my careless contagion

Here begins my Nebraska retrospective – four parts in all, not including intro and conclusion. I have focused a lot on my childhood in this blog. It's an accepted belief that our childhoods greatly influence who we become as adults. There is some debate, of course, but the nurture part of nature/nurture is very important. It is safe to say I didn't have a very nurturing upbringing. I have focused on my childhood primarily because I moved back to where I was born about five years ago, and with that move, the memories came crashing in on me. This is where my original memories are, at least until the age of 10 years old, and, having family here, we often came back to visit, too.  The next nine years of my life, though, were spent in Nebraska. We moved to a town called Broken Bow over Christmas break in 1987. That is where this retrospective begins.  Initially, I was heartbroken after this move. Gradually, I saw that it was, indeed, a good move for my family. It was a be...

No, Nebraska is not for everyone. It's widely derided for being "flyover country," for being flat (it's the 20th flattest state, not even close to being the flattest — Florida), for being "cow country," "corn country," and for having a proud college football heritage but failing to live up to that heritage for, oh, about 20 years. But, hey, I hear they have a proper football coach again. And they've always had some of the finest mollisols on the planet. Nebraska, a heckuva place. I had never seen a blizzard before moving to Nebraska at the age of 10. I had never had a snow day. I got both of those within days of moving there in 1987. I can still recall the wonder of driving around town after the blizzard with the snow piled high in the middle of the streets. We couldn't see cars on the other side of the road! Yeah, Nebraska is not for everyone. Nine years of my life were spent here. These were years filled with many changes, now that...

Fifty reasons why I am bad at relationships (and life in general). Haha, prepare yourself for a long post. It's quite possible I made some of these up. Hint: I didn't make up the first one. Or the last one. 1) My voice is shitty. It vacillates between sounding like Hank Hill, the protagonist of King of the Hill (an animated series created by Mike Judge), and Ned Flanders from The Simpsons. I'm surprised I was allowed to have sex with a woman, any woman, with a voice like this. I'm pretty sure there's a law against it. Don't make me yell for any reason or bears will come out of the forest and eat babies out of sheer annoyance. I sound like a dying pterodactyl. Making love to another dying pterodactyl. *Shudder* 2) My sex drive went for a drive and never came back. Considering what I have to offer women, that's probably okay. I don't think anyone is going to feel sad they're missing out on my gummy worm. Actually, it's more like a gummy bea...

There she is again running through your head like she owns the place look at you you can't wait looking in the mirror you wonder what she sees in you Welcome to my daydreams and it's her always her always on the big screen always on the soundtrack always in the aisles always holding the door welcoming you to the inner corridor She became your perfect getaway without even trying you realize there will be hell to pay she took your pretty little things to the door and locked them out Like a crescendo she came crashing in on you with no defense you were all white flags no guts, no glory isn't that how the story goes? You were on your way out the door the friendly skies beckoned and strange women galore too bad she has the key and you're just looking through the keyhole You're a strong man passionate, a true believer in the ways of love you were sold out now you're sitting on a fencepost whistling a different song Sh...

Oh, the sanctity of fatherhood, the grandest of manly accomplishments. It's more than just the creation of life, of joining egg and sperm. It's a spiritual journey of sorts and a proclamation of manhood. While many more dollars extol the sacredness of motherhood on Mother's Day, not much is made of Father's Day. What gives? Well, maybe it's because most of us have dads who suck. Why celebrate that shit? I hate my father. I have many reasons. Shall we? My father has no idea who I am. After 41 years, he has no fucking clue. How does a man watch his son grow up (okay, maybe he wasn't around) and not know who he is, what he is made of, his strengths and weaknesses, or anything for that matter? And how am I always wrong, no matter what I say? I'm 41 years old and you're still correcting me? And you wonder why I am silent? When my father learned I was to become a father, his words of wisdom to me were: "Maybe now you'll get your shit togeth...