What I’ve Learned

Inspired by Esquire Magazine

There is so much more, but this is as fine a start as I have in me.

My maternal grandfather was a deranged lunatic in the best possible way. Pure absurdist. He’d babysit me and concoct bizarre punishments for imaginary body parts. One time, he brandished a spatula and declared he was going to “flabidate my zingledapper.” I idolized the man.

When you get the chance, hop on a train. Any train. It doesn’t matter where it’s going. Trains are good for the soul, a refuge from the lunacy of everyday life.

I’m trying to keep in mind that everyone, everywhere, is genuinely doing their best at any given moment. Even if that’s bullshit, I lose nothing and gain everything by believing it.

I used to thrive on oppositional provocation. It was a disease, a virus I picked up from my mother and stepfather during my formative years. Being told I couldn’t do something because I lacked the talent was like jet fuel to my ambition. Now, retired from military life, I have to provoke myself. It’s a real bastard.

You don’t know when you’re losing your mind. When you feel like you’re losing your mind, you’re not. When it’s actually lost, you think you’re the sanest person in the room.

Here’s an unpopular truth: sometimes violence is the answer. All of the military forces on this planet are built on this principle. It’s all about context, and context is a treacherous motherfucker.

Sometimes, dropping a well-placed “motherfucker” into a sentence is exactly what’s needed.

I never felt more complete than when I was teaching. In Hebrew, “rabbi” means master and teacher, the holiest of professions. I always thought a public service announcement styled like a sports introduction would be killer: “And now, from the University of Pennsylvania, standing at five-foot-six, teaching AP English for the 30th consecutive year, making 39 grand a year, MRS. RUTH ZEISLOFTTTTTTTTTTTT.”

I left home at 18 and never really looked back. My mother’s family still sees me as the rail-thin kid I was when I left. They’re stuck in a time warp of arrested development.

Me? I’m on to the next adventure. 

I was a terrible father at first and for years after that. My daughter, upon reaching adolescence, called me out on my shit, and she was right to do so. She made me better. She was more emotionally intelligent at 16 than I was at 26 or 36.

People dive into artistic pursuits because they have remarkable taste. They often quit because they judge their work as inferior to their idols. The trick is to keep going. Keep. Fucking. Going.

Good-looking people are a dime a dozen, and I couldn’t care less. I’d much rather listen to someone passionately discuss what they love and find fascinating.

I know for a fact that I’m the villain in many tales told by people I know. What others think of me is none of my business, but I’ll apologize if it clears the air. If it doesn’t, then they can fuck themselves.

“Fuck ‘em. Shortest prayer in the world.” - Gary Oldman

I had a mentor who handed out gifts and sent cards for no reason other than to show he was thinking of you. I admired that and, before I knew it, I became that.

“Humor, skill, wit, sex appeal. In that order,” said Robert Redford. Damn right, Bob. Damn right.

No matter how far removed, a Sailor will always look with love and longing toward the sea. 

No one cares how big a military stick you swung after the uniform comes off. This is right and proper because a lot of those sons of bitches defined themselves by their life in service. There’s a lot more life to live. 

Time and salt water are undefeated. There’s no arguing with that.

I haven’t read all the books in my home library, and I might never will. That’s beside the point. A home library is like a wine collection; when the moment is right, the bottle will be opened. The point is, it’s there. Zen wine and books.

The meaning of life? It’s to give life meaning. If that means having a family, fine. If it means working for yourself, great. Travel, education, music… you’re on the right track. Just drench it in meaning. Make it overflow with significance.

I had to accept an apology that never came from my mother and stepfather. They don’t have it in them to admit fault and apologize, so I did the heavy lifting. No regrets—I’m not drinking that poison anymore.

Listen to more music. More? Yes, more. Always more.

People who introduce you to new music are shamans and should be protected at all costs. 

American history is a wild, tangled mess, a swamp of myths and half-truths that only gets murkier the deeper you wade in. Especially when it comes to the brutal realities of African American and Native history, you have to actively unlearn what they've hammered into your skull. The bastards who bury the truth, the real skullfuckers, need to be dragged into the light and run out of town—every last one of them, from the classrooms to the halls of power. It's time to clear the rot and let the real stories breathe.

I believe in a fierce, unrelenting critique of my country. I believe in an unvarnished, brutal accounting of events. And yes, I still love this chaotic, beautiful mess of a nation. These are not contradictory thoughts, but rather the essence of true patriotism.

I want the cash without the circus. Brad Pitt once complained about photographers climbing his fence to get photos of his newborn. Brad’s from Missouri and climbing someone’s fence in Missouri, as it is in Detroit, is a top-tier way to find yourself shot in several places. Madonna’s security guy once told me she can’t go to a movie or get a coffee without a security detail. Fuck all that. I crave the freedom that money brings, but I want to keep my anonymity intact.

On the surface, my luck is shit. In the long run of my timeline, I’ve lucked out so fucking hard it boggles my mind. It’s hard to remember that fact. 

I used to tell my Sailors before port visits just how profoundly lucky the bastards were. My boilerplate sounded something like this: You’re from Des Moines. You have to admit the likelihood of you being in Rio again is slim at best. If I catch you in line at McDonalds you’re going to find yourself in a fight. You can get a beer and a burger anywhere. This is special. Treat it as such. 

My heroes were all dead before I understood the idea of heroes, so I didn’t have the problem of meeting them and facing disappointment. Except for Bugs Bunny. Bugs is still out there somewhere, looking for the turn-off toward Albuquerque. 

Some people have never been punched in the face. This is both right and wrong for a wide variety of reasons. The people I love and respect the most have been punched and they act accordingly.

The friends I had then are the friends I have now.