Anger and ???

I’m an angry man. 

I’m beginning to realize that. Or accept what I hear people say.

I’m not certain I have a reason to be as angry as I used to.

I’ve a brother second to none, a lady I could have only dreamt of, step kids who…who are kids as best as kids can be.

I’m employed by a good firm who challenges my skills and who pays me well.

I have a circle of friends all of whom I cherish… Yes, you too.

But.

I scowl. 

My “go to” is anger, mistrust and, ultimately, fear.

Mostly anger.

See, anger has been my friend for decades. It’s protected me, kept strangers away, assured my safety when I was homeless. Anger became natural.

Anger became comfortable.

I don’t need that protection today, my life is good.

I am safe.

I am rebuilding the wreckage of the past. ….. To the best of my ability.

Anger no longer needs to be my refuge.

Maybe just an old friend you call up when you really need him.

The Champ

I was born in the sixties, raised it the seventies.

Then the eighties happened.

We’re sorry about the eighties, really we are.

The seventies, though, what a great time. The life, the joy, the excess.. An era to never be repeated.

We had ‘events’. 

Evel Knievel jumped  Wembly Stadium, plans were made, groups gathered. His crash broadcasted in horror worldwide.

Elvis Presley had the world’s first satellite broadcast concert in 1973. We were stuck to the tube.

But, Ali. 

The Champ.

Oh, how we would wait.

Anticipate and activate.

 In the yard, a left, a right.

A shot that jarred.

What did you muffle??

Not me, I did the Ali shuffle.

The Champ was an occurrence. An event.

A spectacle.

Muhammad Ali represented the best in man. A person who was willing to sacrifice everything important in his life to hold onto his ideals.

A man willing to be oppressed to fight oppression.

Willing to walk through Hell for his heavenly cause.

Champ, you inspired a generation of excess, you met with great leaders.

You became a beacon of peace.

Muhammad Ali, you are still a hero.

Bless your journey.