All the world's a poker game.

I have discovered a passion for playing poker. I have been an occasional poker player for years usually playing seven card stud. As with everyone else I have watched the rise in the past 4-5 years, in popularity, of Texas Hold'em Poker. I play No Limit Texas Hold'em almost exclusively now. It is very easy, these days, to catch a poker tournament on a cable sports channel. It is fun watching these guys try and out maneuver each other to win the big pot at the end of the game. The last WSOP tournament had a final table jackpot of over twelve million dollars. Thatsa lotta dough. But, I digress.
The title of this piece is because having played a lot of poker, live and online, I have discovered that it in fact mirrors life quite a bit. You have winners and losers, you have fast players and slow ones, you have neophytes and professionals and you have the weekend players. For a long time, in life, I was a weekend player. My youth was easy, good cards came all the time and winning was fun. My early adulthood was easy as well, I met a lot of new players and formed good friendships with them. Life was good, but I wanted more. So, I found a mate. I was sure that my life was going to head straight for the final table with a huge pot at the end. After another 16 years of more or less weekend playing, I hit a losing streak to beat all losing streaks. Two of a kind (my ex and her boyfriend) beat my full house (my family). It went downhill from there. It has been a long painful journey down to the bottom. I reached it about a year ago. I landed back home with no money, no job, no family and no sense of self worth. After you hit the bottom, you sit there and wonder what the hell happened and why you are there. You go over every hand, in your mind, that you have ever played and try to figure out where you went wrong. Should I have sat at different table, raised more, folded more, played more, played less, found a different partner? You will analyse until your brain hurts, but you won't be able to figure it out. The reason is that you never will know what cards the other players unless you call them. And being a weekend player, I ususally backed down from a big bet. I figured it wasn't worth fighting for. I was wrong. It was worth fighting for.
I started back uphill after I got a job this year. It is a nice job. I enjoy the work I do and I like the people I work with and for. With child support, however, it will be a while before I can get my own place again. It is hard to start over again after you have lost it all to a better hand. It is hard to scrape up a stake to get back in the big game and try for the final table, again. I see the goal, but I can't get in the tournament right now. I have decided, though, that this time I am going to be professional player. I am going to play the game to win. I don't want to be that weekend player anymore. I want the bracelet.
I play a lot of online poker under the names alabamaslim and alabamaXslim, so if you see me on, say hello, but don't sit at the table unless you don't mind losing. I am keeping my eyes on the prize.
PS. Sometimes, the Queen of Hearts will hurt you too, boy.

You can go home again!

Well, I did anyway. I finally made a complete circle of life. I don't think it was the one I was supposed to make, but I did it anyway. I made a few wrong turns and wound up back home. It is a long and dreay story, so I am not going into any details. Suffice to say that I now live with me mum and spend my spare time looking for money or ways to make money or looking for change in the parking lot at the mall. (I found 39 cents last week!)
My ultimate advice to young people today is: Don't piss off your parents! Because one day, you just might end up back home and they will hold it over your head and give you such guilt trip that you will feel even worse than you do just for having to move back home. Leave home the first time with good feelings and good wishes left behind and they will still be there when you get back. (Sorry, had a Python moment.) I hope you never have to go back home, but I did not think I was going to have to either. More good advice: DON'T marry my ex-wife. She is a royal b*tch and you will end up back at home. That's all.

A simple act of kindness

I picked up my son, Jacob, the other day to take him to baseball practice. It was a Tuesday afternoon and the weather wasn't looking good. He was scheduled to play a practice game at a different park against a team he would not see in the regular season. It is a good practice activity for the teams. We arrived a few minutes ahead of the coach and walked to the field. I tossed him a few pop flies while we waited. The coach arrived and took control of the practice and started lining up players to go into the batting cage. Jacob went first and did well. On the short trip to the field, Jacob had told me that he thinks he is one of the better hitters on the team. I agreed knowing that no matter what the case was, all he wanted was a little confidence builder. More players arrived on both teams. Our team, the Cardinals, did some warm up drills and took some infield practice. I caught at home while another assistant coach hit balls to the infield. They looked good.
The coach of the other team, (I never found out the name) told coach that it was 5:30 pm and we needed to start the game as we only had the field until 6:30 pm. The other team was missing a few players still, so we agreed to let them bat first. As home team, it was their right to bat last. The coach handed out roster sheets to the assistant coaches and gave the team a pep talk. Jacob was going to play Right Field. I was outside the dugout and heard him tell the coach that he didn't like to play the out field. I moved over to where he was and told him to be quiet. I pointed out to him that later in the 5th and 6th innings he was scheduled to play 2nd Base and 1st Base, respectively. I told him that to play in the infield, you had to pay a few dues to the outfield first and prove to the coach that you could handle it. He shook his head and looked over the roster. The coach told the team to hit the field and the game was on!
The other team gained all of their members as the second in the line up was batting. They had some good hitters and we spent a few minutes learning where the coach wanted the ball played. After about 6 or 7 batters, they had three runs and we had the three outs. The team headed to the dugout to get ready to bat. Jacob was batting 9th on a ten member team. Since it was just a practice game, I knew that the batting order and the positions were changable at the coach's whim. The top of the order strode to the plate and started us off.
As we watched our team bat, Jacob came to the doorway of the dugout, where I was leaning against the railing and sat down on the coach's ball bucket. He started telling me that he wanted to pitch and was upset that he was not listed to pitch in this game. I asked him if he pitch in the previous practice game on Saturday. He said yes, then added, "But only 1 pitch!" a little sarcasticly. (I missed the game for some stupid reason. But that won't happen again!) He then started saying that it wasn't fair and that he was mad. I asked if it was fair that other boys didn't get to pitch in Saturday's game, but would get a chance to try it tonight. He said he didn't care he wanted to pitch tonight. He then went on and started something that it took me a moment to remember from last year:"I don't like baseball" "I don't want to play" "If I can't pitch then, I want to quit." Then he looked at me a said something that I got on to him about at once. He said, "The coach sucks!" Now, we were not talking loud. I was bent over and talking to him a calm, quiet voice. I was trying to be discreet and not let the other players hear him put down the coach or anything else. I was also protecting him. I did not want the other players to think that Jacob was a whiner all the time. Take it from me, he is not. He just sometimes gets into a negative mood. (I should have remembered this sooner, but I didn't.) I was getting a little upset at him and told him that if he didn't quit being this way, that I was going to leave. (Stupid Me!) He then asked me if I thought he was one of the better hitters on the team, I told him that yes I thought he was one of the better hitters. (See our previous discussion) He looked at me and said, "No I am not!" I asked him why he would say that. He just looked down and said I'm just not. I reminded him that is was my birthday and that all I wanted was a hit from him. I did not care if it was a home run or a single. I just wanted to see him hit.
At that moment, one of Jacob's team member's walked by and patted him on the shoulder and kept going. His name is Brayden. He looks the part and is a very good ball player. Jacob looked around at him. Brayden looked back at Jacob and said, "You can use my bat when it is your turn, Jacob." Jacob looked back at me and said "He has a nice bat." He reached down to get the bat. It was leaning against the rail, near the door. (All bats end up there, during the game.) He handed me the bat. It was a nice big barrel -10 bat. (I looked at it later in a sporting goods store. They wanted $229.00 for it. Nice Bat!)
I almost missed it. Jacob's attitude changed. It was positive, instantly. I told him to thank Brayden. He turned and thanked him. I talked to Jacob about the bat for a few more minutes and he told me that Brayden let him use it in the last practice game. I handed it back to Jacob and he held it in his hands and said "I want one like this." I told him I wish I could get him one, but that I didn't have enough money. (He hears that alot from me.) He got up to get ready to bat. He didn't make it that inning. He was in the hole when the other team got the third out. The coach yelled "hats and gloves, everybody!" The Cardinals took the field, again.
After 3 more outs, the team came in to bat. Jacob went to the plate with Brayden's bat held firmly in his hands.
That one little insignificant act of kindness turned Jacob's negative attitude around. I thanked Brayden myself later. I wanted him to know that I appreciated what he did. I don't if Brayden had overheard our conversation or not. I really don't know who did or didn't hear us talking. I was focused only on Jacob. I realized later that I was being negative also. So, Brayden's kindness turned two attitudes around. A simple word, a nice smile, a single act of kindness can work miracles. Brayden's simple gesture was a miracle that was needed and it came at exactly the right moment. The timimg could not have been more perfect. I am amazed that I was there to witness it. There a billions and billions of moments in man's lifetime. It is rare to remember many of them. I will remember this one for a long, long time.
If you see someone having a bad day or down on their luck, make a miracle happen. Share a little kindness. It will be repayed tenfold. Imagine what the world would be like if everyone did one act of kindness a day. The world would be a far, far better place.
Jacob got a hit and made it to first base. After a few more batters, he made it home and scored a run. The Cardinals won 8-6.

Miracles still happen, don't they?

I was wondering if anyone has seen any miracles lately. I haven't seen that many in the past couple of years, and I could use one now and again. Anybody?
I remember the first true miracle that I saw, that I recognized as a miracle in the fullest sense of the word. It was the birth of my first child, Calvin. The whole experience, up until the moment of birth just seems to pale compared to the moment of his arrival in this world. I was completely overwhelmed at that one moment in time. I had to step back or I would have fallen down. (Not fainted. Although, some of the sights are not for the faint of heart.) I looked down at this new born baby and knew in an instance that I did not have a clue about anything at all. I always thought I was somewhat smart, not smug smart, just well read on a lot of subjects. (I love to read and watch documentaries.) I felt like a complete numbskull at that moment. I was dumbfounded and probably still am. There was nothing to think, say or do. Just watch as the miracle happened. It stills affect me today just thinking about it and it was over 13 years ago. Man, what a sight!
I have witnessed a total of three such miracles. All with just as much anticipation and all equally wonderful to witness. Nothing at all compares to what I witnessed. And to make it even more special, they were all my sons. I know I will never witness such a miracle again. I am divorced now and a little bit older than when I first started a family. I am not upset at the thought of this, but a little bit saddened at the thought of never again feeling and seeing and living a genuine miracle.
There are of course other types of miracles and people witness them all them time. A loved one survives a nasty accident or a family nearly homeless gets help. Miracles don't have to involve a Saint or a sighting of Mary. I wish there was a news channel that reported good news and miraculous happenings. It wouldn't sell anyway. As the news editors say, "If it bleeds, it leads." Maybe a miracle website? Anyone could post a miraculous event in their life to the site and others could read it and gain hope in their daily lives. I think I am a too optimistic sometimes, but I could use a miracle once in a while.

The Blessing

Here is the blessing blog I promised earlier.

Not too long after I was unceremoniously discharged from my first and only marriage, I began to realize that I would no longer be "there" for my children. My ex says that I can have them anytime I want them, but when I tell her I want them everyday for the next six months, she stutters and stammers and says uh, no. So, I tell her that she is lying when she tells me that I can have them anytime I want. I longed for some way to give them and me, comfort, while they were with her. I frequent bookstores frequently. I could spend days in a bookstore, but they close the doors at 11:00 pm and always ask me to leave, so I do. While I was perusing the self help section one day, I came across a small volume entitled, Blessing Your Children by Jack Hayford. I bought it on instinct and am glad I did. It is a excellant little tome, filled will biblical references, but I wanted a children's blessing. In the book, the pastor tells of his young family and finding and using a blessing for his children. He says that when he was out of town and called home, he always blessed them before he hung up. He blessed them every night. He says that when his children got older and moved out on their own, they would call and get a blessing from him every day. I read this part of the book with great interest and emotion. I know that God is always with me. I know he is there watching me at every turn. I know that he protects me always. I have always known this and it is always in the back of my mind. I don't worry much because of this ever present thought. I wanted to express this to my children. I wanted them to know without a doubt that they were always being watched over, since I could no longer be "there" for them. So, I skipped some of the good pastor's book and cut to the chase. I found what he was talking about and what I needed to help me. It was a simple little blessing from the Bible, Numbers 6:24-26. I had said it many times when we went to church as a family. Every new child presented during the service was blessed in an abbreviated form of the same blessing. Here is the form I use:

May the lord bless and keep you,
May he make his face to shine upon you,
and be gracious unto you.
May he lift up his countenance to you,
and give you peace.
In the name of the father, son and holy ghost, Amen.

Always add the child's name to the end of the first sentence, where I put the comma. And I always end it with the last sentence. I am not catholic, but I bless my children in name of the trinity. It is easy to learn and easy to say. I have blessed a number of adults also. They look at me kinda strange when I ask to bless them, but so far only one person has said no. It was you know who, after the divorce. My children ask me to bless them when they think I have forgotten to do so at bedtime. I may be tired and sleepy, but I never forget. And anytime I call them on the phone at their mother's house, I always bless them all before I hang up. I know that God hears the blessing and I feel comforted knowing that he is looking after them for me.
From a father to any parent who will listen: Bless your children everyday and thank God above that he has given you the greatest treasure mankind can surely know.

Jacob's Song

I had one of those horrendous, "Oh my God! What do I do?" parenting moments a couple of weeks ago. I was lying in bed with Jacob and Keith as they were going to sleep. I always lay down with them. I get to hold them a while before they fall asleep. I also get to bless them. I do that everynight and every morning before they go to school, when they stay with me. (The blessing will be another blog.)
As, I was drifting off, the one song on the CD player was ending and another starting up. Calvin had made the CD earlier in the day on his PC. I kinda half listened in a dreamy state to the song. It was familiar, but I didn't know the words to it and I was more interested in the insides of my eyelids. After a few more moments of the song playing, Jacob stirred next to me and turned his head toward me and said, "That's my song. That's the song about me." I didn't understand what he meant, but I suddenly became much more interested it the song lyrics. I listened for a minute or two and felt this deep wave of sadness wash over me. The song was so awful. (Not in a bad way about the lyrics being filthy or the band sucky.) I am going to post a few lines from the song here, so that you understand what I heard.

Welcome To My Life by Simple Plan

Do you wanna be somebody else?

Are you sick of feeling so left out?

Are you desperate to find something more?

Before your life is over

Are you stuck inside a world you hate?

Are you sick of everyone around?

With their big fake smiles and stupid lies

While deep inside you're bleeding

No you don't know what it's like

When nothing feels all right

You don't know what it's like

To be like me

To be hurt

To feel lost

To be left out in the dark

To be kicked when you're down

To feel like you've been pushed around

To be on the edge of breaking down

And no one's there to save you

No you don't know what it's like

Welcome to my life.

I hurt so much inside after listening to that song, but I had to be strong for Jacob and not show it. I turned toward him and asked him about one of the lines. I asked him if he really hated the world. He hesitated and then replied softly no. I asked him what was wrong. I realized this was the first I had heard Jacob say anything like what I was hearing, it was very painful to think about. He started to say something and then stopped. I asked how he felt. He started to say something again. He said I feel... I finished it for him and said, different? He said yes. I knew I had to say something very profound at this moment to help him. I could tell this was one of those critical times in a child's life where they need much love, understanding and reassurance. I moved over to him and held him in my arms from behind and put my mouth near his ear and told him all about what being different was all about. I told him all the things I knew about being a unique individual in this world. I explained that God made each person on earth different from everyone else on earth for a reason. I told him it would be a very boring place if we were all alike. I told him to celebrate difference. I said things, that I can't even now, only two weeks later, remember. I know God put the perfect words in my mouth because one of his children was hurting inside and he needed to help. I remember that after I finished talking Jacob turned to face me and was wiping tears from his eyes. But, so was I. I hugged him long and tight and said I loved him very much and I felt myself begin to lose control. I release him and mumbled something about washing clothes for school tomorrow. I got up and left the room. I managed to make it downstairs before I burst into tears. I immediately jumped on the internet to find the lyrics for the song to read it for myself. I found the song on Calvin's PC and listened to it while I searched. I was crying the whole time. I found the lyrics and read them and just hung my head in shame and shock. I could not understand how a nine year old child could understand and identify with them. This was my sweet innocent child and now he was hurting inside. I had already realized that Jacob was like me. When I was young they call it "having a big heart." I knew life was going to be a little more difficult for him.
We "big hearted" people are a little more sensitive then other people. Some insecure idiots try to say that sensitive men are homosexual. Well, I can assure you of one thing. Not this man. I am 110 percent straight. I always will be. And none of my boys will be homosexuals either. They are going to be brought up by a real man and father who will show them that being a man does not mean you have to be a prick. A real man cries when he is in pain, emotionally. Physical pain is a different area. A real man can show emotion without fear. A real man knows that emotions are a very important part of life. You can't have exquisite ecstasy without tremendous sadness. So, when I feel tremendous sadness, I cry. But, when I feel exquisite ecstasy, oh baby!
I will never be able to think of that night or hear that song without breaking down. I talk more to Jacob when he is at my house. I ask him how he is doing and how he his feeling. I still get the same response I got before that night. Fine, Fine. But, I stay longer now and always hug him longer. I now make him look me in the eye before he walks away. I do this to make sure that he can see that I am here with him and love him. I also want him to know that someone else with a big heart knows exactly what he feels. I know that I will have to teach him a little differently than I his brothers, but then again, as I told him, he is different from his brothers.

Vive la Différence!!

Meet the Boys

You no doubt have read all of my wonderful posts by now and are breathlessly waiting for more magic from my fingertips. Well, it is now time for a happy post. I took a break from blogging and now I am back. I hope to stay awhile. (If I start to wander off, grab me and hold me here. Thanks!)
So, you have read a little about my wonderful boys and now you get to see them.

This is Calvin.

Calvin 

This is Jacob.

Jacob 

This is Keith.

Keith 

These are my boys. My one and only reason for living. (Well, three reasons.) If everyone had reasons like these to live, the world would be the happiest place ever.

Why is it that I can't trust anyone?

As you have no doubt learned by reading my previous posts, [At this point in the story, our writer looks away from the computer screen. While his head is turned, if you have not read all 3 of his previous posts, you should do so. You can do it quickly and he will never know.] I have had some personal bombshells dropped into my life in the past 3 years. I have dealt with these problems in a very human and fairly dignified manor. I have cried, screamed, run screaming, thrown things at walls, run with sharp scissors, rended my shirt, thrown a temper tantrum and I threw all my toys into the front yard. So, I dealt with it the best I could. I am much better now. I don't ever rend cloth, anymore. Anyway...
Why is trust so elusive? Why is it that I can't trust anyone? Why does it seem like there are so many more dishonest people in the world today? (And don't worry, this is not another "Honesty Blog") I have met so many different people in the past three years. People, that I know, I would never have met in my former life. But, why is it that I can't trust any of them?
I keep getting taught this same lesson over and over again. [Don't Trust Anyone!] I have had numerous occasions to trust new people I have been introduced to and almost 90% of the time, they are just another chapter in the lesson.
See, I give everyone 100% trust the moment I meet them for the first time. I don't know why, it was the way I was raised or something I ate earlier. Anyway, I do that for everyone. I give them trust, they steal stuff from me. In some weird little corner of the universe, this balances out. (I think, I am just guessing. I can't bring myself to consider the alternative that I am just very naive. Nah.) So, I trust them, they take what they want and we part ways. I go away with more trust homework and they get movies, music, money, credit cards, whatever they find laying the house. Maybe, just maybe, I will eventually learn that tough lesson, but the world will be a little colder place when I graduate.

It only takes one.

Yes, that's right folks! Step right up and see the man of the hour. Don't get to close though! He is relic in today's' world. Yes sirree! He is a dinosaur of the worse kind. The kind that is extinct and does not know it. His kind of gentlemanly manners and courteous ways are for another era, another time, another life. One day, he will get the idea and extinct himself.
In today's world, if you want to get along and get up in the world, you need to be able to steal candy from a baby and make the baby think you are doing him a favor. You should be able to sell ice cubes to Eskimos and make them think that ice is something new and wonderful. You have to be able to look someone in the eye and lie through your teeth. I have seen some academy award performances, much to my chagrin. It should not be like this, but it is.
Why? I do not know. I have been in a position for the last year and 9 odd months to study a whole new class of people. A class of people that, up until my ex-wife threw me away, I, thankfully, had no knowledge of at all. The people will steal from anyone, at anytime and for any reason and sometimes, for no reason at all. I can not understand them. I have tried. It is like some foreign sub culture. Not that they are from other countries, mind you, just that their way of thinking and doing is, well, f*cked up.
I have a lot of new friends, now, some good, some bad, some indifferent. Each of them actually has some redeeming qualities, but for some reason, they refuse to use them. They would rather be just on the other side of right and just and good. They prefer to play the "game." I keep telling them, it is not a game. This is life and death. The winners stay alive to see another day and the losers do not.
In another life, I thought I was a winner. I was a full time father and husband. I loved my spouse and I loved my children. I worked full time. I helped with the housework and the kids. I did all of the things I thought I was supposed to do as a husband and father. I did not cheat on her. I did not spend every weekend out with the guy's or away from home. I knew in my mind's eye that I was going to be in that life until I was called home. My spouse had other ideas. After 16 years of knowing her and 13 years of marriage, she decided she was done with me. At lunch one day, two years ago this October, she looked right past me with a blank expression on her face and said, "I can't live like this anymore." My happy little world ended with that one simple sentence. She could have just as easily put a pistol to my head and pulled the trigger. The result was the same.
It only takes one. It only takes one person to end another person's life or change it forever. Whether by violence or verbal expression. It only took one person to take away everything I ever wanted in life. I am dealing with it much better these days. Early on, I could have used the pistol myself. I did not. (Obviously) My therapist said to me, "Why not stick around and see how it all turns out?" I could not think of a good reason not to, so I stayed. I did, however, have the very best of reasons to stay, and that was my children. I live for them, now. I will be there for them, always. And I will teach them how to be gentlemen. They deserve that. Ladies, chivalry is not dead! As a matter of fact, it is doing quite well. Look for a true gentleman and you will never be disappointed.

Nice guys finish last?

I want to apologize up front, I am a little drunk right now. I can still think though.Why? Why is it that nice finish last and gap-tooth MFs get all the girls? I can treat a girl like a queen and get ignored all the time. Those aforementioned gap-tooth MFs can treat them like sh*t and they can't get enough! Why? What is the problem with all the young ladies of today? Do they like and desire to be treated like sh*t? I was raised that you treat a lady like a lady. I should have been raised to treat a lady like sh*t and I would have them standing in line. Why? What is the f"ing deal? Am I supposed to ignore decades of gentlemanly training. I was born and raised a gentleman. These days if you are kind and nice to everyone, you get criticized for being weak. Well, young ladies, don't mistake kindness for weakness, it will burn you. I am kind and nice, but you had better not believe that I am weak. I am not! I will always treat you the way a gentleman should, it is up to you if you can handle it or not. Look up, gentleman are waiting to treat you like a lady.