I love dining out. I take my children with me most often (ok, pretty much all the time). So silence and peace during a meal for me is foreign. Very foreign. In fact, if I get out of the restaurant without some sore of mini disaster (spill, toys on the floor, seat getting taken by sibling) it's a win all the way around. If I eat my food, even better. It doesn't sound like it, but I love that. I love taking the kiddos on adventures. Breakfast, lunch or dinner adventures with the promise of something new and exciting, the chance to order your own food, and just spend time with Dad. Typically this daddy date occurs every Friday night. Sometimes on Saturdays.
It's interesting to see the dividing line of folks at the diners: Those with kids, and those without. Those without kids do not understand those with kids. They simply cannot fathom how the chaos and constant motion could be fun. They often get irritated with said children being children and snapping the perfect Instagram food selfie becomes increasingly difficult when you're getting lapped by a 3 year old. Kids are bothersome, yucky, and failures of parenting when out of line. The other faction, those with kids (or those who have once had kids) are much more understanding. Smiling and laughing - they ask questions; "How old are they? Are they twins? Is it pajama day?". They also make observations: "Looks like you've got your hands full there.... ". It's nice - they understand, they care, and they appreciate how difficult it is to take kids anywhere and how freaking cool my kids are. Because I have cool kids. Because they ARE wearing their pajamas and cowboy boots to dinner, because they can speak to you on the lineage of Disney's Princesses, evolution of Pokemon and the life cycle of the frog in the same conversation. But.... A strange thing happened to me the other day - I discovered a new faction of diner out there. The silent ones. Picture this: A couple was seated by the hostess. Elderly and shuffling they sat as if they has assigned seats. There was no question about what they were going to order. They would have the meatloaf. Because they always had the meatloaf. It is as regular as the sunrise. They took their jackets off and faced each other. Silence. Pure silence. Not a finger lifted, not a word said. A nod and a brief word to the waitress was it. Silence. 5, 10, now 15 minutes had gone by without a single word (or even a glance) being said. It was fascinating. By this time my children had just finished discussing the finer points of tone inflection through the songs of Disney's Moana and had moved on to their Christmas list for next year. "Dad- I still want a YoYo.".... But the couple, not one peep out of them. Not one. Magical. Almost by default the food came and they commenced their eating experience. Like clockwork in a factory they exchanged salt and pepper shakers, spread their napkins on their lap and continued their silent meal. It was almost as if they knew the other's move before they moved. LIke the prefrontal cortex of the brain prepping movement and muscles, these folks had this down to a science. They finished, paid (in exact change) and shuffled out, nary a word said for nearly 45 minutes. Were they communicating via telepathy? Was there something I was missing? Or were they in fact, simply that in touch with each other words were not necessary? I like to think the latter. I dream of a time in a relationship when you level up to a point where you are so in tune with each other you feel everything rather than say it. Transcending the communication barrier - like time travel. Your entire relationship becomes a give and take of habit and feelings and tradition rather than anything else. It's romance at the highest level. You've earned the silence. So, the next time you're out and about keep your eyes peeled for the Silent Ones. They're out there, and they're in rare form.
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Music is a funny thing. In a moment it can take you back to a person, a situation, a memory of exactly where you were when this tune starting infecting your brain. It can tie events together and memories together in a way that nothing else can (not even smell! Take that you freshly baked sugar cookies that remind me of Grandma's house!). Music can flood you with emotions and inspire you. It makes you pull out that old music medium (or simply do a YouTube Search) and pause your life, for just a moment to allow the past to become the present. In my house, my kids get forced to listen to what Daddy likes because Daddy is the boss. Yes, I realize this isn't a hit Trolls Soundtrack song. Yes, I realize this isn't in Moana. No, I won't stop the music because, damnit, you're gonna love it like I love it. Music is funny in that way too. BECAUSE it is tied to so many X-Factors in your memory and because it links things in ways nothing else can - it means certain things to people that means nothing to others. You love it because you had the experience with it. No-one else will ever understand how that makes you feel. Music is, an entirely independent, yet co-dependent experience. Eternally meaningful to only the listener, but eternally affected by those around at the time as well. Wow. Deep. Way deeper than I needed on a Saturday morning. SMASH MOUTH. You can still find them HERE. The Astro Lounge Disc. Wow. Talk about a flood of memories. Somehow, this resonated with my 1999 self. First thing that comes to my are my friends Tony and Ben. We listened to this record like some folks listen to their preacher. This was our church. We knew every song, every key, every small variation in vocal inflection that Steve Harwell would give us. We knew that the odd numbered tracks were more of our favorites than the even numbered tracks. We played that until my CD broke. Literally it disintegrated.
It was that summer we would go to Lake Powell. I think I spent two to three weeks there. Listening to Smash Mouth. The 4 hour drive was filled with this CD on repeat (on a personal discman with exernal speakers because the car didn't have a CD player mind you). One image permanently fixed into my brain: Riding in the back of the truck towing the boat cruising over the slow rollers of the San Rafael swell in Utah - nothing but sandstone and dirt for miles. With Smash Mouth singing "Road Man". I remember sitting on the shore of the lake, baking in the sun. With Tony and Ben. And Astro Lounge. To pass the time when we weren't in the water or doing crazy hikes or jumping off rocks into the water we read. We read the Anthologies of Calvin and Hobbes. Front to back. Back to front. Until these were in tatters. With Smash Mouth providing the soundtrack. Good lord I love me some Calvin and Hobbes. And Smash Mouth. And I still do-maybe even more than before because so many good things are tied to these tunes now. There is so much comfort in music and the memories you make and relate you. So, in my universe Smash Mouth, Lake Powell and Calvin and Hobbes come colliding together for some of my fondest memories. I can still feel the heat of that summer on the rocks when that record comes on. What records do you have that bring you back? 6 years ago I finally got to lock up this beautiful woman. We had met a fair bit before this, in arguably the toughest period of our lives. We were in school, under pressure, and only had each other. I distinctly recall it was the weekend of Halloween (at that age, Halloween is an event for weeks, not for a day). She was a rough cat (meaning she had cat ears on, maybe some whiskers) and I was attempting to be a tough guy as one of the main characters from The Boondock Saints. We knew we liked each other but we didn't really know where this was going. So, a few drinks later, I managed to profess my love for her. "I Love you." Yikes. Even slightly tipsy it took me by surprise. I tried to backpedal, I was scared, I was freaking out, and I wanted to go away. Was it too soon? She probably doesn't feel the same way, she probably won't ever talk to me again etc etc. But she did. She did more than just talk to me again. She said it back. Cue the fireworks and high fives. That was 11 years ago. 6 years ago she decided she would marry me. From there we've been on an adventure of epic proportions. Through good, bad, indifferent, a pair of kids, and a business, moving to a new city, and just life in general. She has stuck be my side through thick and thin. She does it effortlessly. It takes me a lot more work. I am so grateful for you Ashley. You are my rock and I strive to be more like you every day. Happy Anniversary. |