signing off

she sang...

"It's quarter to three, there's no one in the place except you and me
So, set 'em up, Joe, I got a little story you oughta know
We're drinkin', my friend, to the end of a brief episode
Make it one for my baby and one more for the road"

It was the end of an era.  Johnny's farewell.

"I bid you a very heartfelt goodnight" was his simple closure to the on-air life of a TV legend.  No one did it quite the way he did.  And though many have tried, I don't know if anyone will come close to his wit and satire.  His life off the screen was private, but he shared a persona that many of us grew to think of as a friend, a family member who allowed us to meet stars, hear incredible music and experience "Carnac"!

And she sang to his leaving the screen.  Retiring and closing the chapter on his historic run.

Bette's Goodbye to Johnny

So at the end, what is the way you want to leave?  Like the stars, we often see the production, the farewell tour, the last curtain call.  But in our lives we have moments that lead to the end.  They may not come with the celebration, the serenades, the lead up to the final episode, but they come for all of us.
How are you going to leave?  Not thinking about death, but focusing on life.  What do we leave behind?  Not guests or fame, but what treasures do we leave - and which ones do we take with us?

As my Dad watches closely the closing of his own mother's life, I am drawn to think more and more about legacy.  About the decisions that brought me to where I am today.  The three kids that I see sleeping as I put these words down.  The art, the music, the poetry that I have inside.  The beliefs that I still treasure - the ones that helped me stay here just a little longer.  The mountain air that I long for in my lungs.  The love that I still don't know if I do right.

There is still a spark inside me, and I hope to pass some of that along to those that are closest.  And there are still days - even recently - that I struggle.  So I press on.  I'm writing.  Seeing the world closest to me and trying to grasp the lessons that I still have to learn.

so she sings...

"Well, that's how it goes.
And john i know you're getting
Anxious to close.
So, thanks for the cheer.
I hope you didn't mind me
Bending your ear.

For all of the years,
For the laughs, for the tears,
For the class that you showed,
Make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.

That long long road."

~ Bette Midler on Johnny Carson's retirement

sKin

we all have it.

some of us have a "thicker" skin.

some sensitive skin.

you may have skin that seems to glow.  or you may have a covering that you wish was more like the models on TV and magazines.

our physical form is something that I personally have struggled with for years.  and in many ways it is connected to my inner "skin" as well.

I was the fat kid in grade school.  the acne faced kid in high school who just couldn't go a day without some new bump or mark.

my skin has hung on my bones at times, and even in those times when I know I've been in the best shape of my life - it still was the part of me that I was most sensitive about.

"Chady Fatty"

"Big Boy"

"Fat A**"

just to name a few that come to mind as I'm writing this.

the words hurt.  but it was nothing to the way it made me feel so insecure and hyper-aware of my weight.  those thoughts seeped into my bones and made each look in the mirror something out of a bad fairy tale...

"mirror, mirror on the wall... who's the ugliest of them all"

and yes, I still struggle with this.


but WE are all Beautiful.

We were all fearfully and wonderfully made.

We radiate from something beyond our skin.  

We have parts of us that are just waiting to show the beauty that lies within.

Some of us may show this beauty more.  Some of us may mask it with the fear and self-loathing that I experienced.  But we are all beautiful creatures. 

There may need to be some internal 'tweaking' to get our insides to allow us to see that.  And yes, there are things that most of us may need to work on physically.  But this journey - life - it's a chance to do something each day to resonate that beauty.  

If you're angry - find something to be joyful about. 

If you're sad - find laughter.

If you're tired and weary - find peace in places beyond the mirror.  Beyond the facade.

I wear a mark on my arm.  It represents the balance that I long for in my life.

Physical - Mental - Spiritual

There is beauty in me.  I have a deep longing for the spirit that sings within me to grow and become even more of what I know it can be.  I have a mind that is quirky and unique, challenging and rebellious - sometimes even childlike, and I wouldn't change that for anything.  And I have beautiful blue eyes...

...just like my young son's.

Rites of Passage

Tomorrow my little girl (yes, I realize she's 15) is being baptized.

It's part of a decision that she made for herself.

I've really spent some time thinking about her life.  Since May, but in reality much longer.  The words I've shared and even sung about her will never capture her heart.  She's tentative at times, but I'm just waiting until she bursts out from that and blossoms forth into the person she already is inside.

So she made a choice.  I didn't push her into her beliefs.  And in reality, those beliefs are still being formed.  They will come from what she has already experienced, those she seeks wisdom from and mostly her own path.  That journey is one that I wouldn't trade anything to be even the smallest part of.  The voice inside her is strong, just not fully resounding yet.  Yet!

I am proud of her.

It makes me so emotional to think of them.  My three kids.  To watch each grow.  They will each have to find their own path to walk.

But tonight it's about my 'little girl'.  She is so special.  If you spend some time with her you'll know.  She's smart (though we still need to talk about grades!), sincere, mischievous, and beautiful.


Cambrey,

Take your place in this world.  Don't stand in anyone's shadow.  Embrace YOU!

...and never forget that you are loved.  Deeply by this old man who is slowly learning to let go of the 'little girl' and see the young woman that you are becoming.

I Love You.
Dad

The Hardest Day

2011. 

Four years ago this week. 

It still resonates with me today, though maybe not as deeply or as penetrating into the depths of who I am. But it's there.

It was the gauntlet that I decided to run. Instead of running away from the truth this time though, I was running towards a hopeful solution. Once 4am hit, a phone call came from a friend who I still don't know how they knew I was so desperate from across the miles, it was either live or die.

Live or Die.

I hadn't slept through the night. all the doubts and darkness of depression had become such a close friend that they came in and persuaded me to fester in my thoughts and to find all the darkness that was in my soul. I was grieved over my humanity, and was at the end of what I considered this feeble life I had lived.

I've written about the events that led up to that morning before, but today it's actually somber and sobering to be driving the same drive that I drove four years ago. It was in the light that was breaking through that I first talked to a kind voice that assured me that I wasn't alone.  The voice that led me to talk to someone who was able to help deal with the issues.

But in pure Chad stubbornness, I said I still had to go to work.  I had to do my job. I had to do the drive to Athens.  The plan was that I would check in throughout the day, do my route, do the meeting I needed to do that night (it was rental season), and then head back to a safe place with a dear friend who would help make the decision on whether I needed to get further help or if I was ok.

So I drove. It wasn't a dark day, but the mood felt much like the rain that's lightly hitting the windshield today. Sometimes I've let my own stubbornness get in the way of health, and during the day I kept trying to find ways to talk myself out of really getting to the root of the problem. I cowered at the thought of admitting again that I was broken, that I couldn't manage life alone, that I wasn't strong enough, wasn't good enough, that I was a failure. But I knew one thing from early on in my life, that I was able to keep pushing on. I knew how to keep moving.

Only four people knew what was going on that day. Myself, my counselor, Mike and Earl. And inside I didn't know if I had the true strength of character to really make it through.  I lashed out at a coworker who asked a question that I just didn't know how to answer. I would go from one school to the next weeping rivers of tears in between. Trying to find some reservoir of peace that was just cracked and empty inside.

About halfway through the day, I found an old country church and I went inside and sat and prayed. I won't say that I'm the most religious person. I have faith, but I also have doubts. All I know is that the same power that saved my life that morning was being prayed to. But God I still don't understand.  Just that there was some large spiritual presence that day.

There is a quote that goes "not all who wander are lost". I had been wandering a long time. Still have parts of my spirit that are finding their way. But on that day four years ago I found that I can climb the mountains. All that power inside me that was used just to try to get by could now be used for actually seeking answers and finding the path that made sense for me.

I drove throughout the rest of the day not quite a zombie, but as a man who was holding it together - knowing that the next checkpoint lay ahead. That the end wasn't near, but maybe the beginning.

More tears, more miles ahead, but I still drove on.

That night I spent in a place I had never dreamed of. A place that still scares me, with all the hurt and pain that flowed through it.  To see the inside of an institution where intellect and logic are thrown to the wolves and sanity is not even in attendance can take even the strongest hearts and break them.

Hospitals are for the sick, but they should always be a place that we try to move people out of, not have people stuck permanently within their walls.  Amidst the noise and all the commotion, I knew that I was going to be able to find my path. A small voice of steadying calm came, and I knew that I had reached as low as I could ever be. And in those moments I knew this was just my first climb up Mount Hope.

UKE the Wild!

It was a crazy thought.  In less than four weeks get ready for a strenuous trek through the Olympic National Park.  Four days removed from civilization, cell phones, work and stress.

My father-n-law made the suggestion.  We had tried the trip the year before and found ourselves knee deep in snow (in late June even), but this year the rain was down, the temps looked favorable and without too much of a pause, I said "yes!"  

Training was a blur, but I hit my normal hiking with a little extra weight on my back and a focus on the daily grind that the trip would bring.  But as I tried to get my legs and back to a place that would manage carrying my shelter, food and misc, I realized that I needed to also bring something for my spirit as well.

Ukulele is a passion of late.  I have always played music - be it percussion, drums, guitar, dulcimer, but this curious little instrument has found such a special place in my heart.  It sings with a voice that cuts through the negativity of the day and puts a smile on my face even when my heart is heavy.  It's compact and often not taken seriously, but it has a voice that is unmistakable and soothing.  Sometimes longingly singing a melody and other times full of the twangy blues that touches your soul.

So I decided to take a Uke into the Wild.  I own several (it's some strange compulsion that other Uke players have described in blogs and facebook).  But I also had found this wonderful place just on the other side of Atlanta - Uke Republic, and had an idea.  Take a waterproof, plastic Uke with me on the trip.  Take the journey and rigors and see just how the little guy would hold up.

Mike at Uke Republic obliged and I set off with a Kala Waterman Ukulele.

The trip started from Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson Airport to Seattle, Washington.  The next day I'd be in the truck and off towards the peak above Hart's Lake in the middle of the Olympics.  It was a time for me to bond with my father-n-law and also a time to recharge before my job ramped up in late July for the school year.

With my pack securely attached and the Uke right on the back, we headed out.  First day - 10 miles along the Duckabush.  A peaceful, almost vacant trail that allowed my thoughts to wonder as my feet wandered.  When I stopped for a pause, I would pull out the Waterman and strum some simple tune or some lingering melody that haunted my thoughts.  It was in these surreal moments that the melody combined with words to form the beginnings of a song.  

Each night I spent time around the campfire, strumming, writing, enjoying the simple joys of life in the wild.  Each day I found a few moments here and there to pluck.  The Ukulele responded and was exactly what I needed it to be - rugged, responsive and even resonant at times in it's voice.  

On the second day I fell.  Not just falling from tripping, but as I came down a long embankment my foot caught on a branch and I found myself thrust forward and down, 45 pound pack and all.  I knew that I had to throw my weight to the pack to avoid injury.  In that instant I wasn't thinking about the little instrument that was on the far back of the pack.  I came down hard.  Knees and back taking the blunt of the fall.  Once I got up and made sure nothing was injured or broken, I remembered the Uke.  Pulled it out and even though I know it was under everything, it remained intact.  Kudos to Kala for making it pretty near indestructable!

The journey was a beautiful adventure.  I wasn't able to make it all the way to the summit we had planned to reach, but I found solace in a place that captured more of my heart.  Amidst seeing a herd of elk, wild grouse, mountains that touched the sky and simple butterflies that would never know the world I had left, I found what I will always call 'home'.  The wild.

So if you have the opportunity to go, whether it be the Olympics, the hills of Georgia, Carolina's coast or anywhere you choose.  Take with you something that allows you to find your spirit and fly!

Uke the Wild!

Letters: The Men You Are

You're three months old today.

And though it will be years before you will ever read or comprehend this, I wanted to give you some of your own 'history'.  A part of who and what we were thinking when we named you.  So you'll know these two men, Kit and Brett,  and one day understand the significance of the name Christopher Brett Chatham.

Both talented musicians.  Both men loved.

Christopher "Kit" Chatham is my brother.  A man I have seen skyrocket into one of the most talented performers I've ever seen.  And though we aren't as close as I'd like, he remains one that is dear to my heart.  I hope you'll meet him and get some of his cool 'mojo'.  He entertains and inspires many.  He may not realize it, but he is still part the young Kit that I grew up with in my heart and the man I'd like to get to know again.

And like Kit, I hope that I will give you all the opportunities that my father gave me.  The chance to find dreams and to chase them.  Even catch them!

William Brett Shanley is part of you as well.  He left us too soon, but from all I've learned - all I've tried to understand, he was like me.  Scarred at times - flawed, but a good man.  He loved your mom extremely and his presence is still in our home.  Your mom will tell you more about him.  He was loved by many.  And in his absence, we'll never forget him.  You carry part of him in your spirit.

These two men come from the heart of your mom and I.  They resonate with the good stuff that we want you to know and along with our own life's stories, will be part of the love that we hope will guide you as you grow.

It's important to know them, but it's even more important that you know yourself.  That is a struggle that I never wish upon you.  Both Kit and Brett are men who found who they are.

So Little Man, as you lay sleeping next to me.  I have shed a few tears thinking about the past, but as you stir I know that I'll look even deeper into the future.


7/2/15
clc

Letters: My Little Girl

“My Little Girl!”

She will always be.

From her excited face that still surfaces when something tickles her inside, or those deep brown eyes.  She had my heart from the moment she came into the world.

“What do I see when I look into brown eyes,
Well it takes my breath away..”

Again, born at a time when I just wasn’t the father that I would want to be – she still was so cute – and full of life.  She would walk beside you and just look up.  Wanting to be seen – wanting to know she was loved.  And girl, you have ALWAYS been loved!

While your brother may have the hair that stands out – you have a depth in you that I see.  An emotional roller coaster inside that is so great and terrifying in a moment.  Because I know those feelings too.  You share that with me.

I love it when you open up to me (Even though sometimes I’m pulling info out of you).  You are deep.  And you dream.  You’ve helped give me hope at times that there are better, bigger things on the horizon.  You still have time to look up at the stars and find something that sparks the desires inside you.

My little girl, find those passions.  Dream big, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat Dreams.

But no matter what you seek, know that I love you for the little girl who I still find myself thinking of throughout my days.  You will never be far from my heart and soul.  I ache for you when I know you’re hurting and I feel life deeper inside when you laugh or we sing randomly in the car driving down the road!

My Young Lady.

Cambrey.

(and no, you’re still not dating until you’re 35!!)


4/1/15
clc

Letters: My First Love

My First Love

He had me from the moment he arrived.  Not just a child, but a Big Ole Baby Boy!  He came at a time of uncertainty and chaos for me personally, but he came.  He was there, this living, breathing monster – that wouldn’t sleep at night, wouldn’t settle down and it was evident pretty early on that there was an orangeish tint atop his head.

I struggled as a young dad.  Didn’t do a lot of things right.  But if I had any true part in putting this child on the planet – then I must have at least succeeded at that.  I’ve looked back on where I’ve truly felt unconditional love – where I’ve looked at another being and said “I Love You” without feeling the scars from my youth or the judgements that I felt from my world.  "I love you no matter what.  No matter where life takes you."

It was at this kid – now more a Man than Child, but still a boy inside.  That was the first time!

I look forward to finding more time with him.  I don’t want to be the one who looks back years later and regrets.  Well, I already have time that I regret being so far removed from him and his sister, but I’m working hard to let them know my heart.

To you son, I want you to know the depth of love that I carry deep inside.  I see you in my mind so many days and just want you to be YOU.  To be the person that you are – to become the man that I can’t wait to see you mature and grow into.  But I never want you to lose that spirit you have.  The mischievous grin and silly side.  Stand out like the shock of hair on your head.

You are my first love.  One of many loves now.

Cade.

3/31/15
clc

Two Men - revisited

Some will be lost.  There's no way to experience life without ultimately experiencing death.

But not Forgotten.

William Brett Shanley
3/31/1973 - 4/11/2012


Two Men - Revisited

Two men meet at the end of the road
One departed – one further to go
But sometimes they still meet
Like today, when’s it’s the time
To look back where they’ve traveled
Find a little peace of mind…

Two stories that still seem to unfold
One never forgotten, one left to be told
Come together and take a pause
Winded voices still move on and on

They share past and present
Then turn to depart

I stop and turn, look back at him
Starting to fade, won’t let the light dim
Must push on –
so when next we meet
There is another chapter
Two little feet…

I’ve lost many, some I’ve known for years and years
But this man that I followed can bring as many tears
I will remember what I can –
Though even though I think I understand
Some days I can’t

But I know the road.
I’ve walked it.  Longer than he
And somehow I’ve been allowed
To live and breathe

Suffered with pain – with the uncertainty
Of staying together, when I just couldn’t believe
And the path ahead of me, well
Still have days it’s a little foggy to see

Two men say goodbye again
Not really brothers, not exactly friends
Each shares in their humanity
Insights others may not have seen

I move on – I press on…


3/31/15
clc

43

I am a blessed man.  I have a beautiful, gorgeous wife.  A new wonder on the way.  A child I never thought would be part of my future, but I'm excited nonetheless.

I have two incredibly strong and amazing teenagers.  Cade, who I see so much raw, untapped potential in.  You're smart kid, do something with it – let me help, I'm always here.  And Cambrey, my “little girl”.  I know you have the whimsical, dreamer side, like me.  Refine it and find your passion! ( and no, you're still not dating until you re 35!).

But it's still been a hard transition.  43.

Some birthdays just come and pass with out much ado, then there are those that you just can't truly fathom why, but they hit you.  A brick against the head.  An ACME Anvil (circa Bugs Bunny, Wille Coyote) over the skull… And you still hear that damn road runner taunting, laughing in every “beep, beep!”

My body’s fighting me.  My emotions, even though I've done my best, are on edge.  My physical body is hurting.  All the time.  To the point of tears.  So tomorrow I go to another doctor.  Praying for some relief.  The ringing is just so prevalent.  And then Wednesday a sinus procedure to relieve some of the infection and drainage issues.

It’s been hard.  To the point where I found myself losing it over a curs-ed (said southernly) ceiling fan yesterday.

Growing a year older really isn't a big part of the landscape, but it just happens that this week everything aligns.   I’m feeling it.  And I don't really allow myself that voice.  The screaming I do inside is often just a muddled whisper to those around.  So without yelling, I just want to say I’m not done.  I've cried more in the last week or so the I have in a long time.  Everything kind of hitting all at once.  The pain, the need to carve out “space”,  the absolute desire to get little one’s room all settled, the struggle for family – and what that means,  the artistic “struggle” within, feeling the mountain air in my lungs, and the need to be open and talking to the one I love…

So here's a little openness…

I love both of my parents.  Even though I don't necessarily know how that works.  I love Kit, and I think he'll see that one day soon.  I love my new in-laws, though that is still a new relationship (here in Georgia we have shotguns usually attached to any mention of In-laws, but for now I think I’m safe – haha).   I am so deeply in love with the two kids that I see as coming into a really cool age.  They are on my mind daily – constantly.  Embedded I the depths of my soul. I will love little “runt”.  That's a crazy new adventure to come!

And I love My Wife.  But that is something that I will express to her, in private (Jenelle, Just know how much you truly mean to everything).

So I'm not apologizing for my age, or my condition.  I'm sick of saying sorry for what's going on.  I am, though, trying to find answers.  Even when the questions are still kind of fuzzy to me.  I know that age isn't the definer of my spirit.  I'm just battling to right the ship and set the course (funny side note – I keep a compass on the dash of my van and a special brass one hanging on my peg board at home)

I am a man who is deeply rooted here in the woods and the winds of north Georgia.  But just as alive roaming the city streets of my Atlanta.  I find that there is a distinct need to play, to create, to be the artist that I know is hidden down inside the years of dust and cobwebs.  I need to love, and those who are my loves - my wife, kids, family and dear, dear friends (Matt, Kelly and yes, even you Nate!) all need to know how much you truly mean to me.

My spirit isn't fettered by the strains of corporate religion, but I believe in God and the ragamuffin gospel of Rich and how he chose to realize his faith.  Im still not satisfied with my own spiritual views, but I'm continually looking, reading, even praying on occasion.  But I also won't deny anyone else their own views.  I only can answer for me. I just know there's something out there.

So this week I turn 43, KINDA (My kids always think it's so funny that I only have a birthday every four years, and that I'm only 10, and that in birth years I'm younger than they are….  I was born on the 29th, if you haven't figured that out yet), and I have realized that this is one of those harder ones.

But it's still me.  Still moving forward, even through the hard times.  Even when tears swell up in my eyes, like now. Still wanting to do something special, something powerful with the short time we have here on this planet.  Still traversing the trails and mountains before me.

Still me.