Beyond Wonderful

Entry 1:

Oh boy! Am I grateful! Words can’t convey how grateful I am. Who would believe the over-flowing, Olympic sized pool of…? ‘Gratitude’ doesn’t even describe it.

This is the first entry of my required ‘Gratitude Journal.’ I’m already thrilled to express how utterly grateful I am for so many things in my godforsaken life. Let me count the ways…

For instance, I’m grateful I no longer have my family to worry about. They were such a drag. Always nosing into my business, where they didn’t belong. I’m alone. I feel so liberated, I could sing!

Now I see how this could be a great project. At first, keeping this journal looked like busy work. You know, writing a bunch of Pollyanna BS to meet the requirements of this probation I got hooked into. What a waste. That judge!

A hundred meetings in a hundred days? Who has time for that? I’ve gotta life, man. Guess I’ll have to fit it into my busy schedule.

I’m grateful to him for this opportunity. After all, he gave me a choice and I thought this might be a novelty instead of the tried and true routine of jail. Steep price for a measly three squares. You know, if you can’t do the time…

See, Miles? I get it.

Entry 2:

Miles, my group leader, told me I won’t get anything from the practice if I don’t take it seriously.

Yes, Miles, I know you read this. And I’m talking about you. Isn’t gratitude partly about telling the truth? I’m grateful that I can recognize it and speak to it.

Yeah. Grateful. That’s what I am.

I insist that I’m serious. Miles thought I wasn’t listening. Talk to the snorers if you want to make that point.

He said, “You didn’t lose your family.”

I nodded and said, “Not in a literal sense. No.” He gave me a weird look, so, I added, “No. But it would be a blessing if I did.  They’re such a drag.”

“Well, you’re supposed to be expressing your true gratitude, Jonah. Look into yourself for the truth. That’s how it works.”

I asked him, “If I’m supposed to make up who I’m grateful to, why can’t I make up what I’m grateful for?”

He gave me a hard look and said, “You don’t get it. Do the program.”

I know you read this, Miles. Isn’t that what I said? Tell me it’s not.

Just so you know. I get it. You think you get it but I get it better than you. I’m grateful for that. Keep reading.

About my missing family, I celebrate my lack of responsibilities. Once burdened with no time to myself, I now am shunned by all who knew me. Disowned by friends and family. I’m neither welcome in their houses nor acknowledged as an acquaintance.

Strangers cross the street to avoid crossing my path. Mothers scold their children, telling them not to stare. I’m become a target of ridicule. A nonentity. Like a shadow, cast by no one and by nothing. Alone.

And I’m free.

So, Miles, you’ll be happy to know this journal will be filled with gratitude with a capital ‘tude. It will be gratitudinal. It will drip with so much appreciation that you’ll have to read it with goggles and gloves on. You’ll be grateful the pages don’t stick together with the excess. Just wait. Read on. You might learn something. I’d be grateful for that.

Entry #3:

Here you go. I was driving the other day and got pulled over by a cop. He said I was speeding. I didn’t feel it. Maybe I was. Not for me to say. Guy with a gun makes the rules.

So, he gave me a ticket.

I thanked him. Politely. He didn’t expect that. Made my day to mix it up a bit. Challenged his preconceptions, don’t you know?

I got a kick out of showing my gratitude for his wasting my time and picking my pocket. I didn’t say all that, but he knew. It’s his job. And he checked off all the boxes. I know he heard me because the look he gave me. Bet he never heard that before.

Carry on, officer Stoat. Have an extra serving. On me. I’m grateful.

Day 4:

Miles wanted to help. What a guy. He gave me a list of things needing gratitude. Thought I was unclear on the concept, or something. I may tag a few of these as I go. If for no other reason but to let Miles know I read the damn thing.

Thanks, Miles. Grateful for all the support.

Things needing gratitude, for instance…

·        The ho and donor who gave me life – speaking of mistakes, we’ll have to discuss my alleged gratitude when I find you.

That said, I get that I should rejoice about it. Being alive lets me appreciate pain. When I’m dead, the pain will stop but so will any pleasure.

Don’t understand much but am grateful to know that. Animals die unaware.

Dust to dust. Why I don’t like people touching me with their dusty fingers. ‘Salt of the earth’ should be ‘dust of the earth.’ That’s what everything turns to. No one puts dirt on their fries.

Makes sense to be grateful for both gains and losses. Tell me which is which?

·        Artists creating beauty for others – someday I’ll join the NBA and be one of them. At the top.

There’s more. But I don’t want to go crazy spending all the gratitude in one spot.

#5-

A couple items from Miles’ list of things I’m supposed to be thankful for…

·        Language – a bottomless source of misunderstanding and shame… People talk too much. Say too little.

·        Reading – have to try it someday.

Before I dropped out, Mr. Dickhead, the high school detention monitor, gave me a book to read by some French dude. Called ‘The Little Putz,’ I think.

Am grateful for the chance to catch up on my sleep.

#6

Another:             

·        Favorite quote – “Get out!”

Words to live by. Always heard it. Punch line of my life. Always makes me laugh. So many memories come with those words hurled at me.

·        Hot showers – Can’t argue with that.

·        My favorite place to recharge – under the 3^rd Street Bridge. Good times there. Always!

·        Sex – yeah!

7

Another…

·        Changing my life with a change in attitude – get back to you on that, Miles.

All this discussion about change sounds like the same ol’ same ol’. What’s the point? What’s in it for me? Still awaiting an answer.

Don’t get it. If I don’t watch out for numero uno, who will? I’m sure a pamphlet on a bus bench has answers for everything. But as I said a few entries back, I’m not a stiff. Too busy to read.

Thankful I’m not wise, else I’d be accountable for my actions. That may be partly why I’m trapped doing this journal and other boring stuff.

How am I doing, Miles?

-8---

More…

·        Observing and learning from other’s mistakes – big on that.

Some fish have too much cash. Happy to hold the net.

Always grateful for the ability to get more money. Cha-ching!   

·        Friends I can count on - Shiv owes me a $100. Be grateful if he paid me.

Something happened the other day. I’d just jacked some cash when this woman, she looked homeless, came up to panhandle. Seen her around. Feeling flush, I pulled out a twenty.

She swiped it and gushed, “You’re beyond wonderful.”

Her flashing eyes and the way she said it, reminded me of Shelby, a girl I knew years ago. Like yesterday.

I said, “Hey!”

She ran away, giggling to her friends, to riff about her ‘find.’ I was too shocked to say more.

Shelby said that exact thing the same way, back then. Our running gag.

Always wondered about her. What happened? Never knew. Used to be close.

Last time we were together, Shelby said, ‘You’re beyond wonderful.’ About some little thing. She drew the ‘beyond’ out, like it was sailing off into the distance.

I joked, ‘Beyond? Like, too far?’

‘Yeah, need to know when to stop. All that wonderful got left behind you, in your dust.’

I asked, ‘Is it too late? Like out of reach?’

She said ‘Look back and squint. Hard to see if the light isn’t right.’

Still playing I turned and leaned forward. ‘Blinking neon?’

‘Yeah, the exit sign. ‘Wonderful, next right.’’

‘Has a rest area.’

‘And a wonderful parking lot.’

I never forgot any of that and laughing together. Last time I saw her. Never said good-bye. Alone ever since.

What happened? What split us? Was it me? Fixable after all this time?

Handing this one a twenty, the way she said it, it had to be her.

There with friends, drooling over a $20 bill.

My Shelby.

Grateful to know she’s okay. Should’ve said something.

Nine

In our group session, Miles covered the difference between ‘excitement’ and ‘happiness.’

He said excitement has more in common with the agitation gained with a shot of adrenalin. While happiness or joy lives in peace.

He said excitement is the other side of the coin from fear. Same coin. I’d never heard such before.

I’ve spent so much time wanting the next thrill, skipping the next roller coaster ride seems wasteful. Who leaves tickets unspent? What else can you do?

Realize my peace is with Shelby.

-10-

Miles, I’m still thinking about Shelby.

Got enough to feed us both. Going to find her.

Hope we’ll cross paths. Who knows? Might be wonderful.

I’d be thankful for that.

Don’t worry. I’ll let you know where it leads.

Know you’ll think I’m not doing the program. But that’s not it.

I found my gratitude and am claiming it. Committed to changing my life.

If I can’t find Shelby, I’ll be back. Right? The judge will get it. Is there no latitude for gratitude?

Does ‘doing the program’ mean giving up on the dream once it’s found? The point’s to find my gratitude. Or is it to fill some mundane meetings requirement while my gratitude languishes like a beached whale?

I know you get it, Miles. Thanks!

Peace out, brother.