Right Where I’m Meant to Be

11 11 2015
Time to be where you are.

Time to be where you are.

I had a great weekend for comedy.

I was not with my kids and, as much as I joke about them in my writing, I always deal with a little depression when they are not around me for an extended (24 hour) period of time. The distraction of 3 comedy shows, friends and family this past weekend helped me rid of those feelings, if only temporarily.

Not only was each show better than the last for me as a growing comedian, but also I found that I continue to have a lot to be grateful for – friends and colleagues in the comedy community who continue to bring me along and recommend me, high school friends who came out to see me after such a long period of time since high school that I could not have ever imagined, parents who support this crazy thing I am doing and kids who continue to be resilient, not to mention healthy, during these formative years.

At one of my shows in CT this weekend, it really hit me. I sat at a table of friends from high school and at that small table, we represented a wide spectrum of the human experience. Out of respect for my friends, I will leave out the details but suffice it to say that none of it mattered and that was a beautiful thing for me. In an environment where I find myself often the odd man out, it was so refreshing to have no corners or boundaries by which we were trying to fit into. Sitting at that table represented what I love so much about those friends I have made in the comedy community, as well.

Something that one of my friends said toward the end of the night really struck me. She said something to the effect that she looks outside each day and thinks about how beautiful that day is and how she wants to dance and live and really live life while she still can and for as long as she can.

This is not a fly-by-your-seat person. She has a family she is close to, as well as friends and basically been working full time forever. You get the point. It was not an easy journey for her but she is not even close to done. I loved that. There was no excuse. 

It’s like looking in the mirror and realizing that you’re not the 17 year old who just had all this passion to do big things. That never goes away – at least not for me. The challenge is to understand that our responsibility as friends, partners, sons, brothers, sisters, daughters, parents, grandparents, etc does not bury that 17 year old driven to do big things. Failure doesn’t have to be a fear. It can be an innocent bystander along the way and then you move on. It’s all how we look at it.

More than ever in the past 20 years, I have no clue what things will look like for me next year at this time but I do know that it’s not a question anymore of better or worse. It is simply a question of how quickly it will take me to realize that I am exactly where I am supposed to be at that very moment…sort of like right now.

Until next time, 

Marc

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My Grandpa’s 100th Birthday.

28 06 2015
Me and my grandpa.

Me and my grandpa.

Today would have been the 100th birthday of my grandfather.
He passed away almost 21 years ago but I can say that I still think about him almost every day.
This is a man who never went to school beyond the 8th grade, having been pulled away from school to work on the farm and then, himself, worked harder than anyone I probably ever had known.
He was a great grandfather. He wasn’t a 21st century grandfather like you would see today, perhaps, but in his own quiet way, you knew he loved you. He was no nonsense but not in a self-righteous way. He was simple but not dumb in any respect. He was old-world and strict and yet open minded for someone of his generation.
I have been thinking about him a lot today. The world that exists today is greatly different politically, environmentally, socially and financially than the one he left in 1994 and how would he make sense of it – this man who cranked up his first automobile and drove a school bus after retiring from the farm?
While I would not want him to endure his grandson going through a divorce, as I know it would pain him greatly, I would be willing to have him live through that if it meant the opportunity to meet his grandchildren, one of whom he is named for. That would be a real hoot. I can see his wide, dentured smile now laughing at some of the shit that comes out my 14 year old and the rosiness of his cheeks that was prominent around pretty ladies, like my daughter. I picture him reaching for a plastic bag full of Brach candies to offer them to my kids. (It’s funny what you remember.)
It is easy to lose your way on the journey to and during adulthood. I can’t figure it out. I am really struggling right now – but I am ok with it. It is exactly where I need to be and there are lessons that still await me. My grandfather was never affected by what did not concern him. He was a family man through and through – not necessary easy, not necessarily “enlightened”, not necessarily progressive but reliable, true, honest and forthright. These qualities are sorely missing in our ego driven world where it is as much around perception as it is around authenticity. I don’t know that I can live up to that standard myself but am willing to try.
He was not without his struggles, of which I will never really know as there are walls that remain between child and adult either for the sake of the child or the sake of the adult. However, I can tune into those frequencies better now of what they may be as many might be my own today.
100 years old. That would be something.
I remember his funeral on October 6 in New York state. It was the most beautiful, peaceful autumn day. The light from the sun was crisp – the type of yellow hue that is captured in a painting and was accentuated by the calmest winds and it smelled like fresh autumn leaves. I knew that for all his illness, he was at peace.
He came to me a few days later in what was more than a dream. For those of you who have had dreams that were beyond “seeming so real” but yet unexplainable, you will know what I mean.
I never told too many people about it but it was so vivid that I knew it was not just a dream.
I was looking into a mirror that he and my grandmother had in their hallway when I saw my grandfather walk up behind me. But he was not the grandfather who had grown so frail over the past few years. Rather, it was the heavier, mafioso looking guy with salt and pepper mustache and wavy thick hair, shirt with pocket that always held his eyeglasses case, big belt and slacks.
I was incredibly startled to see him, having just buried him.
He was standing behind me and had a wide grin laughing at me as if had just pulled off the best episode of “Punked” that ever existed.
And then, he was gone and I woke up in my bed.
There was a hazy transition from sleep to wake state and I stared at the top of my bureau with my alarm clock.
I knew he was ok.
Happy Birthday Grandpa. Until next time….
Love, Marc
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