The Cheek of God

(After Cormac McCarthy)

“On this road there are no godspoke men. They are gone and I am left and they have taken with them the world. Query: How does the never to be differ from what never was?”

_~ The Road _~

He is rundown and unenlightened as he drives and scans the dense and unkempt roadside fescue for any sign of wildlife. The tedious treadmill of his factory job leaves his senses dull and recovery is dilatory and shrouded in steamy darkness cut only by highbeams and occasional distant brakelamps. A twenty minute progression of second after second of endeavoring to forget.

He navigates the steep of his cracked concrete driveway and nestles into the trashstrewn garage and shifts to park and kills the engine and is overcome by the silence. Broken by the boy who has been waiting for his arrival. Hey dad, he says. How was your day? He lies. Not too shabby. Why aren’t you in bed? He’s never in bed when the man pulls in. The everpresent nightlight from his bedroom window a beacon and sleep doesnt come until the man appears safe and smiling. Youd better head to bed now, he says. Dont forget to brush your teeth. They hug each other. Eventually the boy nods off with a blanket pulled over his head and his feet exposed and dangling as though sleep took him by surprise. Such are his dreams of monsters in closets and burning stucco houses these days that being ready to decamp for a reassuring touch makes sense to him.

How was your day, she says. Alright I guess. Yours? They glance at each other and she returns to what she was doing when he came home. He sets aside a book he carries and opens the laptop buried on his desktop under piles of childrens books and the daily post. He spends a few moments clearing his inbox and watches the weatherman scroll through and under images of red and green systems moving in from the West. Better bring the bikes and trashcan onto the porch, he says but doesnt move.

By lamplight he reads from a book that inspires him and makes his eyelids heavy. The dichotomy weights his mind. She walks through the house securing doors and extinguishing lights left on and brushes her teeth and slips off her clothes and slides under the handmade overlay he shares when he gets cold as morning approaches.

I love you, she says. I love you too. He thinks about a macadam stretch and how it is supple in the sun and steadfast at nightfall and the way each moment it is a place thats different and yet the same roadway. They maneuver to share a kiss and then drift to sleep in the darkness slatted by the intermittent streetlight . . .

[photo credit]

Well, it’s Sunday morning. Around 9:30 AM EDT. And my carcass is finally out of bed.

Before my daughter and I do the drawing, here is the list of Tweakers who are in the running for $20 to spend at Barnes & Noble. Take some time to visit a new blog today . . . Tweakers are very interesting people.

And please, hold your applause until the end.

allstarme – who got so scared once that she peed in her Halloween costume.

we-be-toys – the history junkie, especially concerning the state of Pennsylvania.

Tasses – who hates herself for her ability to tell you all the latest smut about Lindsey Lohan.

ourcrookedtree – a fellow burger-flipper who dug way into the obscure with her list.

Clayjack – with his socks dangling from the ends of his feet after a hard day’s toil.

Nicole – the mutant twentysomething with baby teeth.

kweenmama – who has a lovely place to hang her purple hat when she gets old and senile.

heatherakamrssmith – who got the one about Milli Vanilli right a day too late.

Captain Steve – who got locked out of mom and dad’s room one night, much to her dismay and confusion.

ie – and her incredibly vast vocabulary, which now includes absquatulate and palimpsest.

Maggie, dammit - one of my oldest and dearest Tweakers, potty trained in an outhouse.

nonlineargirl – your one-stop-gal for all things sliver-related.

hellesbelles86 – who is still working on not being afraid of Big Bird.

meg – another long-time reader with a cute pug and a thing for late-night TV lullabies.

Michael – my Canadian photoblogging friend who directed a real, honest-to-God movie that perhaps meg should check out.

RiverPoet – who can spell dossil even if it is the wrong word.

And finally Erika – who snuck in just in time reeking of garlic toast and orange juice. Girlfriend?!?!?! Ewww!

Others left some great comments but either didn’t leave an obscure fact or voluntarily chose not to be in the drawing. Also, if you have a blog and I didn’t link to it, please let me know and I’ll correct that posthaste.

Now, let’s have a big round of applause for our contestants!

[insert irritating commercial break here, because you simply can't announce the winner until the sponsors have been paid . . . ]

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for . . .

Which Tweaker will be shopping for a new book soon? Zoe will now reach deep into my Queensryche hat and dig out a name (written in crayon, of course) . . .

And the winner is . . .

Congratulations, nonlineargirl! You should be receiving an email shortly where we’ll hammer out the details. There is one stipulation, my friend. You must let us know what you decide to buy and why. For in knowing what a person reads, you get to know and appreciate them that much better.

I leave you all with this . . .

When I look back, I am so impressed again
with the life-giving power of literature.
If I were a young person today, trying to gain a sense of
myself in the world, I would do that again by reading,
just as I did when I was young.
~ Maya Angelou ~

[photo credit]

Let’s get this over with, shall we? So I can move on.

See, I’ve been brooding over what to write for my 100^th post for far too long. I considered a Cliff Notes sort of retrospective where I link to all my favorite posts. But I have always despised those types of era-ending pontifications. So I entertained the idea of a post where I finally come clean regarding certain personal yet vitally important life-altering beliefs. Like faith and God and stuff. You know, something über-philosophical and erudite. Nah. Just not in the mood at this point.

One hundred posts is quite an achievement for many of us bloggers. Especially for those who take this thing seriously. Many of you Tweakers reached his particular summit long ago, while others are still making the climb. Each excellent-charming-witty post like a piton pounded home deep in the rock of the blogosphere. I’m told this is a time to stop and reflect on what lies before. And what changes lie ahead. I’ve done enough of that recently, so I’ll spare you here.

So this is what you get.

Erika did this recently. So have my wife and my daughter. Hell even

these
folks
did
it

and I don’t even know who they are. I found them on Google Blog Search. So it must be the cool thing to do. And I’m all about being cool. However, being a huge fan of Casey Kasem, and because I possess a rather iridescent rebellious streak, I’m going in reverse order. Working our way to #1. Let’s have at it . . . and there’s a prize waiting at the end, so no skimming dammit!

100. My favorite word is absquatulate.

99. I first came across the word in Thomas Pynchon’s Against the Day.

98. I never finished it.

97. I mean, co’mon, it’s like over 1100 pages long!

96. I did, however, manage to finish Don Quixote.

95. And Moby Dick.

94. And The Brothers Karamazov.

93. But not The Satanic Verses.

92. And I really want to.

91. Someday . . .

90. I use that word a lot. Someday . . .

89. . . . I’ll get a short story published.

88. . . . I really will graduate from college.

87. . . . we will have enough dough left over to get a new gaming console.

86 . . . . or an HDTV.

85. . . . or cable.

84. We still use rabbit ears.

83. Connected to those nifty little digital converters.

82. The reception still sucks because we live in the boonies of NE Indiana.

81. Corn? No problem.

80. FOX? Nope.

79. I’m not really bummed out about that.

78. Although my wife has to unplug the thing to get American Idol.

77. I thought Bo Bice should have won.

76. Haven’t watched it since.

75. I’m ¼ of the way done with this list.

74. I was born in Kansas City, Missouri.

73. A long time ago.

72. I moved seventeen times before graduating from high school.

71. Dad had one of those jobs where they liked to relocate you occasionally.

70. Occasionally?!

69. I learned to hate cardboard boxes.

68. I used to be a really big fat guy.

67. In this picture I weighed 385 pounds.

66. Then I had an open Roux-en-Y.

65. Permanent weight loss surgery.

64. That was over six years ago . . .

63. . . . down at the Bariatric Weight Loss Center of Excellence at St. Vincent Carmel Hospital.

62. I now weigh 180 or so.

61. Most days I feel like a million bucks.

60. Although now I have a difficult time floating when I go swimming.

59. And I used to be so buoyant!

58. My second favorite word is palimpsest.

57. I love the way it rolls around on the tongue.

56. And how it describes my life.

55. Written upon.

54. Erased.

53. Rewritten.

52. With shadows of the old remaining.

51. It’s mind-blowing, really.

50. Half way there . . .

49. I kick ass at Guitar Hero.

48. But only on medium difficulty.

47. These arthritic and uncoordinated fingers just can’t manage that orange fret.

46. I’m uncomfortable talking to children between the ages of 2 and 17.

45. I’m lying.

44. I stole that one from Erika.

43. And, since all four of my kids fall in that age range, I imagine she’d have a helluva time around my place.

42.

41. I’ve never met anyone really famous.

40. Although in my southern gospel radio days I did interview Vestal Goodman.

39. She was a sweetie.

38. She called me “Sugar” about 27 times.

37. When I first started dating my wife, I impressed her by shoving pizza up my nose.

36. Yeah. She still digs me.

35. My first full-time job was at McDonald’s.

34. I made the best damn biscuits on the south side!

33. People came from miles around . . .

32. Nevermind.

31. I’m generally uncomfortable in large crowds.

30. Though, being skinny now, I don’t stand out as much.

29. I sink into the anonymity my normal look affords me.

28. When I speak, I am quiet.

27. People often say, “What?”

26. I just don’t like being the showman anymore.

25. Only 24 to go . . .

24. I began The Cheek of God in February of 2008.

23. I’ve had over 8,000 views and people have left over 600 comments.

22. Some of you are regular readers.

21. Tweakers, as I like to call you.

20. You are some of the coolest people on the planet.

19. Running this blog is a bit like hosting a huge party where only one’s best friends are invited.

18. Ideas circulate.

17. Stimulate.

16. And bonds are forged.

15. I love you guys.

14. My God! With only 13 left I now find myself in the strange position of having to pick and choose.

13. And I hate making decision.

12. What juicy piece of information should I leave you with?

11. What nugget of wisdom and insight?

10. Last night, for the first time ever (believe it or not) one of my kids walked in while the wife and I were . . . um . . . you know.

9. First. Time. Ever!

8. Talk about a mood-buster . . .

7. We laughed about it, once all the high-decibel shooing and frantic blanket-grabbing was over.

6. But . . .

5. Now what?

4. How does one deal with this sort of thing.

3. I suppose some sort of conversation is in order.

2. Or do you just let something like that slide?

1. Ah, the joys and struggles of being me.

Life is exciting!

I promised a prize. You deserve it if you made it this far. How about a $20.00 gift card to Barnes & Noble? Usable online if you prefer. Just leave a comment sharing one obscure thing about yourself and your name will go in a hat. (Immediate family members are ineligible; you guys get books all the time!) On Sunday morning, when I finally drag my carcass out of bed, I’ll have my youngest daughter draw a name. Completely random-like.

The gift of reading. In honor of my 100^th post. I dig that idea . . .

[photo by (Meagan)]

This is my 100^th post.

If you recall, it promised to be a doozy.

But that was before this . . .

That’s how much I weakly scrawled the check for this morning. For a new alternator and serpentine belt, labor, and battery charge. The morning we were to hit the open road.

Ain’t it pretty?! The family carriage is operating at maximum efficiency again.

But the miniscule amount in our discretionary spending fund has left the building. So we’re staying home.

How about we all agree that this will be officially and henceforth be known as post #99.5? ‘Kay?

All I’ve got left is this . . .

But . . .

Go see Flutter’s and Jennifer’s posts. Please? Make it all worth the effort.

Like Marvin, I’m hopelessly depressed . . .

(This post contains a first for me.  An audio file!  What’s the point in printing lyrics if you can’t listen to the song?!  Just hit play on the little player above the lyrics and be amazed!  However, if you’re reading this in a blog reader of some sort, you may have to scroll down a bit to find the player . . . )

Spent some time looking in the mirror this morning.

Really looking . . .

Not for blemishes.  Those are too numerous to count.  Not at the chalky toothpaste splatters.  Solidified and oblong.  They’ll be swiped soon enough.

The hard kind of look that eventually grows pensive.  Where you no longer see what’s there but what has been.  And what could be.  What lied behind.  And what stretches endlessly ahead.  I see a blurry image of a weary and desperate man grasping for a life ring that keeps drifting out of arms reach.  And then I smile, witness him figuring out how to relax.  Learn to float again.

I see Someone Else . . .

When I fell from grace
I never realized
how deep the flood was around me.
A man whose life was toil
was like a kettle left to boil,
and the water left these scars on me.

I know now who I am.
If only for a while,
I recognize the changes.
I feel like I did before the
magic wore thin and the baptism
of stains began.

They used to say I was
nowhere, man,
heading down
was my destiny.
But yesterday, I swear,
that was someone else not me.

Here I stand at the crossroads edge,
afraid to reach out for eternity,
One step, when I look down,
I see someone else not me.

Looking back and I see
someone else.

All my life they said I
was going down,
but I’m still standing,
stronger, proud.
And today I know there’s
so much more I can be.

From where I stand at the crossroads edge,
there’s a path leading out to sea.
And from somewhere
deep in my mind,
sirens sing out loud
songs of doubt
as only they know how.
But one glance back reminds, and I see,
someone else not me.

I keep looking back
at someone else… me?

. . . and then I confidently flip off the lightswitch and walk into my life.

(We’ll be on vacation starting tomorrow.  Going down south to visit my side of the family.  Hoping Papaw has a good day while I’m there.  And looking forward to working on my 100th post.  It promises to be a doozy . . . )

[photo credit]