I have told my siblings for years,
for years :
Be where you need to be.
Even if we go through periods of being geographically distant from one another, I would rather have physical distance than emotionally distance.
The two don't have to be related. Geographic distance with emotional distance. But you gotta fight, ya gotta fight for what's important. A little fight goes a long ways.
Of course there's a certain amount - a lot - that you lose with not seeing someone regularly. But I would rather support people I care about being where they need to be and doing what they need to do, even if it means giving them up, then have them stay geographically close just to stay safe and secure.
But man, man, man oh man it's hard some days.
Some days, some days are just harder than others when you miss someone.
That's circa 1994. Jonny's bigger and buffer and smarter and a whole long ways away now.
But we are still connected.
Forever.
Showing posts with label Jonny L. Long. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jonny L. Long. Show all posts
4.18.2019
11.07.2018
A WEDNESDAY : SO MANY MEETINGS.
Prologue.
People who know stuff about things say it's good to make lists and to state, in writing, what's important in terms of accomplishment for the day ahead.
I'm needed. Somewhere. My hiding place isn't good enough.
Chapter 2.
What's your day looking like?
I ask,
as I peer at the bearded face on the screen while I spoon coffee into a French press for rebrew. Or re-rebrew.
He tells me. There are meetings and performance reviews, photo shoots and logistics planning, equipment checks and personnel protocols.
What's your day looking like?
he asks.
Oh,
I say.
Meetings, a lot of meetings about different stuff, and maybe I'll make some lunch sometime, if I can find food. I'm gonna go reheat some coffee now. Good luck with your stuff.
Thanks,
he says.
Good luck with your meetings.
Love you.
I say.
Love you.
he says.
If I'm not in a meeting,
I say,
I'l call you in five minutes.
But I am, so I can't.
So many today.
Chapter 3.
What are you doing?
I ask the littlest one, I think he's not even two yet.
Why are you standing outside your brother's room with a pencil stuck in the door handle?
Brina.
he says.
("Brina" is what he calls his brother; a derivation of "Johannes" and "brother." Perhaps?)
Are you trying to pick the lock to his room?
I ask sternly.
Uh-uh.
he says continuing to fiddle with it, failing.
I am proud of you for your resourcefulness...
I say, raising my voice so it will carry throughout the house for the next part.
...and this is a reminder to your older siblings that you will try and copy everything they do. Including picking locks.
Brina.
he says.
I'm gonna help you out a tiny bit,
I say, roughly yanking the pencil out of the lock.
I open the door.
No!!!!!
his older brother shrieks.
This is my room!
It's his room too,
I remind him.
Well, I was here first.
he says.
You guys work it out,
I say as I shove the youngest one in and pull the door shut behind me.
I'll be back in a while. Gotta cup of warm coffee to reheat. And then we'll have a meeting to discuss this incident.
Chapter 4.
Do people actually vote for him?
Magdelana asks as the video ends.
Yes.
I say, putting my phone away as we close out the meeting at which we discussed the previous evening's election results.
People actually voted for Brian Kemp. And now it looks like he's going to be the next governor of Georgia.
You mean he won?
Yep.
I say.
As of last night, looks like it.
But he was pointing a gun at a teenager in the video!
Yeah,
I say.
Some people think those things are funny. And some fathers don't know how to have good conversations with their daughters, so they make up for it by trying to act all tough and wave guns around and act like girls are precious little dolls that are going to get broken unless they jump in and threaten boys with a gun.
Okay...
she says.
But he was also driving around in a big truck and saying he's going to get illegal immigrants...and people still voted for him?
Yeah,
I say.
Many of the same people who voted for Donald Trump.
I do not think Brian Kemp should be a governor.
she says.
Amen.
I say.
Meeting adjourned.
Chapter 5.
One of you is going to take a nap,
I order the class.
And the other two are going to sit in on a meeting of how the Dutch, French, and English colonized the Americas. I will be leading the meeting.
What about the Spanish?
one says.
We're done with them.
I say.
There's a section I wanna get to before Thanksgiving. Who remembers the second permanent English settlement in the Americas?
Jamestown?
one says semi-excitedly.
Wrong.
I say.
That was the first. Think harder. Remember, we're in the 1600s now.
They think harder, but they fail.
Plymouth.
I sigh.
Plymouth was the second permanent English settlement. They came for what reason?
Gold?
one says.
No!
I say.
How can you not remember this?
I berate them viciously before returning to the topic at hand: religious freedom.
Because,
I scream at them to make sure they remember,
PEOPLE SHOULD BE FREE FROM PERSECUTION!
Chapter 6.
Do whatever you want,
I say.
But put back whatever you get out. And don't get injured badly. Understand?
Uh-huh!
he meets my expectations with cheerful eye contact and agreement, and
heads off to practice going down the slide backwards while holding a fistful of freshly-sharpened colored pencils in each hand.
As a treat,
I yell as he tumbles down,
if you don't get hurt too badly and don't get any poop or blood on the couch or carpet or clothes, then maybe I'll let you use one of my typewriters later!
Chapter 7. A meeting of nebulas.
If you can tell me,
I announced,
what happens when a cloud of gas and dust are floating around in space, and gravity starts pulling them together and pretty soon the core is super hot and there's two types of a certain molecule starting to fuse together...if you can tell me what they're called, then I'll cancel the rest of the meeting.
What was the question again?
one says.
Hydrogen.
I say smugly.
Hydrogen atoms. Two hydrogen atoms slam fuse together and form helium, and this reaction at the core is what provides the outward pressure to hold off gravity and keep a star stable for as long as it's alive, which may be somewhere between a million and ten billion years.
You didn't even let us try answering!
they complain.
Well, you should have been more prepared for the meeting,
I say confidently as I smoothly segue to the next point.
Like a star getting ready to die. What happens when the hydrogen goes bye-bye?
More fusion?
one guesses.
NO!
I scream.
Now the star is dying! But how gloriously it's dying! Don't come to a meeting unprepared next time!
Chapter 8.
Daddy!!!!
someone screamed.
There's poop on the floor!
See: Prologue, Number 2. Pun intended.
Chapter 9.
We are going to have a little chat.
I announce.
I told my brother I had meetings, plural, so we need to have at least a couple so he doesn't find out I made it up to sound important. So we are going to have another meeting.
Can we wrestle instead?
a boy says.
No.
I say.
But then it turns into a wrestling meeting, and I am injured during this meeting.
Chapter 10.
We will take a break from meetings,
I announce.
And do some racing. I will time you.
YES!
one says.
The other grins confidently. She is wearing sandals in November.
Chapter 11. "I am ready to face any challenge that might be foolish enough to face me." *
It is bedtime.
I say firmly.
Can we just watch a little Pocahontas?
one pleads.
It would be educational, and it really helps us to learn another perspective about the English settling of the Americas!
No.
I say.
And if you're not asleep in the next thirty seconds, Thanksgiving may get canceled and we'll have meetings instead.
Becca and I sink into the purple couch together and snuggle up with a sigh.
Should we go get lunches ready for tomorrow, or do dishes, or have a meeting about finances?
I murmur?
Or should we watch The Office?
Uh-huh,
she says,
as her eyes close.
A lot of meetings. Can't wait to tell Jonny about them.
___
*Chapter 11 title : courtesy of Dwight Schrute
People who know stuff about things say it's good to make lists and to state, in writing, what's important in terms of accomplishment for the day ahead.
- I hope to enjoy a hot cup of coffee, from first sip to last, while it's...hot.
- I hope to get through the morning without having to clean poop off the floor.
- I hope to -
I'm needed. Somewhere. My hiding place isn't good enough.
Chapter 2.
What's your day looking like?
I ask,
as I peer at the bearded face on the screen while I spoon coffee into a French press for rebrew. Or re-rebrew.
He tells me. There are meetings and performance reviews, photo shoots and logistics planning, equipment checks and personnel protocols.
What's your day looking like?
he asks.
Oh,
I say.
Meetings, a lot of meetings about different stuff, and maybe I'll make some lunch sometime, if I can find food. I'm gonna go reheat some coffee now. Good luck with your stuff.
Thanks,
he says.
Good luck with your meetings.
Love you.
I say.
Love you.
he says.
If I'm not in a meeting,
I say,
I'l call you in five minutes.
But I am, so I can't.
So many today.
Chapter 3.
What are you doing?
I ask the littlest one, I think he's not even two yet.
Why are you standing outside your brother's room with a pencil stuck in the door handle?
Brina.
he says.
("Brina" is what he calls his brother; a derivation of "Johannes" and "brother." Perhaps?)
Are you trying to pick the lock to his room?
I ask sternly.
Uh-uh.
he says continuing to fiddle with it, failing.
I am proud of you for your resourcefulness...
I say, raising my voice so it will carry throughout the house for the next part.
...and this is a reminder to your older siblings that you will try and copy everything they do. Including picking locks.
Brina.
he says.
I'm gonna help you out a tiny bit,
I say, roughly yanking the pencil out of the lock.
I open the door.
No!!!!!
his older brother shrieks.
This is my room!
It's his room too,
I remind him.
Well, I was here first.
he says.
You guys work it out,
I say as I shove the youngest one in and pull the door shut behind me.
I'll be back in a while. Gotta cup of warm coffee to reheat. And then we'll have a meeting to discuss this incident.
Chapter 4.
Do people actually vote for him?
Magdelana asks as the video ends.
Yes.
I say, putting my phone away as we close out the meeting at which we discussed the previous evening's election results.
People actually voted for Brian Kemp. And now it looks like he's going to be the next governor of Georgia.
You mean he won?
Yep.
I say.
As of last night, looks like it.
But he was pointing a gun at a teenager in the video!
Yeah,
I say.
Some people think those things are funny. And some fathers don't know how to have good conversations with their daughters, so they make up for it by trying to act all tough and wave guns around and act like girls are precious little dolls that are going to get broken unless they jump in and threaten boys with a gun.
Okay...
she says.
But he was also driving around in a big truck and saying he's going to get illegal immigrants...and people still voted for him?
Yeah,
I say.
Many of the same people who voted for Donald Trump.
I do not think Brian Kemp should be a governor.
she says.
Amen.
I say.
Meeting adjourned.
Chapter 5.
One of you is going to take a nap,
I order the class.
And the other two are going to sit in on a meeting of how the Dutch, French, and English colonized the Americas. I will be leading the meeting.
What about the Spanish?
one says.
We're done with them.
I say.
There's a section I wanna get to before Thanksgiving. Who remembers the second permanent English settlement in the Americas?
Jamestown?
one says semi-excitedly.
Wrong.
I say.
That was the first. Think harder. Remember, we're in the 1600s now.
They think harder, but they fail.
Plymouth.
I sigh.
Plymouth was the second permanent English settlement. They came for what reason?
Gold?
one says.
No!
I say.
How can you not remember this?
I berate them viciously before returning to the topic at hand: religious freedom.
Because,
I scream at them to make sure they remember,
PEOPLE SHOULD BE FREE FROM PERSECUTION!
Chapter 6.
Do whatever you want,
I say.
But put back whatever you get out. And don't get injured badly. Understand?
Uh-huh!
he meets my expectations with cheerful eye contact and agreement, and
heads off to practice going down the slide backwards while holding a fistful of freshly-sharpened colored pencils in each hand.
As a treat,
I yell as he tumbles down,
if you don't get hurt too badly and don't get any poop or blood on the couch or carpet or clothes, then maybe I'll let you use one of my typewriters later!
Chapter 7. A meeting of nebulas.
If you can tell me,
I announced,
what happens when a cloud of gas and dust are floating around in space, and gravity starts pulling them together and pretty soon the core is super hot and there's two types of a certain molecule starting to fuse together...if you can tell me what they're called, then I'll cancel the rest of the meeting.
What was the question again?
one says.
Hydrogen.
I say smugly.
Hydrogen atoms. Two hydrogen atoms slam fuse together and form helium, and this reaction at the core is what provides the outward pressure to hold off gravity and keep a star stable for as long as it's alive, which may be somewhere between a million and ten billion years.
You didn't even let us try answering!
they complain.
Well, you should have been more prepared for the meeting,
I say confidently as I smoothly segue to the next point.
Like a star getting ready to die. What happens when the hydrogen goes bye-bye?
More fusion?
one guesses.
NO!
I scream.
Now the star is dying! But how gloriously it's dying! Don't come to a meeting unprepared next time!
Chapter 8.
Daddy!!!!
someone screamed.
There's poop on the floor!
See: Prologue, Number 2. Pun intended.
Chapter 9.
We are going to have a little chat.
I announce.
I told my brother I had meetings, plural, so we need to have at least a couple so he doesn't find out I made it up to sound important. So we are going to have another meeting.
Can we wrestle instead?
a boy says.
No.
I say.
But then it turns into a wrestling meeting, and I am injured during this meeting.
Chapter 10.
We will take a break from meetings,
I announce.
And do some racing. I will time you.
YES!
one says.
The other grins confidently. She is wearing sandals in November.
Chapter 11. "I am ready to face any challenge that might be foolish enough to face me." *
It is bedtime.
I say firmly.
Can we just watch a little Pocahontas?
one pleads.
It would be educational, and it really helps us to learn another perspective about the English settling of the Americas!
No.
I say.
And if you're not asleep in the next thirty seconds, Thanksgiving may get canceled and we'll have meetings instead.
Becca and I sink into the purple couch together and snuggle up with a sigh.
Should we go get lunches ready for tomorrow, or do dishes, or have a meeting about finances?
I murmur?
Or should we watch The Office?
Uh-huh,
she says,
as her eyes close.
A lot of meetings. Can't wait to tell Jonny about them.
___
*Chapter 11 title : courtesy of Dwight Schrute
10.12.2018
A COMMA, NOT A PERIOD.
The first thing you'll probably notice is how well-composed this group selfie is.
That's because I took it, and I am very good at taking group selfies. My left arm, like that one foot of that one Daniel Day-Lewis character, is very dexterous and surprisingly lengthy.
The other thing you might notice is that the people contained within this frame do not appear happy. Or rather, joyful. There is not a song in these hearts, or if there is, it is likely a Black Heart Processional song, or maybe one of more Adele's more weepy ones, which would be pretty much anything she's ever sung.
My dear brother Jonny and his beloved, Meilani, are moving. At this point, they have moved. Rather, they have left; departed with a trailer full of mostly unnecessary belongings, and their bunny, to the locale of Toronto. Toronto, Canada. A 38-hour drive away, according to maps, which means probably 48 hours with a trailer, and 96 hours if there were children involved. There are not, unless they impregnate themselves along the way, which I have strongly urged them to do.
#stay warm
For many years, I have told my siblings:
I want you to be where you need to be. I always want you geographically close, but more importantly, I want you to be where you need to be, to follow your dreams and the path to achieving your dreams, and sometimes that means sacrifices that take you physically away from your family. But you gotta do it.
And I will support those decisions even when they're painful. And this was so painful. And when I say was, what I mean is...is. Will be. I'm still in denial and it hasn't really sunk in yet. It will.
I don't know the number of times Jonny and I have talked on average per day for the last decade, and I don't know the average length of those different conversations, but they would be interesting numbers to analyze.
Little tiny talks, many many times, most frequently about mundane topics that have no introduction and no ending and generally conclude with abrupt:
Talk to you in five minutes.
Okay, love you, talk to you in four.
Click.
Lots of little ones. Little, guilt-free, trivial conversations that have laid a bedrock for the occasional more substantive ones that deep-rooted relationships are built on.
It's so hard saying goodbye. I had to say goodbye to one of my other best friends several months ago, and her absence is still such a big hole. Now the hole's bigger.
#thatswhatshesaid #michaelscott Funny television to make me laugh even when I don't want to.
I've always been pretty good at making goals and finding little things to look forward to. I've lost some of that skill though. Trying to get it back.
It's a cliche that 'change is hard.' But I think the hardest kind of change to face is when everything seems to be changing around you and you want to change, but the brutal heel of reality makes the steps toward active change seem so difficult and almost impossible.
I do believe in that idea that you absorb the mores, attitudes, philosophies, etc. of the six people or so you spend the most time around. That's a powerful concept, and a lot to unwrap. The influence of those you're surrounded by.
Who will step in?
Or, who will I find to step in?
Or, will I wait for someone to step in, or will I charge ahead, facing change, finding the track back to dreams I've had, continuing to assist in others' actively along the way?
I hope that one. I'll try. It's hard, when you love someone so much to let them go and face their dreams. I wanna be a support system, a cheerleading squad; I wanna build the best thing possible from afar, and hope that it'll be near again soon.
There's not some big inspiring wrap-up to this. Change happens. You either flight it, fight it, or accept it. Or ignore it.
I'm proud of those who charge forward and make change happen. Thanks for being an influence on my life and others and carpe dieming the flipping lights out of life.
Anyway. All the love. Thanks ahead of time to the Postal Service, Pony Express, and FaceTime. And cheap airline tickets.
- Josef.
That's because I took it, and I am very good at taking group selfies. My left arm, like that one foot of that one Daniel Day-Lewis character, is very dexterous and surprisingly lengthy.
The other thing you might notice is that the people contained within this frame do not appear happy. Or rather, joyful. There is not a song in these hearts, or if there is, it is likely a Black Heart Processional song, or maybe one of more Adele's more weepy ones, which would be pretty much anything she's ever sung.
My dear brother Jonny and his beloved, Meilani, are moving. At this point, they have moved. Rather, they have left; departed with a trailer full of mostly unnecessary belongings, and their bunny, to the locale of Toronto. Toronto, Canada. A 38-hour drive away, according to maps, which means probably 48 hours with a trailer, and 96 hours if there were children involved. There are not, unless they impregnate themselves along the way, which I have strongly urged them to do.
#stay warm
For many years, I have told my siblings:
I want you to be where you need to be. I always want you geographically close, but more importantly, I want you to be where you need to be, to follow your dreams and the path to achieving your dreams, and sometimes that means sacrifices that take you physically away from your family. But you gotta do it.
And I will support those decisions even when they're painful. And this was so painful. And when I say was, what I mean is...is. Will be. I'm still in denial and it hasn't really sunk in yet. It will.
I don't know the number of times Jonny and I have talked on average per day for the last decade, and I don't know the average length of those different conversations, but they would be interesting numbers to analyze.
Little tiny talks, many many times, most frequently about mundane topics that have no introduction and no ending and generally conclude with abrupt:
Talk to you in five minutes.
Okay, love you, talk to you in four.
Click.
Lots of little ones. Little, guilt-free, trivial conversations that have laid a bedrock for the occasional more substantive ones that deep-rooted relationships are built on.
It's so hard saying goodbye. I had to say goodbye to one of my other best friends several months ago, and her absence is still such a big hole. Now the hole's bigger.
#thatswhatshesaid #michaelscott Funny television to make me laugh even when I don't want to.
I've always been pretty good at making goals and finding little things to look forward to. I've lost some of that skill though. Trying to get it back.
It's a cliche that 'change is hard.' But I think the hardest kind of change to face is when everything seems to be changing around you and you want to change, but the brutal heel of reality makes the steps toward active change seem so difficult and almost impossible.
I do believe in that idea that you absorb the mores, attitudes, philosophies, etc. of the six people or so you spend the most time around. That's a powerful concept, and a lot to unwrap. The influence of those you're surrounded by.
Who will step in?
Or, who will I find to step in?
Or, will I wait for someone to step in, or will I charge ahead, facing change, finding the track back to dreams I've had, continuing to assist in others' actively along the way?
I hope that one. I'll try. It's hard, when you love someone so much to let them go and face their dreams. I wanna be a support system, a cheerleading squad; I wanna build the best thing possible from afar, and hope that it'll be near again soon.
There's not some big inspiring wrap-up to this. Change happens. You either flight it, fight it, or accept it. Or ignore it.
I'm proud of those who charge forward and make change happen. Thanks for being an influence on my life and others and carpe dieming the flipping lights out of life.
Anyway. All the love. Thanks ahead of time to the Postal Service, Pony Express, and FaceTime. And cheap airline tickets.
- Josef.
8.05.2018
TRIGGERS (AN AFTERNOON DRIVE THROUGH DRY COUNTRY IN TWO STATES).
My friend Glenn,
Grew up in Post Falls Idaho, population thirty thousand.
Heart attack, 60s.
Can’t drive through without thinking of him.
My friend Ben,
Passing through Ritzville Washington, population sixteen hundred.
Car crash, 30s.
Can’t drive through without thinking of him.
My friend Rachel,
Endless rolling Washington wheat fields; popuIation unknown, I got James cranked.
Moved away, 40s.
Can’t drive through and listen without thinking of her.
Dry wheat fields,
they’re itching my eyes.
They’re all gone.
EPILOGUE.
My friend _____,
Leaving soon.
___ ______ ____ ____
____ _____ ________
My eyes, my heart.
Grew up in Post Falls Idaho, population thirty thousand.
Heart attack, 60s.
Can’t drive through without thinking of him.
My friend Ben,
Passing through Ritzville Washington, population sixteen hundred.
Car crash, 30s.
Can’t drive through without thinking of him.
My friend Rachel,
Endless rolling Washington wheat fields; popuIation unknown, I got James cranked.
Moved away, 40s.
Can’t drive through and listen without thinking of her.
Dry wheat fields,
they’re itching my eyes.
They’re all gone.
EPILOGUE.
My friend _____,
Leaving soon.
___ ______ ____ ____
____ _____ ________
My eyes, my heart.
5.05.2018
POEM : HOMO FOMO.
Humans; the Latin is homo
Humanity; a feeling we share is the one called FOMO
Fear of missing out
Feeling we all know about
The dreadful lurking horror
That life may have something morer;
An event we’ll forget about
Until Instagrammed later from friends who gotta post I tout, no doubt;
How it was so awesomeous lit
And none should have missed it, not one moment original minute or bit.
But you did, you missed the big thing
And everyone knows it, ya big ding a-long ding.
My little bro Jonny, big muscled blonde and best aerial shooter maybe
Was once a wee chunk of a big-headed baby
Who could totter and teeter and crawl and climb,
but he couldn’t walk, despite a mile-long smile sublime.
The older he got,
the more people thought,
“Will the boy ever walk?”
Mom, dad quieted this talk
informed the teachers and helpers and weigher-in inners
That he would stand tall and move
When he felt he was ready to groove.
He creeped and he crawled and he blubbered along,
his roll-poly body and gargantuan voice singing a song.
On four limbs he moved hominid style
Moving along though it took him a while
Was he developing correctly and quickly?
Probably not, I thought, my poor brother sickly.
He moves like a tired and crippled old horse
A horse with no legs or limbs, of course.
But someday, I knew and believed
He would stand up and commit to performing the deed;
The deed to propel him to succeed, to lead,
One foot and then the other in front of another.
And when that finally occurred
The memories of when he didn’t would be blurred;
None would care or bring to mind
The lateness with which he walked like the rest of childkind.
Did he miss out on those early years of tottering on twos?
Did it cause his future to have much to lose?
The things that we miss are a reality reel
And a reminder to simply enjoy the real that is the real deal;
To not dwell on what was wasn’t or where we weren’t,
But to be grateful for what we did actually experience and learnt.
There will always be lessons we learn very soon or too very late,
and sometimes it feels like ugly claws of fate, which we all often hate.
But we learn what we learn and we keep moving in a direction ,
Even if the direction seems wrong because of a poor people’s choice election.
We can’t be everywhere for everyone for everything and stamp every visa,
And we’ll likely never meet every girl with the middle name Lisa.
There’s stuff we’ll miss out on and that’s okay,
So better to try and simply enjoy every day.
Humanity; a feeling we share is the one called FOMO
Fear of missing out
Feeling we all know about
The dreadful lurking horror
That life may have something morer;
An event we’ll forget about
Until Instagrammed later from friends who gotta post I tout, no doubt;
How it was so awesomeous lit
And none should have missed it, not one moment original minute or bit.
But you did, you missed the big thing
And everyone knows it, ya big ding a-long ding.
My little bro Jonny, big muscled blonde and best aerial shooter maybe
Was once a wee chunk of a big-headed baby
Who could totter and teeter and crawl and climb,
but he couldn’t walk, despite a mile-long smile sublime.
The older he got,
the more people thought,
“Will the boy ever walk?”
Mom, dad quieted this talk
informed the teachers and helpers and weigher-in inners
That he would stand tall and move
When he felt he was ready to groove.
He creeped and he crawled and he blubbered along,
his roll-poly body and gargantuan voice singing a song.
On four limbs he moved hominid style
Moving along though it took him a while
Was he developing correctly and quickly?
Probably not, I thought, my poor brother sickly.
He moves like a tired and crippled old horse
A horse with no legs or limbs, of course.
But someday, I knew and believed
He would stand up and commit to performing the deed;
The deed to propel him to succeed, to lead,
One foot and then the other in front of another.
And when that finally occurred
The memories of when he didn’t would be blurred;
None would care or bring to mind
The lateness with which he walked like the rest of childkind.
Did he miss out on those early years of tottering on twos?
Did it cause his future to have much to lose?
The things that we miss are a reality reel
And a reminder to simply enjoy the real that is the real deal;
To not dwell on what was wasn’t or where we weren’t,
But to be grateful for what we did actually experience and learnt.
There will always be lessons we learn very soon or too very late,
and sometimes it feels like ugly claws of fate, which we all often hate.
But we learn what we learn and we keep moving in a direction ,
Even if the direction seems wrong because of a poor people’s choice election.
We can’t be everywhere for everyone for everything and stamp every visa,
And we’ll likely never meet every girl with the middle name Lisa.
There’s stuff we’ll miss out on and that’s okay,
So better to try and simply enjoy every day.
12.02.2017
JON.
Eleven years ago, Jonathan Long (Jonny) and I invented a communication process known as the Sixty-Second Phone Call (footnote below on who he is). But this is not about Jonny. It is about Jonathan Ponder, also known as Jon.
The movie Chinatown is not a Christmas movie. It takes place in California. It is considered by some to be the finest screenplay ever written. I don’t agree, I met Jon there. Not in the town of Los Angeles, but in a city a short seventeen-hour drive away, in College Place, Washington, where he was attending college, as was I. We studied Odysseus, but not together, and then ran into each other randomly in a city adjacent to Los Angeles much later, so the college part above is largely irrelevant. Also, he played bass guitar.
He was friends with my sister and friends with friends (see: tagged people), but then I stole him so we could hang out without intermediaries.
Sometimes, good friends talk every day.
And sometimes, good friends talk every several months.
Along with Jeremy Long, whose relationship to me is difficult to simplify in a single post, although he also has played bass guitar and knew Lance (see footnote below), Jon has been the most fun Radiohead deconstructionizing conversationalist I have known in the past 26 years (I am older than 26). I have a vivid memory of riding in the passenger seat of a blue car (I think) with him driving (reasonably certain it was him) and discussing Amnesiac (possibly was Kid A). I can remember with great clarity the neighbourhood we were passing through; it was in California, or a neighboring state, and it was definitely a hot day.
He introduced me to a group of film and book geeks who met weekly to watch, break down, and discuss Westerns. I saw Once Upon a Time in the West for the first time there, which is my very favourite Western ever and will change the way you think of Henry Fonda, but Jon was not there. I don’t know where he was that week. I’ve always wondered. He he may have been writing poetry or playing guitar at Jazz ‘n Java. If the NSA ever releases all their surveillance and drone footage (of course it exists), I’ll check to find out.
When I moved to Montana for grad school, and me and Becca’s apartment had concrete floors, then Jon said: I’m coming too.
He did not say that. But he did come visit, and it snowed, we hiked, and he bought the Jesus and Mary Chain’s Munki on CD and then left it at our apartment, where I accidentally copied it before mailing to him. Birthday is still my fourth favourite song of theirs. I do not know what he would rate the album at this point, but it’s much better than the atrocious and disappointing one they released last year. But I don’t know, Jon might love it, we haven’t texted back and forth about it yet. We might never. He collects and invests in vinyl treasures and is focused on more roots music at this point, although we still have great texts about The New Pornographers and other shared poppy faves.
I got a package awhile back from him that contained books. He is one of the remaining friends I have who loves books more than myself, and possibly more, occasionally. They were some of his picks to share, that I will not divulge, except to say that Jonathan Franzen was in there twice and one of them is not the book you might think it was. I slowly savored and worked my way through them, and I especially loved How to be Alone.
He gave me a collection of LPs when he visited several months ago. He had been slowly assembling them, along with the coolest and greatest accompanying handwritten liner notes, and it is one of the most meaningful and awesomest presents I have received. A reason for every one.
Sometimes we exchange voicemails instead of actually talking, and I will say that we are both very, very good at leaving well-crafted voicemails that you would not ever want to delete. We do not talk every day, but I think I am going to call him next month, or in a month soon thereafter. And we will pick right up where we were last, which was something important to do with literature or music or philosophy, and someday he will have listened to Sharon Van Etten and I will have watched The Wire and we can compare notes.
Until then, I will look forward to ignoring his phone call and letting it go to voicemail so I can listen to it at my leisure, and prepare to call him back with a call he can ignore and let go to voicemail, and...
...that is a friend I am happy to have be a friend. A good friend for a long time in the past and far into the future.
Bye.
_____
FOOTNOTE:
The easiest way to frame who Jonathan Long is in relation to me is this: Jonny (his nickname) had a basketball coach in high school whose name was Lance. Lance has gone to see the Los Angeles Dodgers in L.A. (a.k.a. Los Angeles). They are a baseball team apparently. Jonny used to play baseball in a town I also grew up in - Tillamook, Oregon - which is north of Los Angeles. The California Los Angeles, not the other one. When Lance saw the Dodgers play in Los Angeles, he did not see Jonny, but before that, he had stayed with Jonny’s brother Jamey in Arizona, which is where certain baseball teams practice their spring training baseball practice to be ready for baseball. Jamey also played baseball, but not basketball for Lance’s basketball team in Portland, Oregon, which is north of Los Angeles, east of Portland, and west of Ann Arbor, Michigan. The first time I met Lance, I don’t remember, but the second I met him I do. He is a fine fellow, and I had known Jonny before that, and before he played baseball, as we had grown up in adjacent bedrooms in the same household, as we shared parents, although my room was on the bottom floor. So Lance is the connecting thread, aside from Jonny being my brother (and Jamey’s). I never played basketball for Lance, but I have known people who did, and some live in states east of the Mississippi now, which is east of Los Angeles and Portland. Jonny and Jon Ponder have met as well, though never played baseball together, to my knowledge.
7.07.2017
MINISTER OF SOMETHING.
This one time Jeremy and I went out to breakfast. We ran into some other people. You know, if Jeremy ran for President against Tom Hanks, I'd probably vote for Tom, but I would strongly be in favor of Jeremy being Secretary of State. Or Minister of War.
6.11.2017
THIS IS A NOTE TO MY BROTHER JONNY.
Can we watch Hell or High Water? Uncle Jonny said it gave him nightmares, but I'm pretty sure I'd be okay with it.
- your six-year old nephew
- your six-year old nephew
12.31.2016
LET THERE BE BLOODS.
A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on
BLOODS.*
double-helix sharing ferocities;
sometimes fighting with, often fighting for,
back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back through everything.
by my side,
in my heart,
sevenstrong.
Forever.
____
*a phrase borrowed from other beloved brother Bobby James; where he pillaged it from I do not know. But I love it.
Labels:
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12.10.2016
IN WHICH A THOUSAND TUBAS BLAST CHRISTMAS GOODNESS TO CHICAGO FROM PORTLAND.
A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on
9.03.2016
THOUSAND DOLLAR TOYS (ASK UNCLE JONNY FOR ONE).
"Usually, the kind of drones I prefer cost several thousand dollars, but I guess I sort of like it."
Our son at Costco, in response to my enthusiastically pointing out a $25 drone I thought he would be excited about. Thank you, so much, Uncle Jonny Long and Fly View Aerial for setting a high mark regarding his expectations for aerial toys.
8.23.2016
WILL THE FILM : hey dad, can I borrow your wallet?
Hello father,
I noticed that you haven't donated to our film project yet, so if you want to send me your credit card info, I can quietly make a substantial as-yet-to-be-determined pledge in your name. Would you prefer it be a three digit or a four digit number? (To the left of decimal point, obviously).
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/flyviewaerial/will-the-film
Actually, I think I have an iPhone shot of your card info, so I can go ahead and take care of it. Unless you want to do it yourself, which is fine, as long as it's in the next hour. I'll proceed on my own with your pledge if you haven't by 10pm.
Also, I have Uncle James's bank account info as well and will do the same. It's for the best, and thank you both so deeply.
As always, your trust in me is hilarious and adorable.
Love,
Me.
___
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/flyviewaerial/will-the-film
I noticed that you haven't donated to our film project yet, so if you want to send me your credit card info, I can quietly make a substantial as-yet-to-be-determined pledge in your name. Would you prefer it be a three digit or a four digit number? (To the left of decimal point, obviously).
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/flyviewaerial/will-the-film
Actually, I think I have an iPhone shot of your card info, so I can go ahead and take care of it. Unless you want to do it yourself, which is fine, as long as it's in the next hour. I'll proceed on my own with your pledge if you haven't by 10pm.
Also, I have Uncle James's bank account info as well and will do the same. It's for the best, and thank you both so deeply.
As always, your trust in me is hilarious and adorable.
Love,
Me.
___
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/flyviewaerial/will-the-film
WILL THE FILM - FUNDRAISING!
This is a short film we're making, alongside my brother Jonny Long and his company, Fly View Aerial, and Portland filmmakers Dennis Mulyar and Ian Midura. We've been developing it for six months and are ready to move into production in September (next month!). Our Kickstarter campaign launched this morning; in the first eight hours we've had almost 100 backers pledging a total of over $3,500. Every little bit counts, even a dollar at a time. If you're able to contribute, support, share, etc., we would be so appreciative!
Kickstarter link: Will the Film
This little film with a big heart means a great deal to us and the surrounding Portland and Vancouver communities. We also know that it has the potential to reach and impact a much greater and global community, as this coming-of-age story* highlights one particular father-son relationship that has lots of laughs and a lot emotional heft, as they navigate their way through life playing basketball, fighting fires, and planning for the future.
Until the future changes suddenly.
(watch the video below for a synopsis, or jump to the text below)
"Will" is a short film based on real people and events. We've been developing it for the last six months and are moving into production in September of 2016. It is a humorous, thought-provoking, coming of age story about the often hilarious relationship between a determined boy and his charismatic, eccentric firefighter dad as they shoot hoops and argue about the future.
Until the future throws a curveball.
This little fictional film has a giant heart. It is based on the life of Gregg Roberts, a firefighter, father, friend, and coach to many. Gregg's big personality and stature, coupled with rambunctious humor and tender spirit, have influenced countless people in his wide-ranging circle, most notably his family, his firefighting comrades, and his friends.
In 2014, Gregg's life was taken tragically and suddenly. This tiny film is meant to shine a spotlight on one of the most important aspects of his life: his relationship with his family, specifically, one of his sons. Although based in reality and about a specific father and son, the themes are universal: the joy, tribulation, challenge, and fantastic reality of a parent and teenage child navigating life together, often in disagreement, always in love.
Through this campaign we are hoping to raise the funds needed to get this film done the right way. We want to honor the Roberts family and others who loved Gregg and love the Roberts family. It’s our hope that this little film with a big heart will bring laughter, joy, and thoughtful reflection to your lives.
We are passionate about this project and are confident in its ability to keep viewers entertained with the frequently comedic relationship between a dad and son, while also leaving the opportunity to be inspired, to think deeply about relationships, and to enthusiastically cherish every moment.
With a little over a month until principal production, we are primed to do this story and project justice with a long list of established creatives signed up to contribute their talents. In order to produce this at the quality it deserves, we need your backing and support.
Please consider helping us in whatever way you can to make this film a reality. We can't thank you enough!
____
*written by yours truly :)
Kickstarter link: Will the Film
This little film with a big heart means a great deal to us and the surrounding Portland and Vancouver communities. We also know that it has the potential to reach and impact a much greater and global community, as this coming-of-age story* highlights one particular father-son relationship that has lots of laughs and a lot emotional heft, as they navigate their way through life playing basketball, fighting fires, and planning for the future.
Until the future changes suddenly.
(watch the video below for a synopsis, or jump to the text below)
"Will" is a short film based on real people and events. We've been developing it for the last six months and are moving into production in September of 2016. It is a humorous, thought-provoking, coming of age story about the often hilarious relationship between a determined boy and his charismatic, eccentric firefighter dad as they shoot hoops and argue about the future.
Until the future throws a curveball.
This little fictional film has a giant heart. It is based on the life of Gregg Roberts, a firefighter, father, friend, and coach to many. Gregg's big personality and stature, coupled with rambunctious humor and tender spirit, have influenced countless people in his wide-ranging circle, most notably his family, his firefighting comrades, and his friends.
In 2014, Gregg's life was taken tragically and suddenly. This tiny film is meant to shine a spotlight on one of the most important aspects of his life: his relationship with his family, specifically, one of his sons. Although based in reality and about a specific father and son, the themes are universal: the joy, tribulation, challenge, and fantastic reality of a parent and teenage child navigating life together, often in disagreement, always in love.
Through this campaign we are hoping to raise the funds needed to get this film done the right way. We want to honor the Roberts family and others who loved Gregg and love the Roberts family. It’s our hope that this little film with a big heart will bring laughter, joy, and thoughtful reflection to your lives.
We are passionate about this project and are confident in its ability to keep viewers entertained with the frequently comedic relationship between a dad and son, while also leaving the opportunity to be inspired, to think deeply about relationships, and to enthusiastically cherish every moment.
With a little over a month until principal production, we are primed to do this story and project justice with a long list of established creatives signed up to contribute their talents. In order to produce this at the quality it deserves, we need your backing and support.
Please consider helping us in whatever way you can to make this film a reality. We can't thank you enough!
____
*written by yours truly :)
6.17.2016
BIRTHDAY : Jonny and a beard.
Hey Jonny.
It really hurt me last week, when someone commented on how your beard was bigger than mine. I guess that's what happens when you get older: a lot more pain and learning how to deal with hurtful comments. And truth is, it's true. Your beard is bigger.
I want to run from it, but the fact remains that it is. I gotta be able to look in the mirror and say "hey, we're getting older, and now another brother has a better beard than you." It's just so hard to hear those words from other people, and to hear the whisperings even when they think you're too old to be able to hear them. Well, I can hear, quite well actually, as I've been watching Daredevil and doing a lot of ear exercising exercises.
One advantage of being Daredevil is that he doesn't have to look in the mirror and realise his younger brother has a cooler beard than him. He doesn't have to look in the mirror at all. He also doesn't have a brother, which is sad, because I do, and I am glad. And in spite of the great resentment I have stored up over your healthy facial hair, I have to say that you are one of my favourites. I have also not shaved since that uncalled for remark from the anonymous person (your identity is safe, Zechariah Runkle).
In spite of the overwhelming angst I feel today, I can still say with mostly truthfulness-ish : "happy" birthday, and the one thing that I've wanted to tell you for years is tha
___
Daddy,
one informed me.
Sometimes when you're not looking, I take sips of your coffee.
Yeah!
the other one chimed in untruthfully.
It's really really good,
she continued.
It's addicting. I think I'm addicted.
Sometimes I feel like the dad equivalent of Derek Zoolander.
____
It really hurt me last week, when someone commented on how your beard was bigger than mine. I guess that's what happens when you get older: a lot more pain and learning how to deal with hurtful comments. And truth is, it's true. Your beard is bigger.
I want to run from it, but the fact remains that it is. I gotta be able to look in the mirror and say "hey, we're getting older, and now another brother has a better beard than you." It's just so hard to hear those words from other people, and to hear the whisperings even when they think you're too old to be able to hear them. Well, I can hear, quite well actually, as I've been watching Daredevil and doing a lot of ear exercising exercises.
One advantage of being Daredevil is that he doesn't have to look in the mirror and realise his younger brother has a cooler beard than him. He doesn't have to look in the mirror at all. He also doesn't have a brother, which is sad, because I do, and I am glad. And in spite of the great resentment I have stored up over your healthy facial hair, I have to say that you are one of my favourites. I have also not shaved since that uncalled for remark from the anonymous person (your identity is safe, Zechariah Runkle).
In spite of the overwhelming angst I feel today, I can still say with mostly truthfulness-ish : "happy" birthday, and the one thing that I've wanted to tell you for years is tha
___
WHO AM I?
Daddy,
one informed me.
Sometimes when you're not looking, I take sips of your coffee.
Yeah!
the other one chimed in untruthfully.
It's really really good,
she continued.
It's addicting. I think I'm addicted.
Sometimes I feel like the dad equivalent of Derek Zoolander.
____
3.19.2016
6.18.2015
GUEST POST: RYAN & AMY'S WEDDING
The Dream Team, Photographer Edition.
Congratulations to bride and groom, Amy and Ryan White!
#TetherowGolfClub #BendOregon
@jonnylong15 @josselynpeterson @josephivanlong
- Meilani Long
Congratulations to bride and groom, Amy and Ryan White!
#TetherowGolfClub #BendOregon
@jonnylong15 @josselynpeterson @josephivanlong
- Meilani Long
![]() |
| photo: Meilani Long ©2015 |
Labels:
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brothers,
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Jonny L. Long,
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5.07.2015
GUEST POST: JONNY & JOSEPH IN UTAH.
Quick little 48 hour trip to St. George/Hurricane, Utah to grab aerials and ground footage in and around Colorado City, home of the infamous Roland and Warren Jeffs, among others. If you've ever read Jon Krakaur's "Under the Banner of Heaven", you'll know some of the controversies that have ensued here. Tune in tomorrow night to #ABC20/20 to check out the story and see some of our work.
- Jonny Long
My brother and I fly Delta, and wait at the airport, and talk about our relationship.
https://youtu.be/VfAJul8ULlM
![]() |
| ©2015 Jonny Long |
https://youtu.be/VfAJul8ULlM
3.13.2015
OSHA READY.
In the furthest recesses of my memory,
I try to recall,
or imagine,
a world in which we had no children to assist with household chores.
But it is too challenging,
and the thought of going back to that world;
a world in which the adults had to do all the work ourselves,
is simply too horrid to dwell on.
Thank goodness for enthusiastic work ethics,
good shop vacs, and extra-safe safety accessories.
PEOPLE > LAWNS.
Do you want to see my really serious expression?
he asked.
Sure.
I said.
And then finish landscaping really quick. Almost there.
I try to recall,
or imagine,
a world in which we had no children to assist with household chores.
But it is too challenging,
and the thought of going back to that world;
a world in which the adults had to do all the work ourselves,
is simply too horrid to dwell on.
Thank goodness for enthusiastic work ethics,
good shop vacs, and extra-safe safety accessories.
PEOPLE > LAWNS.
Do you want to see my really serious expression?
he asked.
Sure.
I said.
And then finish landscaping really quick. Almost there.
The Reader.
AORTA.
I'd like to think I have a decent music sensibility, and a relatively alive cultural awareness, but I also hope I'm the kind of person who never stops getting goosebumps when Phil Collins comes on singing "You'll Be in My Heart."
Jonny Long, I know you know what I mean.
____
Phil Collins
You'll Be in My Heart
Tarzan soundtrack
1999
1.19.2015
JONNY IN HAWAII.
Walk soft and carry a big lens.
- my brother.
please keep him in your thoughts and prayers that he will stay warm enough. Hawaii in the dead of winter can get downright chilly. I worry that he's not even wearing mittens.
11.26.2014
FIVE EMERGENCY ROOM STATS YOU NEED TO KNOW, PLUS THREE BROTHERS.
NEWTON & O'CONNOR.
Everything that rises must converge,
and fall back to earth because of gravity.
Unless it doesn't,
in which case the intransigent laws of motion are being defied,
which is way cool, like falling snow reversing itself.
First of all, I'm fine. Or at least alive. I am also at the ER, where I have met some great people and gleaned some valuable stuff about good times to get hurt, and not.
1.
Don't get injured on Monday. Or Saturday. Especially not Saturday. Saturday makes sense, with all the weekend activities and recreational daring-do, but Monday seems to be a puzzling one to everyone I've spoken to. Why Mondays?
2.
MVA = motor vehicle accident. I'm always up for learning new acronyms.
Finger lac (hard c) = finger laceration.
3.
The big Thanksgiving injury around here is...finger lacs. Because of...
...those powered turkey carving knives. "We hate 'em." she said. "Don't use 'em."
Okay.
I said.
I'm vegetarian.
Oh!
she said.
Do you do tofurkey?
Then we had a great conversation about salads and a million ways to do 'em. Tip: turn them into rice bowls and don't be afraid to add chocolate sprinkles and whipped cream.
4.
The average wait time in U.S. Hospitals in the ER is 3 1/2 to four hours.
So,
she said.
If you get seen in less than two hours, consider yourself fortunate!
Yep.
I said.
And I will try to not schedule a visit for a Monday or Saturday.
5.
Currently there are:
- three two-person conversations happening
- one and a half people watching an episode of CSI: Miami.
- nine people doing stuff on their phones
- one person damaging their spine doing something on an iPad while standing up.
- one child playing in the kids area.
- one guy pacing around looking at people with a semi-intense look, but maybe he's just anxious for Thanksgiving so he can start cutting up those poor turkeys.
Don't use a power knife,
I whisper quietly.
Don't do it.
And somewhere in here, someone is possibly writing about me - "...and there's a fellow in a red tie and coffee-stained shirt talking to himself..."
O joyful week, world.
____
Everything that rises must converge,
and fall back to earth because of gravity.
Unless it doesn't,
in which case the intransigent laws of motion are being defied,
which is way cool, like falling snow reversing itself.
First of all, I'm fine. Or at least alive. I am also at the ER, where I have met some great people and gleaned some valuable stuff about good times to get hurt, and not.
1.
Don't get injured on Monday. Or Saturday. Especially not Saturday. Saturday makes sense, with all the weekend activities and recreational daring-do, but Monday seems to be a puzzling one to everyone I've spoken to. Why Mondays?
2.
MVA = motor vehicle accident. I'm always up for learning new acronyms.
Finger lac (hard c) = finger laceration.
3.
The big Thanksgiving injury around here is...finger lacs. Because of...
...those powered turkey carving knives. "We hate 'em." she said. "Don't use 'em."
Okay.
I said.
I'm vegetarian.
Oh!
she said.
Do you do tofurkey?
Then we had a great conversation about salads and a million ways to do 'em. Tip: turn them into rice bowls and don't be afraid to add chocolate sprinkles and whipped cream.
4.
The average wait time in U.S. Hospitals in the ER is 3 1/2 to four hours.
So,
she said.
If you get seen in less than two hours, consider yourself fortunate!
Yep.
I said.
And I will try to not schedule a visit for a Monday or Saturday.
5.
Currently there are:
- three two-person conversations happening
- one and a half people watching an episode of CSI: Miami.
- nine people doing stuff on their phones
- one person damaging their spine doing something on an iPad while standing up.
- one child playing in the kids area.
- one guy pacing around looking at people with a semi-intense look, but maybe he's just anxious for Thanksgiving so he can start cutting up those poor turkeys.
Don't use a power knife,
I whisper quietly.
Don't do it.
And somewhere in here, someone is possibly writing about me - "...and there's a fellow in a red tie and coffee-stained shirt talking to himself..."
O joyful week, world.
____
A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on
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