The Brand of Me

I’ve just sat down for a cupp’r with an old friend of mine, and we’ve been talking about life, the universe and everything; mostly according to own lives. He’s been very successful at running his own company for a while and I’ve been dogging it in my current job for just over two years.

I see what he’s doing with his company. He’s got his own set of headaches and problems, but I realize that they’re his; he owns them. Me, I’m dealing with other people’s headaches. They’re not mine, but unfortunately, I’ve made them mine. I’ve picked up the proverbial cross that didn’t really even belong to me and taken it up the long road of Golgotha. But I really understand why now.

I wasn’t ready.

Here’s the thing. I’ve spent the last several years being everyone else’s man. And to a certain extent, I like that. I like being a help to others. But its always been on other people’s terms. A lot of it had to do with money. Being a dad who makes the money for the family is difficult enough. But being a separated/divorced dad who makes the money can be doubly hard. I see my kids less and I pay more out. It’s almost a lose/lose. Considering I just spent the last several years paying off all the consumer debt that I, as one half of a married unit, accumulated, on top of the support I pay out, I’m surprised that I wasn’t falling over more under the heavy weight.

In spite of all that, the debt is now gone. And through this wonderful and insightful conversation I just had, I’ve realized that it’s now time for me to become me. I’ve just turned forty and my life is half over. I can’t wait any longer. I need to become my brand. I need to rejoin the race and run it hard.

So, here I am: Eldon Letkeman. What can I do for you?

Deleting Rachel

This is a story I write about three years ago. So, in an attempt to populate my site with content, I give you Deleting Rachel.

Thomas stood in his kitchen wearing a happy face and five days unshaven; a stark contrast to the black suit and red tie that he wore. He smiled fake as people wandered; talking to each other about uninteresting things. He didn’t blame them. He didn’t want to talk about what brought them there as he stared at the photo he could see in the other room. Rachel.

We’re all here for her. She’d have liked that.

The last people left; strangers Rachel must have known. They said goodbye and he closed the door, relieved at last for the silence. He removed his coat and tie and walked back into the kitchen, silently noting he had messages on his answering machine.

Thomas pressed the button.

“You have three new messages.”

Continue reading “Deleting Rachel”