I take a shit ton of grief for being an open book.
Most guys my age are told to keep their pie hole shut, let life roll on quietly, and stop making a public spectacle of your thoughts.
But these Chalkboards, this thing I have built called Chalkhead Nation, it is proof that running my mouth has done more good than harm. It has helped me find my tribe. It has given me a voice in a world that has gotten too damn quiet.
Last night, I was on my balcony overlooking what I lovingly call the Divorced Dad District of Riverside, Illinois. Two Manhattans deep, thinking about life’s stages, and I was about to pour a third until I heard, “Dad, you promised to make me popcorn tonight.”
That was George, my daily anchor. My reminder that no matter how rough the wind blows, I still have something solid that keeps me grounded.
I put on Bob Seger and sat there listening to Against the Wind. I started thinking about this current stage that I am in, the Riverside years.
It is where the next act of my life began after the curtain dropped on my marriage. It is where I brought the ShepKids into the light and tried to balance fatherhood, the loss of my parents and the last stretch of my career.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped auditioning new characters and friendships faded. I got quiet and somehow became an introvert who only jumps through hoops if it’s for the ShepKids or Futures International.
That is my current cast right now.
I have dated a few times since the divorce; women who have never married, women who lost someone, and women who have walked through hell like me. Most of them moved on to a successful chapter. Maybe my purpose was to be that stepping stone?
The truth is, I have never been fully there. My mind drifts to work or the ShepKids or whatever is next on the agenda. I have realized something hard: I don’t have the strength to hold a woman’s heart the way it deserves to be held. Maybe it is cowardice, maybe it is self-preservation, but it’s my truth. For now, Hazel can tug at my heart, George steadies it and Fritz is the glue that keeps our dysfunctional family together.
And yeah, maybe that knocks me out of the dating pool.
So be it, I will take peace and purpose over pretending. My hindsight might thank me someday for knowing my limits.
The last few weeks, I have been helping rebuild a family member’s life. It’s been heavy, but there’s a weird beauty in crisis; sometimes when the shit hits the fan, positive things grab the mop and start cleaning it up. I even managed to co-parent with someone I once thought impossible to deal with. Turns out two stubborn mules can pull in the same direction when it really matters.
I’m getting older, no doubt about it, but the fire is still there. I have lost some players along the way, benched a few I probably shouldn’t have, and picked up one or two late-round draft picks that shocked the hell out of me.
That is life, the roster is always changing.
Maybe I do talk too much. Homeboy, I never shut up.
But if one Chalkhead out there reads this and realizes they are not alone...
...that there is still gas in the tank and still wind to run against. Then my job here is done.
So, on this Sweetest Day, raise a glass, hug your people, and don’t be afraid to be an open book. The world needs more honesty, not less. Let’s keep running against the wind, together
