A Hacker Remembered

Today's "hackers" can stake claim to this new moniker but I grew up observing my grandfather perfect the art of hacking.  Many among his generation might also argue that they too are the original hackers.  Survivors of The Great Depression, war time rationing, etc. set about up-cycling and inventing new uses for the ordinary, transforming how we viewed everyday objects.  Consumerism took a back seat to necessary reinvention and society as a whole profited from this outlook.

Post war times brought many back to the sales counter and my grandfather partook in the new gadgets as well.  He was the first to set up a television in the backwoods of his small community and he was an active ham radio participant.  I remember my grandmother railing at him for setting up huge antennas but it didn't stop him...he simply disguised them better or made sure the landscaping was up to her standards.

Many mornings I would see him walking alongside the road picking up litter that marred his property.  He didn't throw it all away; he kept a collection of vintage liquor bottles in one of his sheds as well as hub caps.  Long before there were "man caves," he built various sheds to hold his found treasures.  Waiting for the next great financial calamity was part of his generation's psyche...they truly felt the hunger and despair.  My generation has seen nothing like this and I can only hope that I nor my children ever will.

Often times, I tell people that I grew up in the area that was ground center for the "War on Poverty/Hunger" yet I did not go hungry nor want for necessities.  The lessons my grandparents learned were to save, to survive, to hack enough to keep clothes, food, and shelter in abundance for their families.  Even now, I tease my children that I'm headed back to the hills for an apocalypse.  It is ground zero for survival and I take pleasure in my own small hack jobs.

Young hackers who spend time on YouTube learning and teaching others, keep up the good work!  Past generations are counting on you to pay it forward, to survive, to persevere and hack on.

For Grandpa Clint, Happy Hacker's/Father's Day!  You live on in each project I pursue.

Shaken, not Stirred

Ah, the complexity of a martini or a life.

Ingredients, adornments and the mix-up...shaken or stirred.

Life's transitions can rise slowly, cresting river-like and afterwards,

A mess.

To be shaken seems harsher but then,

There is no surprise at the damage.  It is expected.

How then to choose, to proceed when mixing a martini or life?

What final taste will we experience?  Bitter?  Smooth?

A choice...

To gulp or to sip

And to melt away in its grip....

The Destination

I don't think there is a way to effectively share my new found definition of "destination" to my children.  At their stage of early adulthood, all paths are clouded with hormones and expectations.  Would it be that I could go back to myself at that stage, I would advise my erratic self to seek wisdom from those outside my immediate circle...away from parents. friends, lovers and toward experienced thinkers and doers.

My confidence was not developed enough to find those individuals.  I'm hopeful that my two ducklings aren't stunted with that malady.  Did I do enough to inspire them to be adventurous?  To trust their gut and mute the cautious naysayers...including myself at times?  Hopefully.

As a young person feeling trapped in Appalachia, I coveted the experiences of others who traveled and experienced new cultures.  I thought that the only way to share that was to leave behind my heritage.  Funny enough, when I moved from Kentucky 25 years ago, I felt only despair.  My love for novelty did not outweigh my need for HOME.  That first move taught me quickly that the only way to enjoy the world was to stay tethered to my upbringing.  Live and learn....

I take my Appalachian sensibilities with me everywhere.  All that I see and do, all who I meet and absorb are translated through my early life experiences...adventures that I was participating in without knowing they were rare and precious.  Now I know.  Now I appreciate.  Still I am part of my beloved Kentucky and still I am part of my beloved hills.

And so I do not have a set place to get to in life.  Instead, it is a feeling of peace, safety and a need for exploration that guides me.  The moves I had to participate in to keep my family together toughened my heart and challenged my soul.  All of the bonding and severing that takes place when one moves consistently changes a mindset.  I accept now that my life will be very fluid.  What I hold on to is the knowledge that houses are just a place for me to hang my hat...home is my heart filled with love for my family near and far and friends scattered about the country.

I take joy in present time, present experiences and I don't count on being anywhere for long.  I love and hate the moves simultaneously.  I covet and despise the unknown.  I am content in feeling my wings and roots.

The journey, NOT the destination is enough for me now.