March 28: Lost Keys, Mark Strand, "The Garden"

I have lost my keys.  Well, actually, I have misplaced my keys.  They are not in my normal coat pocket.  They are not in my house or my car.  Therefore, I believe that I have left them on my desk at work.  At least, that is what I'm hoping.

My wife sometimes calls me the absent-minded professor.  I have a habit of losing things temporarily.  I get distracted, walk off, forget.  When I was a child, I was highly unfocused.  I bounced from reading to writing to wanting to digging up a dinosaur in the backyard to finding a dirty magazine under my brother's mattress.

That may sound like ADHD.  I have never been diagnosed.  My mother's solution for my erratic attention was making me take piano lessons.  It worked.  I was able to practice for extended periods of time at the keyboard.  And that ability to concentrate spilled over into other areas of my life.

However, I still get distracted, still misplace things.

Poetry helps Saint Marty focus, as well.

The Garden

by:  Mark Strand

          for Robert Penn Warren

It shines in the garden,

in the white foliage of the chestnut tree,   

in the brim of my father’s hat

as he walks on the gravel.

In the garden suspended in time   

my mother sits in a redwood chair:   

light fills the sky,

the folds of her dress,

the roses tangled beside her.

And when my father bends

to whisper in her ear,

when they rise to leave

and the swallows dart

and the moon and stars

have drifted off together, it shines.

Even as you lean over this page,   

late and alone, it shines: even now   

in the moment before it disappears.

August 10: Aught to Teach Me, One Hundred Thousand, Perspective

"Spirit," said Scrooge submissively, "conduct me where you will.  I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now.  To-night, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."

Scrooge is speaking to the Ghost of Christmas Present.  The Ghost of Christmas Past has already taught him a few things, and now Scrooge says he will accompany the Second Spirit, ready to accept any lesson coming his way.  Scrooge is already a mighty humbled literary character.

I learned a lesson last night while I was looking for my lost keys.  I learned that some of the things that preoccupy my thoughts on a daily basis are pretty silly.  When I found my keys last night, I experienced a kind of happiness and relief I haven't felt in a long time.  I know it seems stupid to get that upset about a set of keys, but I did.  And it put things into perspective for me in a way.

Most of the stuff I worry about day-to-day is pretty small.  I've been obsessing about the poetry contest I entered.  Money is in my thoughts constantly.  In the past week, I've been thinking about my daughter's dance lessons this fall.  I still have to put together a syllabus for my film class, and I haven't even finished reading my textbook.

Life is full of worries.  Worry has been the guiding force of my life recently.  Small worries and big worries.  But worry doesn't do any good.  It doesn't solve problems.  It doesn't stave off fear.  It doesn't make me feel any safer or more prepared for challenges.  Worry is just a waste of energy.

I let small things, like keys, run my life.  If I have my keys, then everything will be great, all the time.  The sun will shine.  I will have plenty of money in my bank account.  I will win that poetry contest.  President Obama will be elected to a second term.  The Swedish Academy will award me the Nobel Prize in Literature.  World peace will be established. 

Of course, all that's just a load of horse crap.

Keys will not solve the problems of the world.  Neither will worry.  Worry just opens up doors to more worries.  Worry makes life miserable.  I just need to do my work, take care of my family, and recognize the blessings of my life.  That's my job.

In that spirit, I will acknowledge a blessing this morning:  Saint Marty just passed 100,000 page views.  That's an amazing blessing.  One hundred thousand people have looked at or stumbled upon my blog.  I hope that I have done some good with my posts.  Provided some laughs or comfort or wisdom.  Maybe alleviated some worries.

Saint Marty celebrates one hundred thousand blessings today.

August 9: Lost Keys

This afternoon has kind of sucked.  Actually, it's more than kind of sucked.  It has really sucked.

I lost my keys this afternoon.  These are the keys to every place I work, my house, my parents' house.  I have been tearing out what little hair I have left looking for these keys.  I've turned my house upside down.  I've torn through both of our cars.  I've rewalked the route I walked this morning with my family.  I called the hotel where we went swimming this afternoon.  It has been three or four hours from hell.

I have gotten down on my knees and prayed several times.  If you know me, you know that I am going to drive myself insane until those keys surface.  I can't think of anything else.  Now, if I were a true and trusting Christian, I'd sit back, relax, and tell myself that God will help take care of things.  I haven't quite reached that point yet.

I have prayed to Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things.  Saint Anthony has never let me down.  I mean never.  I pray, and Saint Anthony delivers.

Saint Marty needs help tonight.  A lot of help.

C'mon, Saint Anthony.  I need some help tonight.

March 16: Chance and Hope, Lost Keys, the Pilot

"Hear me!" cried the Ghost.  "My time is nearly gone."

"I will," said Scrooge.  "But don't be hard upon me!  Don't be flowery, Jacob!  Pray!"

"How is it that I appear before you in a shape that you can see, I may not tell.  I have sat invisible beside you many and many a day."

It was not an agreeable idea.  Scrooge shivered, and wiped perspiration from his brow.

"That is no light part of my penance," pursued the Ghost.  "I am here to-night to warn you, that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate.  A chance and hope of my procuring, Ebenezer."

Scrooge has been a son of a bitch for quite a while before the Ghost of Jacob Marley pays him a visit.  By Marley's account, Scrooge's chain of sins and crimes even beats Marley's own chain, and Marley's own chain is long enough to keep Houdini busy for quite a few minutes.  So Marley's offer of a "chance and hope" is huge.  Scrooge has a long way to go for redemption.

Even though this little interchange between Jacob and Scrooge appears within the first stave of the novel, it fills me a sense of human possibility.  If Scrooge has a chance, then anybody has a chance.  Just because I've made mistakes in the past, or just because I'm making mistakes in the present, doesn't mean I'm completely lost.  Jacob Marley's appearance seems to indicate that there's always hope, for Scrooge, for anybody.

Last night, I lost my keys.  I hate losing my keys.  I couldn't find them anywhere.  They weren't in my car.  They weren't in my coat pockets.  They weren't in my book bag.  They simply weren't there.  In the past, when I've lost my keys, I've gone a little crazy.  For me, having my keys is having control.  When I can't find my keys, I feel as though things are slipping through my fingers.  Last night, however, I didn't panic.  I didn't tear my house or car apart.  I just obtained a spare set of keys and gave the rest up to God.

This morning, I found my keys at my place of work.  By placing my faith in God, I avoided a whole lot of drama last night.  In the past, I would have got in my car, driven back to my office, and ransacked the place until I found my keys.  Instead, I waited and searched calmly this morning.  It took me exactly three minutes to locate them.  And I did it without losing my mind.

This says it all...

I think that's the nature of hope and faith.  I had complete faith that my keys would show up this morning.  I never feared.  I never lost hope.  I'll admit that, when I got to work and my keys weren't immediately visible on my desk, the alarms started going off in my head.  I started to panic.  For just a minute or so.  Then I talked myself down off the ledge and began a methodical search.  Two minutes later, I had my keys in hand.

I think God does that to me on purpose every once in a while, just to remind me who's actually in charge.  It ain't me, that's for sure.  And then, when I start to embrace my limitations again, God gives me back the keys to the kingdom (or at least my office).  It's sort of like the story of God telling Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac.  It's a test of faith.  Abraham never lost faith or hope.  I didn't either.

Yes, I'm comparing losing my keys to Abraham sacrificing his only child.  Seems ridiculous, I know, but that's how my mind works.  Sometimes holding on to faith is easy, and sometimes it's really difficult.  Jacob Marley has to drag Scrooge, kicking and screaming, back to faith and hope.  Of course, it takes three additional ghosts to assist Marley in helping the old bastard, but eventually the old bastard gets it and is saved.  Scrooge is given his keys back.

So if you lose your keys today, have a little faith and hope.  It works.  Believe me.

In the mean time, do what Saint Marty did when his keys were lost last night:  find a spare set and relax.  God's not the copilot.  He's the pilot.

October 18: I Don't Care, Busy Morning, Lost Keys

I woke up this morning.  That's the best thing that's happened so far.  I woke up.  I give thanks to God for that.  After taking my shower (cut the crap out of my face shaving) and getting dressed (need to lose weight for the pants I'm wearing), I put on my coat and got ready to leave.  Remember, this is all before 5 a.m.  That's when I realized my car keys were missing.  I went berserk.

Let me back up a little bit.  We got home around 8 p.m. last night from the Wisconsin Dells.  Between bathing children, unpacking the car and suitcases, and shuttling young ones off to bed, I somehow misplaced the keys to my automobile.  No real big surprise.  It was insanely hectic.  Remember how I said I had the best daughter in the world yesterday?  I still do, but she can get really whiny after eight or so hours in a car.  And my three-year-old son's tolerance for car travel lasts about as long as an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants.

Well, I went on an all-out key safari for about ten minutes.  I didn't find them.  Then I said a little prayer to Saint Anthony.  For those of my disciples who aren't Catholic, Saint Anthony is the patron saint of lost things.  Basically, if you lose something, you're supposed to say a little prayer to Tony, and he's supposed to help you find it.  He's my "go-to" homeboy, if you get my meaning.  He's never let me down.  After saying the prayer, I checked the pockets of my coat again.  Nothing.  Then I felt something odd inside my coat, right next to my chest.  I reached into the lining of my jacket and pulled out my keys.  Like I said, Tony's my homeboy.

I haven't stopped since I found those keys.  I had to drop by Walmart on the way to work to purchase something for today's potluck.  Then, when I got to work after being away for two days, I had to play a little catch-up.  Print out forms and schedules.  Arrange charts.  Figure out what the hell's going on.  Between the time I left on Thursday afternoon and this morning, someone moved the time clock.  Therefore, I had to go on a time clock safari.  I found it on the opposite side of the wall on which it used to hang.

To make a long story even longer, I have this intuition that I'm going to be a little behind all day long.  That's the way it is after a vacation, whether it's two days or two weeks.  And you know what?  I don't care.  I just don't care what happens today.  I'm tired, annoyed, and more than a little grouchy.  It feels like a Monday.

Saint Marty needs to get a new attitude, or somebody's going to end up on the wrong side of a bad limerick.


Repeat after me:  "There was a young saint named Marty..."