Being A Grownup: Part 2

It has been a long while since I’ve written here.

Partially because of the hectic nature of the last few months and the things I choose to do with and for my family that take my nose out of this computer screen.

Partially because I am still determining what is “mine” and what is “yours” and how to share it.

Partially because I am still confused about what the purpose of this blog is. I’ll get there…don’t worry. One of these days your inbox will be filled with posts and updates…

But not quite yet.

Today I just need to…receive affirmation. Mostly from myself.

Who has heard the term “Beyond A Reasonable Doubt?” I have. A lot lately, actually. Yet, no one seems to be able to say exactly what this means. I can tell you what it doesn’t mean.

1: it does not mean “Beyond All Doubt”
Beyond all doubt is something that requites 100% assuredness that a thing is absolutely correct. If I had been there, on that day, in that place, paying attention to everything that was happening before me…If I had been watching all of the events unfold in microscopic detail… If I had absorbed it all into my matrix…then perhaps I could be 100% sure of the thing. But I wasn’t. And I can’t.

And I’m not.

2: it does not mean “Beyond The Shadow Of A Doubt”
Apparently it’s a Columbo thing. Kids: TV is not always right!

The best definition I can come up with is that a reasonable doubt is the point at which a doubt no longer becomes reasonable.

I know…like water right!

I have reason to doubt that this crime was committed because I have not been shown sufficient evidence to prove that it was. All I see over there is a man. Not just like me, but enough. It is their burden to remove my doubt. Let the games begin.

[Side note. I hate to use the term “theatre” here, but this was definitely a finely tuned performance. The characters played their rolls well, and the audience was captive (well, kind of literally.) The exhilaration abounded. Photos and recordings and police. Around each twisting corner there was another fact, or an objection, or a huddled mass whispering together occasionally leaking out a single word. “Inadmissible.” “Hearsay.” “Speculation.” If I do say so myself, I bet this format would make quite a wonderful TV show. I could make a million…]

The sticking point, it turns out, is the interpretation of a statement regarding what was seen by a specific individual. A review of the statement plus a little clarification here and a little discussion there leads to a little signature on the line and …Walla!

Doubt Removed!

Three days and some new friends, and my duty to society has been paid!!!

Right?!?!?

It turns out no. It turns out that the man sitting at the table is still a man. And he is still waiting for his judgment.

“Yes we have.” I say for the first time. The first words of mine he will ever hear.

And we had…we had changed his life. What else could we do? We had no reason to doubt what we had been told. It all fit like a puzzle. Well, enough at least.

And then the strangest thing happened. The shape of the puzzle changed. The black pieces all turned white, and the white ones all turned…around.

Suddenly it felt as though the trial had begun again. [Side note: in Texas the trial system is broken into two parts…the criminal trial and the sentencing trial that immediately follows, utilizing the same jury. Apparently, all this happens before lunch. They don’t mess around in Texas!]

What’s this…? A Criminal history?
What’s that…? Nine years in The Pen?
Parole after four?
Early release?
Good Behavior?
And he’s 25 years old!
A bitch girlfriend who keeps getting in trouble?
A good man who has made some mistakes trying desperately to help the woman he loves, his baby’s mama…his common-law wife…to help her turn her life around. Bad things only happen to him when SHE’s around.
Another criminal accusation? (Its Her! She’s crazy in the head!)
An un-edited recorded interview (its funny that they never mentioned the fact that the interview was edited the first time they played it. That must not have been important.)
He didn’t have a DAD!!!

And the tears.

And I am confused. I don’t know what to believe anymore. The idea of a TV screen (or better yet, a power button) becomes more and more appealing.

And I think of my daughter. Now…I am not the same as this man. But…his son. Isn’t he the same as my daughter? Doesn’t he need love? Doesn’t he need strength? Doesn’t he need a hand to hold? And a cheek to kiss? And someone to read that story, or watch that game, or correct that spelling, or…

And I begin to doubt. Somehow, on some level, it seems reasonable again. Somehow, on some level, I internalize the decision that was made as if it was mine alone, and I feel guilt. Not necessarily towards this man…but for his child. I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders and placed squarely upon my soul.

And I decide that I don’t want this man to rot in prison for life.

I decide that I believe he wants to change his ways. To make something of himself and to be his baby’s daddy.

I decide to give him another chance. It’s not his second change, or even his third, but it is his child’s only chance.

“Yes we have.” I say for the second time. The last words of mine he will ever hear.

Ten years isn’t that long, right? Good behavior can maybe cut it down to five or six? That’s before junior high for someone who is 5 now. Right?

It’s the best I could do for this child. And it is likely more than the father deserves. But if being busted multiple times and returning to jail and prison doesn’t change someone’s ways, I think the only hope is the smile of a child. The knowledge that those eyes are looking at everything you do and learning how to live life from what they see in you… The knowledge that you have a clean slate with the only person who truly matters.

Well if that can’t straighten you out, then I don’t know what can.

And now my part in this is done.

I was excited at 8:00 Monday morning…the thrill of the trial. Guilt or Innocence?
But I have come home a changed person.

I hugged my wife, and I kissed my daughter. I thanked the world for all that I have and for treating me well.

And I thought…

God Dammit! Next time, can’t it just be a jaywalker or something?

A diversion into memory.

Ok, so I've been getting pretty serious with my blog lately, so I'm thinking tonight will be a little laid back.

I have been inspired to write again. There has been a lot of live performance and beautiful artistry in my life, and my recent visit with my two incredibly musical brothers has ignited that old flame that I though was dead.

To start off, I will right a poem. I will ask my wife for a word to be my theme. brb.

Ok, the word is purple. Thanks Heather! Sorry to have interrupted Project Runway! :(

Enjoy, and thank you for reading.




I see in you my eyes glimmering softly

that same child's smile that I remember from so long ago is greeting me once again

the ten fingers and the ten toes, treading adeptly on the driveway and in the mud

are only newer versions of mine that did so long ago





I have walked the same paths as you

I have spoke the same words and cried the same tears as you

I have kissed my mother's lips in love and held my father's hands in comfort

just as when you wish goodnight or experience pain





But for all I know you and I share

for all of the experiences that complete our bond

I know that time will cut your mold and allow you to drain from that which I am

and form into a soul with its own dimensions, with its own character and finesse





I know that you will prefer to stand in the places I sat

I hope that you will run at the moments I walked, and stare boldly ahead when I flinched

your progress will take you not from me, but to a place just as special and important

and I will always carry with me the reminders of this time





I see in you my eyes glimmering softly

and that mischievous smile is telling me to be on my guard

your favorite color in front of us on the paper shows our family, all with faces and stick legs

and i know you'll always be my little girl




emmett h. buhmann


8-26-2010

Being A Grownup: Part 1

WARNING!

SAPPY-ROMANTIC-NOSTALGIC ALERT!!

NAVIGATE AWAY NOW, FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY!!!

It was a strange weekend. I was reminded, somewhat inadvertently, of...

Well, of lots of things.

The sanctity of marriage for one. Why I chose for my partner the woman I did, and why (though times are not always ideal) we have weathered the storm and helped each other through our various troubles. Why am I in Lubbock Texas? I could have gotten a job wherever I wanted while my wife went to school. People do it all the time!

Well why, eight years ago, was she in Midland Texas with me, leaving behind all that she knew? Then it was because we were "young" and "crazy" and "Madly in LOOOOOOVE!" We had no plan. We were on an adventure, and the glass was the color of roses. It was the great experiment, and our relationship was tested. Those tests showed us that we could do it.

Through the years and the moves and the marriage and the debt and the fights and the parenthood and the changes, it is sure that the glass has faded somewhat. Now its more like we are "getting older" and "freaking out a little" and "i love you..." with a goodbye kiss in the morning, if there's time. The exciting unplanned adventure has turned into a highly controlled and micromanaged panic attack, skating through the adult years with the hope that it will all pay off someday.

So why am I here? Is it for the money? (Don't even get me started!) Is it for the culture? Is it for the opportunity? Is it for the career advancement? No. I came here to companion the woman I Love. I came here to raise my daughter build a family. I am here to be the support system that she was for me. Regardless of how wonderful of a time we are (or are not) having, we are in this together.

While I am here I vowed to do my damnedest to keep my skills alive and pad my resume until we can both go on to our dream jobs. Luckily my resume is being "padded" from a job that I love and am passionate about, and I am working with people who are in this for the same reasons as me, because we love what we do. It is this serendipitous collaborative environment that has made my transition here significantly more bearable. The skills and connections I have gathered over the last year, and in the years to come will serve me for the rest of my life. But it is the commitment to my wife and family that drives all of this, and I must always remember that none of it is worth anything without them by my side.

I Love You Heather, though at times it might be hard to see past the immediacy of whatever situation we might be facing. Whatever it takes, I am convinced that we will come away from it all covered perhaps with shit, but smelling like roses. Because you are my flower...

I was going to rattle on more about things like what it means to get older, how your priorities change, and just how awkward it is to be the only married parent in a group of single, young people out for a good time, but I feel this last little bit of exploration was cathartic enough.

I seem to have almost nailed down a regular theme for this blog though...somewhat narcissistic yet insightful snippets into my life that, in a way, convey some universal truth that I am very keenly and specifically privy to. Eh?

See you next time.

~Emmett

Every time a bell rings...

Mortality is a fickle friend. We all live with it each and every day, but rarely does it stand up and smack us in the face. Recently however, we've kind of been bitch slapped.

I think about my wife's grandparents, who have begun passing away over the last few years, and my daughter who will grow up hearing only stories of them. I think of my grampa who has been on the edge of life for quite some time now, and who's passing will be profoundly sad, yet a great relief in many ways. I wonder how much knowledge and experience is kept captive in his vessel, unable to be communicated? Soon, it will all be lost. I think about my Aunt whom I never truly got to say goodbye to.

Recently a good friend and employer of mine was taken...not completely away, but much too close for comfort. This man is about the same age as my dad, and is suffering from congestive heart failure. Though he has only been a part of my life for a short time, he has effected me in more ways than I can express. In a profound moment of strength a collegue compaired my friend to the fictional George Baily, wondering aloud "how much would not have happened if Don had not been here?" How much?

How much is enough to measure?

I would not have a job...

or better yet, I would not be fulfilled in my professional life.

Perhaps I would never have seen the twinkle in the eyes of a man who absolutely loves what he does and the people with whom he works. I would never have recieved the encouragement to press my own boundaries and discover a new level of personal and professional expression. I would never have found what is effectively my home away from home.

Though death is painful, and difficult or impossible to rationalize away, what brings me solice is the memory of life. The tactile and emotional experiences shared with our loved ones. I remember my Aunt's fried chicken, and her beautiful smile and her hair. I remember my grampa's war stories, his calm quiteness and how he NEVER let you sit in his seat at the dinner table!

This time, in my immediate life, a potnetial loss has been channeled into a rallying cry of strength, with a community coming together in a way I have never seen, arm in arm to help my friend thought his darkest hour. As he has gained strenght from us, we in turn have gained strength from him. I have learned that the real lessons in life come not from how one deals with loss, but from how one takes advantage of the time we all are given.

With that, I must go and run around in the grass with my child. Perhaps I will take a photograph so that we both can remember...

Rainy Daze

It's Raining. A lot. The rumor I have heard is that this is Alex's last sputtering breath...What I know first hand is that today has become a great day for movie watchin' and hot cocoa drinkin'! And apparently, blog writing.

I have been pontificating over this for a while. "What is this blog about?" "Who is my audience?" "What am I going to say?" I think I've found that my answer is...I don't know. I'm a husband and father, and that experience will definitely color this commentary. I displaced professional. As an artist I am in need of more study...of enrichment and focus in art and music. As a nerd I am a student of space and military history. I am a son and a brother to a family that I see only much too rarely. I am full of hopes, dreams, plans, anticipations, regrets, & fears. I work really hard, but at what expense?

To pay the bills, or to see my daughter mature? That is the question!

So, as a start to this process I will say...Hello! I look forward to seeing where this experience takes me. It is strange to do such a self indulgant thing as journaling in such a public format, but perhaps this will provide the appropriate catharsis needed to move to the next phase in my existance.

For now, the first step is to crawl under the big dolphin blanket, cuddle with the munchkin, and waste the day with Willy Wonka and Toy Story. I'll talk to you again later.

~Emmett