OMGabe

by Gabe Berman – the author of Live Like a Fruit Fly

Archive for the category “memories”

Reflections On Reflections

Looking for reasons not to give us the money we asked for, two guys with bad teeth and beer bellies inspected my dad’s car with staged faces of disapproval.

We haggled for a minute, for old time’s sake, but quickly agreed on a price and shook on it.

My mom cried a little.

I couldn’t watch them drive it away.

I know I’m not the first son to write about his dead father’s car so I’ll spare you from what’s already been said so many times. But c’mon, you know how it is, part of his soul was in that damn thing.

While I was riding shotgun, he’d point to some woman in the street and say, “Do you know her?”

And like a slight-of-hand magician who masterfully misdirects the audience, he’d quickly press the button for my heated seat as I looked away. In the middle of the summer. And I’d sit there, with my ass on fire, instead of giving in to the fact that he got me.

Bastard.

Before we sold the car yesterday, my sister called and asked me to look under the driver’s side seat for toothpicks. So I got on my hands and knees and found a few for her.

My dad’s old toothpicks.

A little gross maybe, but after Hurricane Sandy had her way with almost everything in the house, they’re just about the only things we have left of his. That, and our DNA.

Our hands are (were) so different though. His were thick and powerful from working with them for most of his life while mine are, to be honest, fit for a yoga class. And while I’ve been driving his car around for the last year or so, I’d often look at my hands on the steering wheel and think of his.

It’s kind of like when I get my haircut now. I’ve been going to his barber since I’ve been back here in New York. An old Cuban lady he liked a lot.

I sit in her chair and look at myself in the mirror and I think about what he might have been thinking about as he looked at himself in the same mirror.

In the reflection of the reflection in the mirror behind me, you can see the tuxedo place across the street where my dad and I rented tuxedos for my sister’s wedding. I cried happily that day but as I write this now, my tears have a different tone.

I’m sitting at the dining room table, listening to Time Out by Dave Brubeck. My dad’s all time favorite album.

Years ago when I wrote for the Miami Herald, I’d come home for a visit and procrastinate the days away until needing to pull an all-nighter to get my column in before deadline. I’d write right here at this table and my dad would wake up at around four in the morning to ask me how I was doing.

My parents were proud of me then.

I know this is totally getting off topic, but hopefully my dad is looking down on me now and has finally realized that it’s not always easy being me.

Anyway, my mom already has a boyfriend. And I guess I have the right to be a prick about it, but I remember to take the high road instead. I’m just happy she’s happy again.

She certainly deserves to be.

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

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Let It Be

I woke up sad today.

Which, to be completely candid, isn’t exactly a new thing for me.

But instead of trying to busy myself with busyness to feel less blue, I broke routine by lacing up my kicks and taking a walk around the old neighborhood.

I waved to people.

Some waved back.

I paused by the dock where my dad kept his boat.

I listened to birds chirp.

I love how birds don’t think to themselves, “Maybe I should chirp now.”

They just stand there in trees, with their little bird feet, and chirp.

I wish I can be just to be.

I wish that for all of us.

Maybe it’s time to get out the old Zamboni and clear a path.

A path with even less resistance.

Because, as it’s been said, resistance is futile.

As always, we shall see what unfolds next.

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

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Time Travel Sucks

I almost hit a woman with my car today.

Intentionally.

I pulled into the post office and some woman was standing in the only available spot, talking to another woman parked in the adjacent spot.

I didn’t want to be rude with a typical hitting of the horn, so I just idled there, motionless, with a body length between us.

You’d think the grumbling hole in the muffler would have awakened her to my dangerously close, four thousand pound SVU, but, alas, she didn’t bat a fucking eyelash.

What to do, what to do?

A friendly neighborhood tappity-tap honk?

Rev the engine?

Pin her to the side of the building with my bumper?

Since the post office was closing in five minutes and twenty-three seconds and I really needed to mail something to Los Angeles, I decided to just sit there and wait it out like a passive aggressive asshole.

Miss princess finally figured out that she was on the losing end of a physics equation, so she finally got out of the way.

She offered the I’m sorry wave and once again apologized once we were both inside.

“I went to high school with that woman and now our kids go to high school together.”

To be friendly, I asked her what school.

East Rockaway High School.

I went to the nearby Lynbrook High and I’m not sure why I did, but I heard myself offering her this information.

“Do your kids go there now,” she asked.

My kids?

I almost turned around like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver to see if there was someone standing behind me.

How could she be taking to me?

My kids? I’m just a kid myself.

Wait, what’s that you say?

I’m forty-one?

Really?

No.

No way.

Shit. You’re right.

How in God’s name could this have happened?

Lets review…I remember jumping into the fountain at my college graduation, I blinked a few times, and here I am, innocently in line at the post office.

Twenty years.

Poof.

While everyone else was buying houses, losing their hair and having kids, I was…

Well..

I really don’t know what I was doing.

Surviving I guess.

Statistics say that I must have experienced some joy in between, but it definitely wasn’t enough.

I don’t feel, in the moment, that it was enough.

But that’s the price I paid for rocking Status Quo’s cruise ship.

Would I do it again if presented with the same set of choices?

Of course.

Because I’d be blind to other alternatives.

It’s carve my own path, or perish.

Does this path lead to joy?

I sure as hell hope so.

Regardless, I’ll keep on bringing it to others so I know this long, strange trip hasn’t been in vain.

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

 

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Flux Capacitor

Raiders of the Lost Ark is the only movie my dad and I saw twice in the theater together.

I was nine. My dad was a year younger than I am now.

Remember in the tent when that nazi, the creepy one dressed in all black with the burnt hand, pulls out the Bruce Lee/nunchucku device that ends up being a coat hanger?

My dad and I simultaneously looked over at each other and said without saying anything, “Oh my God, this is going to get good.”

I’m thinking about this now because the theme song from Raiders shuffled through my iPad as I was checking email at the kitchen table this morning.

Directly across from where my dad used to sit.

If I had a DeLorean, I’d get that bad boy up to 88 mph and revisit that moment right now.

Maybe we’d buy popcorn this time instead of sneaking it in from home as we often did.

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

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For Everyone Alone On Valentine’s Day

I have such sympathy for people who feel alone.

I used to feel that way, and it’s awful.

You stand there in CVS, looking at everyone picking out Valentine’s Day cards, and you think, “Why not me?”

It sucks. I know.

But to that I say, as I would say to just about anything else, all in due time.

If you’ve been patiently waiting for your soulmate for forever, what I’m about to tell you isn’t going to make you feel any better about it. Nevertheless, it doesn’t make it less true.

You’re not alone.

It’s scientific fact. We’re all connected and it’s unequivocally proven by physicists worldwide.

The separation you sense is pure illusion.

If you allow yourself to become aware of this, if you allow yourself to know this, maybe, just maybe, you won’t be “alone” for much longer.

This is an aspect of the law of attraction. And the law of attraction isn’t something you get to believe in or not. It’s as real – as gravity.

Happy Valentine’s Day. From me to you (me).

love/thanks,
gabe (you)

“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” —Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

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My Dad Killed My Math Teacher

The last words to come from my math teacher’s lips were, “Gabe is a really good kid.”

It was open school night and I was in the sixth grade.

I was home, watching TV with my sister, and all of the parents in the neighborhood were walking from classroom to classroom.

My dad introduced himself to my math teacher. They shook hands.

Immediately after saying, “Gabe is a really good kid,” my math teacher dropped to the floor like Sonny Liston.

He died right there at my dad’s feet. Massive heart attack.

Hopefully, they’re up there now, laughing about it.

But probably not.

In all likelihood, they see each other from time to time in Heaven’s Cafeteria. It’s a 24-hour joint. They politely nod, but that’s about it.

My math teacher sits at a table with his family and my dad sits with ours.

Jimi Hendrix is hanging with Jesus at an adjacent table.

Jesus gets hit with a spitball and says, “Hey, what the…?”

My dad keeps his classic straight face and avoids making contact with the big guy.

Jesus silently forgives him.

And so have I, for every time he got mad at me, my mom, or my sister for apparently no justified reason.

I now know he was doing the best he could at the time.

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

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The Old Man And The Aide

I saw an old man with his aide in front of a beauty supply store.

She intended to open the door for him but he said, “I can get it.”

He was a gentleman in his blue jeans, plaid shirt, Members Only-ish jacket and pair of Hush Puppies.

The heavy door resisted his initial pull, but in the end, it was no match for his determination and it relented.

His aide smiled graciously and he followed her into the store.

With ease, I opened the door to the adjacent Starbucks.

But that old man is me. He is you. If we’re fortunate enough to avoid the slings and arrows of life, he’s our fate.

You’d think we’d be kinder to others now. You’d think we’d be kinder to ourselves.

But greed breeds fear and spreads the gospel of not-enoughness. It seems we have no choice but to run rampant like rats in an unwinable rat-race and squander our youthfulness in pursuit of the illusion of future security.

But we do have a choice. We can choose to choose kindness. We can choose to choose to be grateful for the little things. Because trust me, they turn out to be the only things that matter.

The future is now. It shapes itself through you.

With love and thanks,
gabe

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com – the question that haunts us and the answer that helps us heal

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Time Traveling

I’m sitting at a table covered by an umbrella in the courtyard of an outdoor shopping center.

There’s a flowing fountain surrounded by flowers and folks on vacation who can’t stop taking photos.

I’m armed with a venti iced coffee and there’s an old man at the adjacent table who traded reading his newspaper for people-watching.

This could easily be me in forty years.

I hope he had a good life so far.

I hope I have no regrets at the end of mine.

http://www.BullshitFreeWritingGuide.com

http://www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

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Riders On The Storm

Ray Manzarek, the keyboardist from The Doors and coolest cat in the universe, died today of bile duct cancer. He was seventy-four.

Are you fucking kidding me man?

I’m sick of this already. Cancer is getting to be like the goddamn common cold.

But you know we can beat it, right?

If this great country of ours, with all of its wealth and ingenuity, decided to eradicate cancer, we would. It’s that simple.

In 1903, we were the first to fly. And just sixty-six years later, we landed on the moon.

How? We promised ourselves as a nation we would.

We are the lizard kings and if we want, we can do anything.

We just have to want it bad enough. We have to turn all attention to it. Even if it isn’t entirely profitable. But obviously, as of now, it isn’t a priority.

Hopefully our priorities will change soon.

Change before it’s too late.

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A Letter To Phillip Phillips

I’m sorry I’ve only recently realized this, but “Home” is one of the sweetest, sunniest, most perfect tunes I’ve ever heard.

What caused the delay in my discovery? C’mon man, you’re from Idol. And, well, you know…

Anyway…I listen to this song over and over again while I drive back and forth from Starbucks. Because it’s rock music, and because of the way my head is screwed on, I always assumed you were singing to a specific girl.

But tonight as I was in the car, my soul perked its ears up and it heard something completely different.

Maybe you’re not singing to a girl. Maybe it’s not even you singing in the song. Maybe, just maybe, it’s someone singing to you. Who? You know who.

God.

Listen to your lyrics:

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave (wave) is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m gonna make this place your home

Settle down, it’ll all be clear
Don’t pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m gonna make this place your home

Even if I’m wrong about this on the surface, I’m right.

Thank you for reminding us that we’re not alone,
gabe

My new book is out: The Complete Bullshit-Free and Totally Tested Writing Guide: How To Make Publishers, Agents, Editors & Readers Fall In Love With Your Work

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