..::On Kenosis::..

He used to bring his kids to this beach.

Though he would never let it on, at one time this very spot served as a weekend getaway for his family. A lazy Saturday at the beach once a quarter that was intended to chip away at the division arising between him and his loved ones. This was about all he was able to give. It’s impossible to rally much enthusiasm for familial relations after putting in a dozen hours of work each and every day. These outings were his futile skirmishes with the uncomfortable conversations and abbreviated encounters that had become the norm rather than the exception within his home.

The sacrifice one makes to sustain a lifestyle in hopes of sustaining a family is a monument to irony.

The american dream: a sixty-hour workweek, and loveless family.

His mouth now serves as a vault to the memory of these days. Those moments when his jaws clench and lips cower from the inner unrest of a mind trampled upon by fleeting happiness and surmounting remorse come regularly upon him as the faces of his children cinematically plague his thoughts. The fodder of his former life plague this man whose wife had had enough and whose children who had had too little.

Regret is best served silent he supposes, so he keeps to himself. No kind words or friendly gestures can scathe his defenses as he denies any offer of assistance. The occasional crumpled dollar bill or clanking of change on the ground at his feet mock his plight. He has all the money he needs, but no family to share it with.

At least not any more.

He subjects himself to this daily routine of scrounging for scraps or the occasional aluminum can in the trash bins dotting the perimeter of this familiar beach area. Not because he needs to, but because he ought to. Maybe it’s the penance he deserves for being the father and husband who simply couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Or maybe he’s making up for all those Saturday’s he wished he'd spent here flying kites and building sand castles rather than trying to support his family.

Is he really all that guilty?

jared.

Labels: short stories

Posted by jared slack at Tuesday, August 07, 2007 | Permalink | Comments

My friend, Jonathan, and I took a trip up to Hedley Texas to do a youth rally. He preached and I played. It was a good time.

In an effort to be more creative, I took my digital camera. I took some photos and captured a few funny moments from the ride up there.

Here is the video:

Labels: video

Posted by jared slack at Monday, August 06, 2007 | Permalink | Comments

Two pudgy feet peek out from under their haven of matching G.I. Joe covers and find themselves recklessly drooped over the side of the bed. While this may not seem like much, the miraculous nature of this moment cannot be overlooked. It seems that yet again the newness of the day has dispelled any of the previous night’s fear of the monster underneath. This ineffable beast with the propensity to seize any appendage carelessly dangled over the edge is incredibly efficient in its task of squelching any small child’s desire for a glass of water or a trip to the bathroom. But somehow the morning provides the antidote for these irrepressible phobias, and as if by routine or some unknown compulsion the toes belonging to those fearless feet begin delicately tracing the corners of the large chest found at the edge of the bed containing the day’s entertainment. Toes dancing back and forth, sliding gently from cold metal to smooth wood and back again provide a rudimentary cadence to the process of waking up. These first few moments are spent shaking off sleep and reintroducing your self to the world...

“Your name is Jared Dwayne Slack. You’re 9 and you hate your middle name. You are lying in your bed, in your room, and as you can probably tell by the posters, you like Bo Jackson and four-wheelers. The sounds coming from outside your door are probably your mom making breakfast. You like her. It’s mostly because she smells good and kisses you goodnight, but be careful not to make her mad. Your brother is in the room next to yours. You share a bathroom and a closet. You hate him. He thumps your ears. Your dad is probably at work. You don’t know what he does for a living. You should probably find that out. While you don’t like the black jellybeans, your dad does. It’s weird how that worked out, but use it to your advantage. Just so you know, you like to play with LEGO’s and G.I. Joes. You’re beginning to think that Transformers are where it’s at, but you aren’t ready to give in to the hype. Your favorite TV show is the Mickey Mouse Club. You’re in love with the girl who lives down the street. You should consider the benefits of getting a new haircut because no one takes the bowl-cut seriously. You aren’t as good at playing basketball as you are at baseball, but everyone in the neighborhood prefers football so it really doesn’t matter. You are funny, intelligent, and like to tell stories. One day the girls will love you...”

GET UP.

Labels: short stories

Posted by jared slack at Wednesday, August 01, 2007 | Permalink | Comments