A Change in Perspective Leads to a Change in Objective

1. The Queen of Hearts was misunderstood; not a villain like everyone supposes,
2. Because I'd be mad too if I saw that blonde bitch painting all my roses.
   
3. Maybe beheading seems extreme. Maybe the threats were empty.
4. Maybe her HMO wouldn't cover the cost of anger management therapy.
   
5. Maybe that little girl cheated at that one-on-one game of croquet.
6. Maybe she was just a spoiled brat who was used to getting her way.
   
7. Maybe she told her story with such a biased glee
8. That people couldn't help but take her side and hate the queen.
   
9. Maybe there's another side of this that none of us will know.
10. Cause it's hard being the Queen of Hearts when cheaters threaten your throne.
    
11. Maybe I'm the royalty, you're the blonde and this a dream.
12. Maybe there's another angle to me that you refuse to see.
    
13. I know you think I'm the bad guy; that doesn't mean I never cared.
14. Maybe I knew it wouldn't work and I'd rather my heart was spared.
    
15. Maybe I'm the villain and I justified it in my head,
16. But white roses are my favorite and I was tired of you painting them red.

The Story Where I Was Late to That Funeral

1. I think the purpose of life is for us to pre-sell tickets to our own funeral. Because nothing indicates what a great life you led more than a packed church, collectively mourning your passing. But I don't want to lower ticket prices just to fill seats.
2. This was the thought running through my head at my great-uncle's burial. Not because he had a big turnout. Quite the opposite.
3. The number of people standing on that wet grass was moderate, but the love they felt for this man was immense. And I decided that I wanted the same thing. Quality not quantity.
4. Uncle Bruce was an amazing man, and I loved him very much for that. It's rare for someone to be as close to their extended family as mine is. But I loved him as if he were much closer to me in my bloodline than he actually was.
5. My mom's mother, who I call Nana, came from a large family of 5 sisters and one brother. All the sisters married great men, who became intricate parts of our family.
6. I remember growing up and hearing stories when the sisters were younger and thinking how odd it sounded for the uncles to not be a part of them. In my mind, they had just always been there.
7. Uncle Bruce married the eldest of the Reese Sisters, Annie Gem...who I grew up referring to as Aunt Ann.
8. Well, to be fair, for about the first 10 years I was alive, I truly thought her actual name was Ann-Ann. I was shocked to find out that "Aunt" was a part of this moniker. Mainly because great aunts and uncles are usually so far removed from the lives of their great-nephews with the rare exceptions of family reunions or maybe a holiday here and there. I can't recall any of my friends telling stories about their great-aunta and uncles.
9. I spent the majority of my childhood sleeping over every Friday night with Aunt Ann and Uncle Bruce, and then every Saturday with Nana and my grandfather, Biggie.
10. (Actually, we called him Big Dad. His nickname derived from my sister's inabbility to comprehend two-word-names.)
11. It wasn't until my adulthood that I realized how special this situation was. I was never close with my biological father's parents. There was a lot of alcoholism on his side of the family, and my mother never felt comfortable with her children being exposed to that.
12. So Aunt Ann and Uncle Bruce truly became my second set of grandparents. I'd like to think that they felt this way about me as well. Their daughter Debbie didn't have her first child, Stewart, until a few years after I was born. So for a little while, I was the "collective grand-baby" of the family. I had no problem with this, since I was a hog for attention. I laid the show on thick for the family. I tried to be as entertaining as possible.
13. In the south, women played cards and gabbed about family, friends, politics or anything that struck up a good card-playing conversation. Most often, the Reese Sisters would play a game called Canasta, which seems to have been lost somewhere in the past 2 generations.
14. But I distinctly remember the women playing cards, and laughing and talking, and I wanted to be a part of this conversation. I climbed up in a chair at the table and pretended to be a part of this coffee-klatch. (I even think Aunt Ann handed me a couple of joker cards to hold onto so I could feel like I was "in the game.")
15. Not only was I determined to be involved in the card game, but in the conversation too.
16. It's weird how we remember the oddest details from our childhood. But I remember jumping into the conversation and telling a story trying to be as funny as everyone else.
17. I stopped.
18. I had no punch line. No hook.
19. The ladies all looked at me waiting patiently and adoringly. And I pulled from the only knowledge a 5 year old has, and made a "poop joke". I laughed hysterically at myself, and the women chuckled politely.
20. If you've read my stories, you'll notice that my bag of tricks never did get too full, because I rely on the "poop jokes" too much when I have nothing funny to say. Old habits die hard.
21. My mom called me and told me that Uncle Bruce had died Sunday morning. He had been in the hospital on life support and could not breathe on his own.
22. I could not even fathom this.
23. The Uncle Bruce that I knew was a spitfire. He had served in the military. He had the most colorful vocabulary of any man I had ever known as a child.
24. He was even strong enough to grab me by my ankle and flip me upside down once when I had choked on a hamburger. This man had saved my life, in a sense. And now, no one could save his.
25. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it to the funeral. It was in Houston on a Tuesday morning, and I lived in Dallas, 4 hours away, with a tight work schedule. I was waiting until the last minute to call my mom because of the fear of that disappointed silence preceding the calculated "Well, that's okay," that was sure to follow.
26. My assistant manager was confident that she could take care of things while I was gone and was encouraging me to spend some time with my family instead of using work as a distraction. So, we made some schedule changes and I was able to go.
27. The catch to all of this, was that I still had to work until midnight on Monday night, but I had to leave by 5am to make the trek to Houston in time. I was so fearful of the possibility of oversleeping and missing the funeral, that I decided to stay up all night and just drive on no sleep.
28. I'm not sure why this seemed like the more logical, adult decision, but at 1am, it made sense to me.
29. The drive was long and tedious, but early enough to be free from cluttered freeways.
30. The drive went smoothly until I actually got into town. Services were to be held at a church in the small town of Katy, TX. I spent part of my childhood in Katy, and was even baptized in the church to which I was traveling.
31. It was ironic to me to attend a memorial for someone's passing in the same location that I had been "reborn."
32. My step-dad, Neil, would tell me right now that I used the word "ironic" improperly.
33. When I was 11, my mom married Neil, who is a blessedly humorous guy, and at that point had never had any children of his own. So, he walked into marriage and fatherhood simultaneously; an admirable and foolish situation for any adult male.
34. But I'm glad he did it.
35. Soon after the vows were spoken, we moved as a family to Katy, where Neil had been promoted in his company. The downside was being farther away from Nana and Biggie. The silver lining was that Aunt Ann and Uncle Bruce had moved to that same area a few years before, and I was overjoyed at the chance to spend more time with them.
36. And I did. My sister and I would spend time at their house, attend family holidays, and even sleep over. I was a teenager, and these were the times when I was less of a cute, entertaining child.
37. I would rather have listened to my Walkman than hold joker cards at a dining table.
38. Honestly, during that time I should've spent more time around Aunt Ann than Uncle Bruce. And I realized that during the drive to his memorial.
39. I thought about all that time and how childish it was that I had wasted it. These were times that I could have created a stronger bond as well as memories that would be more valuable and vivid than the ones of my toddler years.
40. And I did not only deny myself these opprtunities, but I denied Uncle Bruce the same. I'm not sure I can forgive myself for that. But at least I was going to get my chance to say goodbye. And apologize to him for the lack of attention I gave him, after he had given me so much attention when I was a child.
41. I arrived inside Katy city limits, and drove down Katy Hockley Street towards the church. I was almost there, and barely had 2 minutes to spare until the services began. I was going to make it.
42. It's at this point I should note that there are TWO streets called "Katy Hockley," and they run parallel to one another.
43. One took you to the church.
44. The other took me to wherever it was that I ended up.
45. I drove around and circled back, and tried the other Katy Hockley, but got nervous, so I started over and retraced my steps.
46. And as I did this, my emotions became a jumbled mess, a message written in code, and it was going to crack me before I could crack it.
47. I pulled up into the church parking lot and looked at the clock.
48. 10:28
49. After everything this man had done for me, I couldn't even get there on time to say good-bye.
50. I walked in and approached the door to enter the sanctuary. But they were rolling the casket, draped in an American Flag, up the aisle towards the exit where I was standing. I stepped back to the outskirts of the foyer, and let the processional continue without interruption from me.
51. And I noticed that the family were the first to follow the casket. I can still, to this day, see the image of my Aunt Ann, being held up by her sisters, as she tries to walk, but can barely raise her head, They are simultaneously keeping her off the ground and guiding her forward.
52. I was moved.
53. That's the true function of this unconditional love that family has for one another; to keep us up and guide us forward.
54. Other family members began to exit the auditorium as well, and they started to notice me. It was so nice to see them, but at the same time, completely humiliating to be so obviously tardy.
55. One by one they walked over and hugged me. After Nana hugged me, she urged me to go hug my Aunt Ann. I looked over, and saw this quivering, broken woman who had just lost the man she'd been married to for longer than I've been alive, and I did not feel like this was the time for me to say hello. But Nana insisted, so I did.
56. I hugged her. And I was overcome by torrential emotions, and desperately fighting for the right words to say. But all I could say was
57. "I'm so sorry."
58. After a moment, my Aunt Ann looked at me and said,
59. "But Jeremy, did you see him? Oh, you didn't! Jeremy, you didn't get to see him!"
60. I felt my heart fall backwards into my chest and rattle my spine. I had upset her more. I was making it worse.
61. I looked at her and told her that I was glad, because I want to remember Uncle Bruce the way I last saw him, which was alive and rowdy.
62. It's true. The last time I saw him was at Christmas. The entire family had gotten together in Houston at my great Aunt Susie's ranch. There were a total of around 40 family members, all opening presents in a sandstorm of shiny red and green wrapping paper.
63. I spent the night and had lunch with everyone the next day. Before I drove back to Dallas, I stopped by Uncle Bruce's house to say good-bye. He was confined to a recliner, which he didn't appear to have much objection to. His skin had paled from the shade I remembered it being as a child. I'm not positive that it's entirely true. But for some reason, my childhood memories of him are of him being a little tanned.
64. I told him I was leaving and gave him a big hug. He was cracking jokes, talking about the ladies on tv, or something else that might have made more than one Reese Sister smack him with a newspaper.
65. And that's my last memory of Uncle Bruce.
66. And I love that.
67. The best thing about honoring Uncle Bruce's life, is that it's the most vivid memory I have. I will always remember him as that 83 year-old spitfire. Strokes and surgeries couldn't keep him from cracking a joke.
68. As I walked towards the church at 10:28 that morning, I was so unsure of how to handle myself. I was nervous. Anxious. I felt so heavy.
69. Two cops were leaning up against the hearse, talking. Telling a story or a joke. And laughing. They looked up and saw me walking towards them, with rain turning my red dress-shirt into a sloppy burgundy. They immediately stiffened up and put on their game faces, which turned out to be a rigid, tightened, somber, funeral-appropriate smile.
70. It amused me that these two guys had been joking around, and then immediately stiffened when I approached.
71. I understood. It was out of respect.
72. But what amused me, is that they stopped living their lives for a brief moment. And that's the opposite of what we should do. It's the opposite of what Uncle Bruce would have done. So I looked at the cops, smirked and said,
73. "So, did I miss all the good stuff, or just the previews?"
74. It took them a second, but the cops smiled and laughed a little. I returned the laugh, and kept walking towards the door.
75. I smiled.
76. That's what Uncle Bruce would have done. He would have kept the jokes going. He would have wanted life to continue.
77. So when I hugged my Aunt Ann, I knew exactly what images of Uncle Bruce I was referring to.
78. I think that Uncle Bruce was a smart guy, and not just a smart-ass. He lived loud and loved hard. He was tough. And honest. And he lived every available minute of his life to it's fullest capacity.
79. Looking back, I think all Uncle Bruce wanted for me was to live my life out loud. Be passionate. Love our family. Speak your heart. And I think I've done that.
80. So maybe he never saw my teen years as missed opportunities or lost time with me. Maybe he thought his work was done.
81. And I'm sure that his soul is out there, and knows now how much he impacted my life. Maybe it doesn't matter if we don't tell people those kinds of things before they die, because afterwards, they know all of it.
82. Those tears that my Aunt Ann sobbed in the church foyer spoke of her lifetime adoration of this man more than any words she ever possibly formulated while he was alive. And he wasn't here to see it. But I believe in my heart that once his body died, his spirit knew all of those things we felt for him...never said...couldn't say to him.
83. In my reality, there are no missed "I love you's." You just get a lump sum at the end.
84. It may be a bit of a rose-colored glasses theory, but it's what I think. Mainly because in my theory, he knows I didn't mean to be late.
85. And he knows all the wise-cracks I would have said to him over the years. And I bet he is laughing harder than he ever did on earth.
86. Because that's how I remember him.
87. Laughing.
    

The Story Where God Snubs Andy Warhol

1. It wasn't the first time God spoke to me. Nor would it be the last. It was just the first time I realized it was Him speaking to me.
2. And it was definitely the first time I had the wherewith all to pay attention, make mental notes and ask questions.
3. I sat in the black wicker chair by the window, looking down over the streets of San Francisco. It was past midnight, and the amount of activity below had died down considerably.
4. God sat a comfortable distance away in my chair's twin.
5. He looked at me with a sincere, blissful smile upon his face. The small spaces between each tooth of his dreamy grin were filled with a contentment I longed for.
6. I had just put out a cigarette and re-lit another one in a single, consistent motion. I must have had an apologetically guilty expression on my face after the first drag, because God's smile got brighter and He said,
7. "Oh feel free to chain-smoke. Here, I'll join you."
8. And without hesitation He took a cigarette from his own pack, held it between His thin fingers, kissed the flame to the tip and inhaled regretlessly.
9. I immediately felt less guilty. He's quite good at making me feel that.
10. It was a bit unnerving to realize you're sitting in a room with God.
11. He stood up and walked to the shelf by the doorway. He removed a cd without even looking at it.
12. "I think you'll like this."
13. He put the cd in the stereo and raised the volume. And we began listening to audio sessions of The Beatles' making of the song "Strawberry Fields Forever."
14. Yes, God is a huge Beatles fan. He spoke for hours about John and Yoko, the inspiration behind certain songs, facts and trivia. God knew everything about The Beatles.
15. I took the opportunity to ask any questions I had and He gladly answered them all.
16. Previous to this moment, I always imagined that if I ever had the opportunity to talk to God, I would have a list of esoteric questions about life, death and everything in between.
17. When you are in the presence of God, all of those thoughts are lost. It can't help but be anything except His moment. And your heart wouldn't want it any other way.
18. My mind wanted to know answers, but my heart just wanted to be with Him. I was content with hearing Him tell His stories.
19. He told me of different lives he had seen. Art He loved and appreciated. He loved art. It seemed to bring more joy to his face than any other subject.
20. And most specifically, The Beatles.
21. "Do you hear how raw that sounds?"
22. I nodded. Although it sounded like a criticism, the look on his face showed anything but.
23. "They recorded this in a basement. You can really appreciate this after hearing the final version."
24. Staring at the cd player, I said "It sounds so different."
25. "To some. But to Me, I can hear everything that this song was going to be."
26. Tears began to overwhelm my eyes. He was right.
27. "The journey is just as beautiful as the destination," I said.
28. "Exactly.
29. It's just like this city. In the 80's, San Francisco was a wonderful city, but it looked awful. That was during the A.I.D.S. scare. Everyone had it. You could see death walking around the street. Tourism stopped. It was awful.
30. But you knew deep down it wouldn't stay this way. And it didn't.
31. It's beautiful and thriving now. Not as much as it did in the 60's or 70's, but it will again one day.
32. I'd love to see an art-wave hit San Francisco again. Like an artist commune. It needs an Andy Warhol."
33. I thought for a second and said, "Yeah, kind of like what Lady Gaga does."
34. "Who?" He asked.
35. "Lady Gaga!" I screamed excitedly. "You have to know who she is."
36. "Tell me about her."
37. Whether He knew who she was or not, it was clear I was excited to talk about her, so He let me. Every bit of passion He felt when talking about The Beatles, I reciprocated by describing Lady Gaga's artistry, innovation and talent. I even showed Him a video of her live performance.
38. His jaw dropped and he smiled.
39. "She's fantastic. Maybe there is hope for the world."
40. I did tell Him that I feared for the World at times.
41. "Don't. I have faith in people. And you should too."
42. At this moment the cd was playing it's last track, the final version of "Strawberry Fields Forever." We both sat there, with the night air slipping in through the window.
43. When the song ended He got up and put a new cd in the stereo.
44. "Let's smoke one more. This song will be a good way to end the night."
45. As I lit my cigarette, Billie Holiday began singing.
46. "It's quarter to three
47. There's no one in the place except you and me
48. So set 'em up Joe, I've got a little story you oughta know
49. Make it one for my baby
50. And one more for the road."
51. "You want to hear a story about Andy Warhol?"
52. I nodded frantically.
53. "Once back in the 80's I was in a bar in New York. I was dressed all punk. I had rips in my jeans, a safety pin in my ear. I looked like I belonged in that city.
54. It was crowded and next to me stood an old man with dirty white hair, sunglasses and an old overcoat. He turned and looked at me and said, 'I like your look.'
55. I turned to him and said, 'Um, I don't think so.' Then I ashed my cigarette and turned my back to him."
56. I stared in disbelief.
57. "Hold on there's more. After a minute, he and his group of people were seated at their table. A few minutes after that, one of the women in his group approached me at the bar and said, 'Excuse me, but Andy would like to speak to you.'
58. 'Who's Andy?' I asked.
59. 'Andy Warhol,' she replied dryly."
60. He either chuckled at the story or the look on my face. I felt my stomach drop as if I had been the one to diss Andy Warhol and then get escorted to his table.
61. "She led me over to Andy's table and indicated a chair next to him. I sat down. He looked at me and smiled and said, 'I can't remember the last time someone didn't know who I was and blew me off. Thank you. It was refreshing.'"
62. God and I laughed hard together.
63. He looked at me and smiled.
64. "I guess one man's faux pas is another man's..."
65. "Epiphany," He concluded.
66. "It's just like Billie. You can feel her pain and longing in her songs. But it's so beautiful."
67. As I got ready to sleep that night, I realized that God doesn't intervene the way we expect. We pray for Him to immediately step in and change the way life is.
68. He knows better.
69. He shows up and redirects us, so the we can get what we want.
70. He sees how beautiful our lives will be at the end, even when we are at the beginning, or even stuck in the middle.
71. He can turn any situation into the right situation.
72. He gave Andy Warhol a pivitol moment of clarity by being rude to him.
73. And He gave me a pivitol moment of clarity by being my friend.
74. He said everything I needed to hear. He was passing the torch. He was inspiring me to take the next step in life.
75. As I left the room, He was singing along to the end of Billie's song:
76. "Thanks for the cheer
77. I hope you don't mind my bending your ear
78. But this torch that I've found, it's gotta be drowned
79. Or it's gonna explode
80. Make it one for my baby
81. And one more for the road."