Matthew Lyle Landsman

Too much this’n and not enough that’n
Too much pitchin’ and not enough battin’
All that bare headin’, and too little hattin’
Too much mud slingin’, and not enough back pattin’
All this finger pointin’ and very little hand shakin’
We need more singin’ and a passel more caring
A lot less cringin’ and a whole lot more daring
A bunch more listening and no more cursin’ and swearing
Less walkin’ alone and instead, strollin’ with a hand to hold
Too much hatin’…too much of even the liberal use of that word
More compassion, more holdin’ and givin’
Less livin’ like we’re dyin’ and best to be dyin’ to be livin’, and lovin’…and cherishing
Too much gamblin’, and too little faithin’
Way more mindless chatter than old fashioned prayin’
Too much leavin’, and not near enough stayin’
All this actin’ up and hardly any behavin’
Hey friends…I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin…

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Sometime next week will mark the passing of a very relevant occasion in this life of mine. On January 31, 1987 I was arrested for a DUI on my way home from a birthday celebration for a friend. Several days later, facing all the collateral damage of accepting the charges, losing my license, and also favor of my status as custodial parent to my then five year old son…I chose to plea for a deferred sentence, a two year program to heal my soul, and make a fresh start. On or about February 9th, 1987 I was at lunch with an old friend. I turned down a cocktail with my meal and instead had a simple soda water with a twist of lime. I informed the waitress in a private moment that I’d decided to be clean and sober. She said she had recently done the same…So began my journey of real life, real emotions, real tilling of the soul that had been my home for growth, or the lack thereof.
I knew without a doubt that if I had chosen to continue on the way I had been, that my life at a mere 28 years would soon be over and my child would have been fatherless.
And I never touched another drop. Not for 29 years now, over half of my life. Is my life great? Sometimes. Is my life easy? Rarely. Is my life a windfall of great earnings and opulence? Hardly. Have I found the love of my life? Many times. What I do have in the bank and in my heart is life itself. One day, sometimes one hour at a time. I have no guarantees other than the fact time will continue to pass, with or without me.
Is my health well and worry free? Far from it. But it is MY health to be concerned over and struggle with, come what may. Good or bad, it is me, alive and among those walking above ground. I have overcome much difficulty and challenge. Much adversity and frustration. I still am. But the key here, is that I’m alive, striving, trying, and trying to make the world around me better. The lives of those around me better.
I still have issues with alcohol. More specifically; those in my life who drink and are overflowing with issues and toxicity because of their intake. Without having had a drop in near to thirty years, I have fought with the demons of those others. I have used their ineptitude as my incentive to continue on sober. I have no issues with happy drinkers. I actually prefer some folks loosen up a tad and join me in my mostly jovial state…and a couple libations often do the trick.
I’m not against alcohol per se. What I am against is its abusers, and their ultimate abuse of others. I hate mean drunks. Remorseless drunks. Rationalizing drunks. Blame passing drunks. Omniscient drunks (who by the way are anything but). Belligerence drunks. Controlling, bullying drunks. Angry drunks. Drunks in vehement denial that they are in fact drunks, and are of the opinion they have their drinking “under control”. There is a word for that state. And I call it, “BULLSHIT”.
February is the month I celebrate my most relevant birthday. The one that I chose healing, more sound mental health, kindness to others, to listen, to care, to be a part of the solutions, and not the problem. But mostly, for the past twenty nine years, I have chosen LIFE itself, over certain death and the collateral damage that mine would put upon others. My life is far from pain free, but it is in fact; life. And that’s a fine place to begin again, every morning. Matthew Lyle.

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In my corner, it is often dark, mostly simple, chilled and stark. In my corner, I’m not so sure what to think of it all…or whether to look to the distance or turn and face the wall. In my corner I wonder if I ought to seek refuge there, or to seek escape.
In my corner, I often see you and some others there. And I make note of those absentees. Like a storm cloud off in the distance, some avoid the idea of weathering the storm, and yet others seek it and offer shelter from the deluge…and wait it out with the others.
In my corner there are seldom tears. But in the quiet might go unnoticed, a silent wail and a quiet vigil there. In my corner lays a stack of words…some I’ve shared and some unheard. In my corner one sits on the floor and stands by chair.
In my corner, I’m often not there. Instead I can be found in yours, where I see all these things and even more. In my corner, you are welcome, but you may have to linger in wait, until I return from theirs…Matthew.

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She: I’ve been working hard to not fall down. It’s been tough.
he: I felt broken today. Took the night off of work
she: I know the feeling. I took two days off last week. Spent one of the days mostly just crying.

he: …and you know, when we’re doing God’s work and do fall sometimes…we land very softly. Angels keep us from crashing down.
Then, just act as if you meant to be there…like you were picking something up. And a feather will appear in your hand.
Angels lose feathers. Especially Grandma Angels. I found one in the dash of my little car.

she: I like that
he: Of course you do…because it is true. AND I just now wrote it just for you.
But I may share it with the world. ‘Cause that’s how God works.
Go and have a good night. Your Uncle loves you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much! (arms opened all the way)
she: Ditto. Sleep well.

he: Of Angels and feathers; that’s all the proof I need.

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Looking forward, and hoping to find only all that’s ahead of me…and not what’s been left behind.

Matthew.

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Just a few hours of snow, and some rains that did freeze. A frigid wind, that faded to breeze. A bit of slippin’ and slidin’, then hot cocoa did the storm to ease.
Then came dawn, and the promise of sun. A morning of skating, then the promise was won.

the melt…

A not so distant memory of the chill that I felt. Now in the moment of noon, nature sings a chorus from the eaves and trees. She sings the songs of the melt.
Stay warm my friends, in your heart and your cheeks.
For the love of the sun and the Son. Have a glorious winter afternoon, Matty

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If you should strain to listen for me on a soft warm breeze, you won’t hear me. But I’ll find you when you aren’t listening. And I shall whisper, I shall sing with you…our favorite songs. I’ll read a line from that book; the one that we made our own. Don’t listen for me, and I’ll find you no matter where the breezes may blow. They will always carry me to you.

…I’ll be on the breeze

When you walk some days, to nowhere special, and have little on your mind, except the tasks of the day, a call to make, a bill to pay…I’ll join you then and put a song in your heart. And your step will grow lighter and a smile will come sneakin’ and make your eyes brighter. And even if others are watching, right there on the sidewalk of a crowded avenue…that’s me there with you, and we’ll dance. Just like before, as it always has been. I’ll be your happy feet, you and me together friend.

…happy feet!

Come midnight, I’ll rustle your curtain and be the song that fills your room when you first turn on your tunes. I’ll be subtle. I’ll be loud. I’ll be a whisper in the midst of a crowd. I’ll be there on a misty morn…hiding in plain sight. Walk with me and speak aloud. I will echo your words, especially when you sing.

Hidin’ in plain sight…

I’ve taken your love with me, and promise to share it with others. That way they can return it to you over time. You’ll know it when the moments come…please open your heart again. I’m always right here.
My heart still beats, my eyes still shine. My face still lights up with a smile when you cross my mind. I still read the pages time and again. And sing along with every line. Please do the same, with others too. I know you’ll always remember me, and I shan’t forget a thing about you. But do sing, and do dance. Love can be found most anywhere, so do keep your heart open, and soft. It will find you, as you found me. Don’t listen for me. I’ll find you no matter where the breezes may blow. They will always carry me to you. I love you so…

I’m not sad where I am. I am whole and filled always with all the love that comes my way. The breezes are sweet, the rains are warm. The flowers have the love of morning dew. And regardless of where I wander, the sun is always peeking my way, and I always find home ahead of the storm. Be glad for me. I’m here for you, and I’ll let the love overflowing me here find its way to you.

Princesses only please…

Celebrate the times whenever you please. I’ll see you one day, but not real soon. Bring your best shoes, and a pair of princess mouse ears, and your smile too love…’cause here, there are no tears. And we’ll dance, just like before…See ya!

(penned by Matty Landsman)

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Perhaps souls and soles are one and the same, if one might walk a while in another’s soles, and has opened his mind and heart…then one has truly walked in the soul of another…Empathy is a divine thing, of that I am convinced friend. I’m not so sure if your shoes or mine are dustier today, but I am sure that you’ve touched mine; sole and soul. MLL

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There is a light in a yonder window, that glows there all night long. There is a life behind that window blanketed in love, in care, and tiny hour songs. There is a breeze that softly blows, from Angel’s wings and heaven knows…a kindness abides where that window glows.

There’s a collective laughter, a buoyant prayer, a knowing sigh, and a whisper there. A quiet wishing, an asking why. And friends, and friends and family gather. They come and go and return anew. They hope and hold and support one another. I see a place where the window glows, and love abounds, and heaven knows…

And come what may, our Jordyn knows that faith prevails and the storms that rumble and rain that falls, are a reminder that tomorrows hold blossoms and life springing always in the desert beyond that window…where she prays to that same God for a life well of her own.

Behind that always illuminated pane and door, gather aunts, and cousins, and kinfolk there. Gather friends and family and well wishers there. Always a full table and a brimming glass, a fresh course of laughter and reassuring smiles exchanged. Where an air of hope and miracle reside…Perhaps the miracles are the life and love behind that softly lit window there…

And when I move away beyond that door, I shall never be same. Never so strong, nor so weak. Never so faith filled, or question filled. Never so solemn nor amazed.There is a breeze of that softly blows, from Angel’s wings and heaven knows…a kindness abides where that window glows.

I love your family my friend Kaye. Matty

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September 4, 2015

For our Karis Louise on a late summer day…until we meet again, here’s a message from Uncle Matt…

Where is the wind born and what is the sweet song it sings as it meets the trees and passes me here? Just where does she go? I know she sings a different song when she passes through the autumn leaves…then sings no more after those bows have shed their fall hues. Then she only whispers a solemn adieu.
Where do clouds come from? Perhaps from the seas, or the mountains beyond. Though you and others may often dread their coming, the sky mourns their passing…Why else would it become so empty and look so blue?
What makes the waves curl when they get near to the shore? Perhaps the joy of having traveled from beyond the horizon is so much to celebrate that they fight those last moments and the final yards…Yet they gather there and meld at the shore…then return to places beyond our sight and eventually come back for more…
Karis Louise, where did you go? Will I find you in those trees, or in that sky, or at a beach somewhere?
These are questions that perhaps only God and heaven know…
But I can tell you where Karis began.
Karis Louise…
As a new baby in the Lone Star State, first Gramma, then Papa held you before all others in the world…and it took their breath away.
Those eyes like the sea, and beautiful brown locks…that petite girl with her quiet smile, even in silence from across the room, could take our breath away.
And she did at times struggle, some moments tried, and thought, and fought for a string to pull, a button to push…for reasons to smile, to be proud, to be loved. And her passion took our breath away.
It is a world of give and take, of seeking balance, and taking leaps of faith.
A life of miracles and reasons to believe. Karis gave us Stevie, a wee one with a will as strong as a mighty river, and a heart that fluttered and blew about in the breeze. Yet he somehow more than managed to remain with us and grow stronger over time. The miracle multiplied. And it took our breath away.
There are things we face, wounds of the spirit, and injuries of our frames. Karis was no exception to life’s traumas and dramas. And over time, I witnessed her pain. Even to sit next to me there was sometimes a strain. I too have been touched by the tortures of the wounded discs and twisted frame. And we shared the couch and empathy, and it took our breath away.
Karis did smile that smile, and endure the moments and travel the miles. And she did say to me one day…in essence, that she was far too young to have grown so old. That mishaps in cars had beat her up so. She confided in me as she leaned on me…and I felt her struggle to maintain control between the relievers of pain, and the pains that accompanied relief. Both can shroud us and wick away the joys of life. And at times, I held my breath in hopes she could find relief without peril…but I came to realize what was possible for me, might not be for her. And my heart grew heavy with her suffering. And again, it took my breath away just to see her this way…
That Karis did love to give, and nurture, and protect was evident in her quests to rescue pets and people. That she had an infectious passion for doing so followed her through the years. And I have long been kept company by those critters, by her breezy ways.
And I myself was rescued at times by her kindness to this old uncle. By a quick phone call to her that always grew to an hour of grateful talk. By a text that lingered there with a buoyant message and sweetness…and I peeked at those notes time and again.
But time as it passes is not always kind. And the miracles can grow fewer, and mercies elusive. And the promises unkept by nature and chance…They mount and wait, till a collective dark cloud might visit in the night. And in this case, found her fast asleep and hopefully at peace, while it took the life breath and our Karis away.
And I’d like to believe that the person who first held her on earth, held her first in heaven too…
Karis Louise, also known as “Careless Leweegee”…I will so miss you girl. I’ll miss your sweet notes on Facebook, and your texts or calls to let me know that you’re “on Snoqualmie pass and will be at Papa’s in just a little while…”
I will miss you propping me up at times when I’ve needed propping, and hugging me when I’ve needed hugging. I will miss your unique way of saying; “I love you, Uncle Matt”.
Because Karis so loved the outdoors, the shores, the trees…the mountains and a place to run her pup (I call him “Sam-I-am”). That she loved the camp, the fishing, a chance to do a little time away from the city. She loved a bit of thinkin’, and drinkin’, and plinkin’.
Maybe there’s a time between midnight and dawn way up on the Snoqualmie Pass summits that such souls are called to. Beckoned to a celestial exit up there that takes one to a place that only God and heaven know. And perhaps I’ll call to YOU Karis, from that high pass some night to let you know that I’m on my way…
But for now, I can only sigh a sad and heavy sigh, and recall the times we shared. Those precious memories that will from now on carry both peace and a twinge in tow.
I shall revisit and will cling to them…and I say in kind, “Little one, I love you too. Get your rest, and please carry the love of an old uncle with you where you go…Say hello to Gramma for me, and know…
You took our breath away.

THE UM.

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