Family Ties

I never grew up close to my family. My extended family, that is. I grew up with my parents and brother, but since my dad was in the army, I never really knew my aunts, uncles and cousins. Every couple of years, whenever Dad got a new assignment and we moved again, we always seemed to find time to go back to Ohio and see the family. That was always a blast; it was like a vacation to where some of your best friends were staying. I may not have known every detail of their lives, but they were my family, and it was always good to see family.

As I got older (I'd be lying if I said I "grew up"), and as my immediate family and I settled in Denver, going back home to Ohio to see family became...not a chore, or a hassle, but, in a word, unimportant. When we moved here, I was just out of high school, aimless and clueless. (Sadly, for nearly 20 years after, that didn't change.) I was more focused on trying to figure my life out than I was with figuring out someone else's. Even if they were family. By the time I reached my late 20s, I'd settled into a groove - a repetitive, boring, stagnant and ugly groove. Family was something that came up around Thanksgiving and Christmas; occasional phone calls and emails that - unless something tragic happened - mostly served as a reminder that everyone out east was alive and doing well, and they were making sure you were doing the same.

When I got married in 2007, one of the many trips we had planned on taking was to Ohio. When I got married in Las Vegas (and trust me, there's lots of material in that scenario...) I was fotunate enough to have a large chunk of my family come out and celebrate with us. For those that came, we wanted to return the favor by going out and seeing them; for those who couldn't make it, I wanted to show off my lovely bride and our happy marriage. Three years, a couple of moves and one divorce later, we never did make it out there. My mom's sisters came out earlier this year, so that was a fun time. But now? Well, Facebook takes care of most of it, but I'd still like to get back out there and see everyone face-to-face. Especially the ones I haven't seen in years, which is a long list, unfortunately.

So by now, you're probably wondering, "Where are you going with this, dude?" It's a fair question, and one I aim to address in due time. For the last week, my cousin Aaron has been in town to help promote a film in which he's co-starring. "The Rock and Roll Dreams of Duncan Christopher" is an independent feature that's been making the festival rounds nationally and internationally  to some pretty awesome reviews, and was shown at the Starz Denver Film Festival just this weekend. The film is about facing fears, facing reality and realizing that what you want isn't always what you need.

Of course, that's my intrepretation. Others may, and probably will, vary.

My parents and I went to the Saturday night showing to help support Aaron and the film. The evening was lots of fun, and the film itself was great. Incredibly solid stuff on both sides of the camera; and that's good, because going in, we had no idea what to expect. We weren't nervous, though. We were hopeful. And our hopes were pleasantly rewarded. Following the film, there was a Q&A with some of the cast and crew. I want everyone to check out why so many people, myself now firmly included, are finding this wonderful film Simply Irresistible.

L - R: Simply Irresistible (The Dragon); cinematographer Luc Nicknair; writer,

co-producer and star Jack Roberts; director and co-producer Justin Monroe;

and an unidentified staff member of the Starz Film Festival

On Sunday, while Aaron was preoccupied while festival business, Dad and I were content to deal with football business. Mom, as usual, found other ways to kill time. On Monday, however, the burgeoning film powerhouse that is my cousin found time to mingle amongst the common people and join his family for dinner. That was followed by a quiet evening at home, where Aaron got to finally unwind a little after a long and winding journey.

Then came today. While the rest of the family had to work, Aaron and I got to spend some quality time together - something we both realized we hadn't done in probably close to 20 years. We started the morning off by Skyping with his lovely wife Justine and their adorable daughter Luna, then attempted to have breakfast at Watercourse Foods downtown. They were closed. Aaron was disappointed. Something about a chocolate milkshake, I think. Not quite sure there.

Anyway, we ended up at City O' City, which apparently is owned by the same company as Watercourse. Aaron knew that, I didn't. Leave it to the guy just passing through to show up the long-time resident. Two sweet potato cinnamon rolls, one vegan empanada, one coffee concoction and one biscuit & gravy later (I'll leave you to guess who had which...), the two of us had managed to catch up on a lifetime of history and talked about our goals for the future. It was a perfect end to a great visit, and I hope my cousin had as much fun hanging out today as I did.

Which, of course, is the whole point of today's entry. Family. But also something else. Something much more personal. Thirteen years ago, I stopped writing. Quit cold turkey. Doesn't matter why, it was still the single biggest mistake of my life. Back then, the reasons seemed so clear as to border on transparent. Unfortunately, filtered through a decade-plus of hindsight, that's exactly what they were: Transparent. I regretted it every day since, but I could not bring myself to start up again. I wasn't good enough, I wasn't dedicated enough, I wasn't lucky enough. There were plenty of excuses. It was all bogus; I know that. I knew it then, too. Still, it wasn't until March of this year that I finally broke through that cursed wall, pulled my head from my butt, and got the ball rolling again. Since March, I haven't looked back. Just the opposite, in fact. I've begun expanding my horizons, strengthening my skill set to include not just fiction, but the whole spectrum of the written word.

Will any of it pan out?

Who cares?

And that, too, is what this entry is all about. It's something that came up while Aaron and I were talking about everything that I've gone through the last few months. When I stopped writing thirteen years ago, I did it because, in the back of my mind, I knew I'd have another shot. When I started writing again eight months ago, I did it because I knew, in the back of my mind, that I would never have another shot. This was it. I'd pissed away thirteen years because I was afraid. That wasn't going to happen again. I didn't realize it at the time, but Aaron reminded me of it today. You write for yourself, he told me. In 1997, when I gave up the only dream I had, I'd forgotten. In 2010, when the dam burst, I suddenly remembered. I wasn't writing because I wanted everyone to like it (well, I do, but you know what I mean...I hope), I was writing because I loved it. And I missed it. I missed the pen gripped in my hand, the feel of the paper underneath, and the release I got from taking random thoughts in my head and transferring them through that pen onto that paper. I missed every single thing about it, and I knew that if I stopped this time, I'd never do it again. This is my only shot at a second chance, and I will never again forget why I'm doing it.

That's why I want the Utah job so badly. This is a chance to really get my hands dirty, so to speak. It's not only a chance to get on with my life and experience new things, it's a chance to get my voice heard in one of the coolest venues available. Do I ski or snowboard? Nope. But I'm dying to tell people how awesome it is learning at The Canyons Resort in Park City, Utah. I'm jazzed to show video of my clumsy ass falling over and over and over and over again while I learn. I'm stoked to a level I would have thought impossible ten years ago. But I'm not stopping there. The half-completed first draft of my first novel has been dug out of storage and is sitting next to me waiting to be resumed. I'm looking into writing competitions for the next three months, and I'm trying my hand at short story and mini-story writing. Add this blog to that list, and I've become a regular writing fanatic!

This is the next stage of my life, and I plan to make it count. I screwed up the first stage, and I thought the second stage was going to last longer than three years. It didn't, and not a day passes that I don't want that back. But I know it's gone for good, one way or another. No use looking back. Today, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. One last little stroke completed the picture that began eight months and one marriage ago. All I needed to help find it was a day spent with family.

Thank you, Aaron. You didn't help me see the light, but you helped me take the thoughts in my head and get them put into words. For a writer, that's what it's all about. Best of luck to you, bud.