my careless contagion

"Divorce is stupid," I thought, as I turned my attention back to the game of billiards I was playing with my son. I observed the man I just met with his girlfriend and her kids at the pool. We were playing pool at the clubhouse, and my son said he knew the man so went and said hi, which led to me meeting him, as well. My thoughts continued with, "You just exchange families and end up raising someone else's kids, while some other man raises yours."  Incidentally, I met this man before, before all the bullying at my son's school. It was orientation. The man knew who I was and introduced himself because he did work for my parents and thought they were great people. (They can be.) Dominic is his name. He is the father of the kid, Ben, who was my son's main bully when school started. To say he was displeased with his son's actions would be an understatement. His son continues to exhibit poor behavior, but it's not usually directed at my son. They say ...

A Million Miles Away captures the plaintive longing and destitution of separation. Maybe you've been there. I think we all have. But there's more going on.  This song was featured on the classic film Valley Girl (1983), which helped make the band popular.  A lot changed since 1982, when this song was released. Back then, you couldn't text your love interest. You could call them, but they weren't home. People didn't just hang around at home. You'd have to leave a message, or it would just ring out. It would be like trying to reach me on my personal phone while I'm working. Good luck, everybody (nobody).  The song details a forever loss, not a temporary separation. Peter Case, songwriter, said it was written after a cherished affair ended. It portrays feeling lost, distant, alone, removed, bored, and maybe a little crazy. There is some hyperbole (like bro, you can't be a million miles away), but overall, the mood is somber and understated. That's becau...

Joey Baby Don't get crazy Detours, fences I get defensive I know you've heard it all before So I don't say it anymore I just stand by and let you Fight your secret war And though I used to wonder why I used to cry 'til I was dry Still sometimes I get a strange pain inside Oh Joey if you're hurting so am I Joey Honey I've got the money All is forgiven Listen, listen But if I seem to be confused I didn't mean to be with you And when you said I scared you Well, I guess you scared me too But we got lucky once before And I don't want to close the door And if you're somewhere out there Passed out on the floor Oh Joey, I'm not angry anymore Joey Baby Don't get crazy Detours, fences I get defensive I know you've heard it all before So I don't say it anymore I just stand by and let you Fight your secret war And though I used to wonder why I used to cry 'til I was dry Still sometimes I get a strange pain inside Oh Joey if you're hurting...

Love of a Lifetime was recorded in 1990 and released in 91. Ancient history. Probably forgotten by most who lived through those years. FireHouse was not a huge band (though their hair was), but they did have radio hits, of which this was their biggest. Sadly, I heard the lead singer passed a while back, but not before realizing how many people got married to this song, which he wrote.  Why am I, in 2025, writing about a song popular on the radio in 1991? Because, when the opening chords played all those years ago, I was captivated. I sat by the radio until it played (it was on heavy rotation) and taped it, believe it or not. I knew — someday — I would have the same kind of love he sang about.  It wasn't the first time I noticed an obsessive streak in myself. When I find something interesting or compelling, I chase it down every dark and winding path. (My last name actually means to hunt or to chase a defeated foe. It's an old name, now believed to be of Dutch origin, though we...

Killing Me Softly With His Song was released by Roberta Flack in 1973, which is ancient history for me, as I wasn't born. But good songs have good bones, and good bones hold up to the creeping sands of time, which threaten to bury us all.  This song was written a couple years before Roberta recorded it, and many have since covered it to varying degrees of popularity. One of the most notable covers was The Fugees  (1996), before Lauryn Hill left to pursue a solo career. I recall owning The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, which is a good album.  In the hands of an artist, the meaning of a song can change. Roberta's version reveals the song is about a touching moment between a musician and a woman in the crowd. It's as if the man knew her deepest thoughts and desires, even her pain.  In the hands of the Fugees, it became a lost-love or unrequited-love song. It's not a love song, as we don't do happy songs anymore. They don't sell. What sells is poignancy and pain, an ...

The storm blew up while we were a mile from home. As luck would have it, neither of us checked the forecast. The rain never lasts long, but today it did, driving everyone inside. We were alone on the sidewalk, running now. We laughed because it happened so fast. We were soaked within seconds. Glad  I didn't bring my phone. Our happy, little walk turned into a fiasco, but we didn't seem to mind.  When my key hit the lock, I exhaled a sigh of relief. We stripped to our underwear there in the hallway, and you took a shower first. I wondered what was taking so long, but soon you were out and laying on the bed, a towel wrapped around your hair and a soft robe around your still shivering body. I showered quickly and joined you, throwing a fuzzy blanket over us. We laughed at the stupidity of running in the rain when we were already wet, then taking showers after, as if that fixed anything. We were still chilled, and you took off your robe and pressed yourself against me — not as an ...

This post is addressed to a particular person who won't read it, as she permanently left my life more than a year ago. However, forgiveness is, by its nature, selfish. This is for me. Because I made a public display of my affection for her and the outfall of whatever it was we had, I felt it necessary to make a public declaration of forgiveness. Again, this isn't for anyone but me. I must forgive. I do forgive. I have forgiven. I will forgive. As many times as it crosses my mind, I forgive.  There were no words to describe what happened. It was the single biggest hurt of my already painful life. Some may say it wasn't that bad, but it's not on them to decide. The one who was hurt decides how they feel. It sent me to a primal, destructive place from which I am still returning. There is no doubt I loved her, and still there exists a residue of God's love in my heart for her, but my feelings were staunched long ago.  It was the single saddest thing that happened to me....

When you told me you kept a seashell your grandmother gave you, you allowed me to see something. Our conversations fill me with wonder, as they are small revealings, tempting prompts that lead to something more, yet are endlessly satisfying on their own.  You are a mystery, an enigma, like a seashell without a story. Had you not told me the story, I never would have known where it came from, what it meant, how it made you feel. It is a small treasure, yet it travelled an unknown number of miles.  So it is with the heart that carried it. Without revealing yourself, little by little, line by line, I never would have stopped to ponder, probe, to discover more. You stopped me in my tracks, not overtly, but tenderly. Simply by being yourself. Other men may not notice what a man of patience and maturity sees. You are not ordinary. You are captivating, in a deep and wonderful way.  This isn't about a shell. This is about your heart. Like that shell, you don't have to shout to ge...

It's probably not the longest song title, but it may as well be. It also has the 80s written all over it, though it was released in 1991 (recorded in 1990). You know, maybe that's why I missed this song. I looked up Roxette's song catalog, and there are so many I can recall. This one, however, I missed. It was Roxette's last top-10 hit. Radio was turning away from the 80s sound in the early 90s, embracing the new, alternative sounds of grunge, ska, punk, whatever. Understated and grouchy versus whatever you call this. I call it awesome.  Roxette was a Swedish rock duo, and I would call this a power ballad. The gentle opening lulls you into thinking this is something else, then the chorus rips. Honestly, I could listen to songs like this the rest of my life. It's the kind of stuff that made middle school palatable. It played off the exaggerated feelings of tweens and almosts, as sort of a warning and a riddle of emerging adulthood and its complexity. It's similar...