Fuzzies

I walked into a grocery store just after work to pick up a gallon of milk this evening and found myself developing a lump in my throat. The music was to blame. The overhead speakers were playing Bruce Springsteen's 'My Hometown', a story of typical decay in the northeast and a family's surrender to the inevitable and preparing to leave for warmer climates. 'My Hometown' is one of several Springsteen songs which I like to listen to over and over again because of the warm fuzzies I get when listening to them.

Warm fuzzies from the Boss of Rock and Roll. It seems almost ironic.

I get warm fuzzies about other things, too. For instance, I am in the middle of my umpteenth reading of 'The Lord of the Rings', a book I know all too well since discovering the tome during my Senior year in High School. For a while, I made a point of reading the book cover to cover on a yearly basis whether I wanted to or not. I know how it ends and some would argue "What's the point?" Maybe I do it just to get the warm fuzzies.

I've been reading the book during breaks at work and I know darn good and well that I had best quit reading it at work fairly much between the time Frodo actually dumps the ring and the Host in front of the teeth of Mordor are assisted by the Gwahir the Windlord. I'll be to a saturation point with the warm fuzzies. I'm male. I'm expected to keep a stiff upper lip, you know.

My encounters with the warm fuzzies even extend into what I write. I have a novel of sorts in the works and there are certain passages which give me the goosebumps. It's not particularly a good piece of literature nor do I anticipate what I've written to shoot to the top of the New York Times Bestseller lists. To me, it's entertainment - something I am doing just for the sake of saying that I am doing it. The story does have its moments, though. I've killed a character and a couple of other characters have had moments of revelation which, to me at least, are quite profound. At least I'm having fun with the exercise.

A couple of weeks ago the warm fuzzies were almost overwhelming. I took Stuart to see Toy Story 3 (not 3 D) and just about left the theater bawling like a baby. The story, while familiar, was well done and provided a satisfactory ending to the the Toy Story saga. I was totally happy to the point of tears at the resolution... a fact that I finally did tell Stuart despite the damage I envisioned happening to my ego. Sometimes ya just gotta let it loose.

Other warm fuzzies have invaded my life from time to time. I have gotten to the point in life where those fuzzies are no longer as threatening as they used to be. A good thing, perhaps. Good warm fuzzies are invaluable to keeping this pilgrim on an even keel.

May you have many warm fuzzies yourself.

Be Seeing You!