words can ever describe.  Gracias Abuelo.

Ricky

simply put...

Mark Antony new what he was doing.  Richard Burton in his dying quest new what he was doing.  Lancelot new that he was doomed.  Napoleon was way out of his league with Josephine.  We all know that Pierre no matter how intelligent and scholarly he was Marie Curie was just that much more outstanding.  Everyone always remembers the first kiss but honestly how many of you remember that second kiss?  That girl who just rocked your socks who made your hands sweaty.  Who made your heart skip a beat.  The one who didn’t steal your breath away but rather the one that held it for you while you realized that you were fucked.

Okay so maybe this is written from a guys point of view but trust me when I tell you it is written more from observation than anything else.  Take for instance tonight, in the great city of Bordeaux at midnight, a nameless woman walked in with a man whose name is Akin.  Nice guy, friendly, oblivious to the world.  Eyes only for his Cleopatra.  Within them you could sense fear, loss, hate, horror.  Is that love? I found myself asking that question.

Here was a guy who could very easily wipe the floor with most of the people that looked at him wrong much less his Cleopatra.  What was bothering me?  Maybe that this was not a carefree woman.  This was a woman, not happy.  A woman who thought she was better than my new friend Akin.  She paraded around like Elizabeth trying to reach the inner rage of a man content in love.  Why?  For what reason would someone break a glass half full?

Life is ideal, while my heart is full it is blistered with reason.  Yet, here in this city of life, this city of love, in life the romance of the day is not built on the scars of the heart.  Instead is is built on the ideal belief that one half does not make a whole.  

“A man should say to his soul every morning God has given thee twenty four treasures.  Take heed lest thou lose anyone of them for thou will not be able to endure the regret that will follow such loss.”  James Dean

So maybe in the cold of the night while two people cuddle in a room the romance doesn’t have to come by reason.  It should not take the warmth of a soul to teach us what is grand.  What is beautiful.  Love can be etched by the simplicity of a child riding his bicycle while his Grandfather watches protectively.  It can be desired through a picture of time.  Not a perfect picture because Prince once said, “The beautiful ones always break the picture.”  

Have been in Europe for over a week now and realize much.  Michigan will never win a National Title while I am out of the Country.  Sorry guys, they are O for 2 now.  However a Father hugging his son has no limits of time.  What my heart has learned is there is a beauty that requires a heart to be stolen.  A river will alway bleed to an ocean of thought but the thought will never find a river of tears.  Stolen moments have a reason.

As this glorious night comes to a close, this town whose lights create the shadow of adoration, remember to steal the heart, steal the moments, mark the moments.  Sure take a picture but memory is served best.  Memory will tell you those who stole your heart and what you learned from them.  It will also tell you that when that little girl tells you, “Daddy when are you coming home?”  Your heart breaks open with reason.

I wonder why life’s love stories have to be tragic?  Rain of Gold was a reason for a child to remember his fathers last breath.  It was his heart breaking reading the words of a great love story.  We live on the autonomy of time and that a great love story doesn’t exist.  It does be witness to it!  Find your treasures, fill your cup of coffee, read the note of love.  Don’t sweat the small stuff, dance as if no one’s watching, Love as if its all you know, and dream as if you’ll live forever, Live as if you’ll die today.  Prophetic words by James Dean but he had a point.  

Love won’t tell you.  Your heart won’t either.  It won’t make the world go round.  Your mind will keep you sane but always allow your self to believe.  

Sometimes the rivers do flow and you don’t have to be blind to see...inspired by the words of my daughters Sophia and Sicilia, “I love you Daddy...Me too Daddy” 

Not ready to exit just yet...

Walking down the corridor of thought realized that time has always been on my side.  Time sometimes is all we need, to find a reason.  “I have been searching the edge of sanity to find myself.”  No such luck.  Sanity begins in the reflection of the mirror, there is nothing wrong with living.  Life is meant to have scratches, bruises, maybe a little bit of blood, it is meant to have scars.  What we learn from them truly defines who we are.

I can’t recall the last time a pillow looked so inviting.  It was there just screaming my name, it was an invitation to dreaming.  The TV blaring, my dreams were running towards me.  Music serenading my indulgence while the horizon changed  from my dreams to morning coffee of thoughts.

I wanted to fantasize about tomorrow!  Tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough.  The sands of the hour glass showing the seconds of time, I can see the other side, just not ready to exit yet.  I know where my heart is...

Suddenly the alarm is whaling, screaming, and my thoughts come rushing to me.  People are talking around me and it seems they are oblivious.  My head is spinning and desperately search the room wondering where I am.  Coffee where are you?

There in the corner of the room sitting idle is a shadow of yesterday trying to escape the demons that hold us captured.  We argue with ourselves as to why?  Its amazing that people lecture about when you get to the gates of St. Peters you will know about your soul.  While its a laughable comment, seriously, what’d you do?  Die and come back to tell us there are these pearly gates waiting for my soul?  

Not at all if my soul could escape from me, it would have bought a ticket to ride a long time ago.  Instead of waiting for some magical pearly gates make peace with yourself.  Find a reason to let your pride runaway from you and stare at the reflection in the mirror, what do you see?  

A man, confounded to a world that has taught him to survive.  To care for the wounds, to understand the bruises, to live through the scratches, and to walk through this ordinary world with a lit bit of blood finding a reason to exist in his own skin.  We learn to survive not because of fight but because of reason.

So why not pack your bags?  Why not catch a ride to the end of your mind?  Life, it ticks away, second by second, and all we can do is see it for what it is.  Meanwhile the world decides to psycho analyze the moment, I will be at the edge of insanity with a cup of coffee, a cigar, a good book understanding that life has not left my soul yet.  

I spent the last year trying to understand people.  Trying to understand what makes people act holy.  Bible thumping is overrated if you do not believe in it.  Why should I punish my heart for believing?  I won’t say goodbye to those who seem fit to be self righteous, smile at them and scream without raising your voice.  Life is truly funny.  

If the price of my smile was living; then this time my friends my world will be one.  Sure the sands of the hour glass continues pebble by pebble, but let me tell you so does my soul....one second at a time.   

I learned that this world is bigger than me...

Some days life rolls on and on others it sort of speeds by like a bullet to the head.  Who would have ever thought that almost a year ago a Human Resource Director would leave a file on a table for everyone to read?  A bullet to the gut and then you realize the value of a man.  

The only one who stands here with me is King Lear and he by all means has no reason other than to give.  He gave his heart, his soul, his life, for what?  The King of Fools he picked up his soul and became a melody to time and his own shadow.  

Every day we wake up with the hopes that today is the day life changes.  Sometimes we wait all our lives to discover how we have failed.  No one to blame but the looking glass.  “I have no one to blame but myself!”  Not enough fingers and toes for the amount of times this has been repeated by the truth of life.  Then that day arrives, the one, the one which starts with the sound of an alarm.  Good morning!

Found myself having dinner with my son, he is finding a reason to stand tall in this life, smiles with eyes full of hope.  Being Dad has been the hardest part of my life and being one without living in the footsteps of another has changed the way I breath and walk.  Never to live without regret, standing tall with the wrong and the good of my life allows me to stitch my scars together to be one.

Today the morning started off with my insanity to yesterday.  She is gracious, loving, and hopeful in finding her way through life.  One can only applaud such intricate strength.  A mother lives to feed her child the bosom of life, to protect them from the evils that were placed upon her journey.  It is called being a mother!  

A father is to define strength, to protect the children by teaching them to not fear life.  My father taught me to stay awake.  To live to work.  And live to work my life went, my father did not fail me.  He taught me resilience, he gave me reason.  While most of my life I argued that it was my mother who taught me empathy, all along it was my father.  My mother taught me how to extend my hand.  

So what was my valuable lesson, “this world is bigger than me...”  there are people who need that extra hand to live.  I am able to breath and find my own melody in this world.  While my life now is about working to live, there is no wrong or shame in living.  To do so with the infectious love of your friends and family is what this life is above all the most priceless journey of all.

I like a nice cup of coffee and a good cigar in the morning.  Its who I have become.  The feeling of Jazz in my life is to forget that a soul put a value on what my existence was.  Last night I had what one would hope to be my final dream of that file.  In my dream the file read as such, “100 pennies is still a Dollar, however 1 penny does not buy me my sense of life.  Neither a nickel, dime, or quarter, for my life is judged in the words to live by, “Love you Dad!”

While my scatter brain often works in the most dysfunctional ways, these words are for my son Andrew.  Your worth is within your heart.  Never let anyone put a value on who you are or where you came from.  Love is all around you.  Find it in your own heart.  Find it in your family.  Find it in your friends.  But more importantly always know that I will forever love you for being Andrew.  

Mr. Alberico.

You take my breath away

A pretty bad writers block can make you go hmmm?  Even though the silence in this head has been not!  The letters and words just never seemed to have a flow.  Never one for catchy phrases or outward mobility to my thoughts, the words usually find form in my heart.  Lately the heart has been an inner voice threatening to burst from its seams.

I finally get to sit in my little terrace at Alberico Fine Wine and enjoy a cup of superman, a cigar, and Enrique Iglesias serenading the hustle and bustle of 10th and 495.  Cars running on empty, horns honking the ears off the sunrise.  The view from this private room, all mine.  

What makes today any different than yesterday?  A day older.  A day wiser.  Nah!  Today you take my breath away.  The music blends in with morning rays, and the serenity is beyond a description from this mind.  

My sense of pride with life has swelled to the point that blisters fill the heart with a wanton desire for the simple things.  Never will I long for your attention for the fight in me is to keep you sane.  When your heart aches it will be I who will reach to the sky and set straight the sun and the moon in there bitter argument for your attention.  

Today however, it is the moment of truth.  A split second from insanity, a minute of time, an hour of life, a day in my thoughts.  I love that which is the breath that escapes.  The mirror which makes me accountable.  So what does this all mean?  

In short, when I stare at you, memories wash over me much like the levy breaking.  From the time that those first words escaped my lips, to the moment after I walked off the baseball field, to the day that you stood next to me as the Doctor explained to you about my chances for another tomorrow.  The look on your face explained a love that only a Father could ever understand.

When you drove up and stood in your own quiet thoughts, it was the smile in my face of a son whose only wish was that of seeing yours.  Yes, my shinning moment.  Yes, the look of a man with callous hands from a hard days life, the weathered face of time, the soul of his father inside us both.  

“You can shave!  A haircut would also help!”  And just like that my cavities, the wrinkle of my time spread across my face.  Staring at this dream together it is in the here and now that life has come full circle, where I now understand why.

To you my father, Jose Aberico Ramos, thank you.

Ricardo “Ricky” Ramos