Life & Musings of a 21st Century Flâneur

Confessions of A Twenty-First Century Flâneur

Lifestyle – Poems – Essays – Vignettes

I confess: I’ve always been a bit eclectic, obsessively curious about everything. I grew up on the sunny beaches of Southern California—a time that felt warm, to care less, and free of the social and political anxiety that would come later. Life was peaceful, safe, and unassuming. Back then, there was little discernible difference between Democrats and Republicans.

World War II ended in the summer of 1945, leaving Western Europe in ruins. As our English allies worked to restore their great nation of extraordinarily brave and resourceful people, Japan was placed under martial law to undergo much-needed political and social reform. Most of Eastern Europe fell under the grip of a desperate Soviet Union. But we hadn’t yet learned our lesson—soon came the bloody Korean War. Eventually, the world settled into an uneasy peace. A new generation, both foreign and domestic, began to enjoy a hard-earned democracy. People everywhere were eager to heal old wounds, and here at home, our vibrant, youthful nation would lead the greatest social and economic revolution in history, pulling much of the world along with us.

I’m not entirely sure how it all began, but before my thirteenth birthday, my father had been institutionalized with chronic depression. Before I turned fourteen, my mother died of a heart attack. I was a mischievous kid, expelled from two high schools, and I wasted exceptional baseball talent as a switch-hitting catcher with exceptional speed and power from both sides of the plate. Eventually, I attended four city colleges and two universities, finally graduating with two degrees.

After being fired from the only corporate job I’ve ever had, I sold shoes, pitched floor coverings, designed kitchens, pumped gas, and tuned engines in the backroom of my own service station. I even worked briefly as a securities broker—before I found some integrity.

I don’t have a Facebook page or a Twitter account, and I’ve never sent a text message. Ironically, I was among the first to monetize the internet—long before Google—building sophisticated, interactive websites when all we had were crude early versions of HTML and Excel.

I’ve read the Declaration of Independence, the U.S. Constitution, the Torah, Marx’s Communist Manifesto,Das Kapital, Machiavelli’s The Prince, and Plato’s The Republic—more than once. I enjoy reading the works of Christian academics and apologists, though I’m not one myself. I’ve started the great American novel at least three times and write poetry, vignettes, social and political commentary. I consider myself to be a bit of an expert on the sinister origins and intent of AI technology

My eclectic pursuits include a unique musical tin can collection and literary fluency in the French language. I have successfully passed 11 state and federal licensing examinations, including the Series 7, private pilot certification, and FAA examinations for advanced ground training. To my knowledge, I am the only individual to have taken and passed both the California State real estate sales and broker licensing examinations twice.

I was among the early pioneers to monetize the Internet—prior to the rise of Google—when I received a personal check for $15.00 in 1998 for a real estate investment guide and field reference manual, which I published using AOL Press. Between 2001 and 2008, I generated an average of $25,000 annually while working less than one hour per week, leveraging only a flip phone and basic HTML.

In my time, I have walked the streets of Seattle, Sausalito, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego. I’ve had pozole in Tijuana, tacos in Cabo, breakfast in Key West, lunch at the original Hotel California in Todos Santos. I’ve enjoyed great bangers and beer in Oxford, Scotch on the rocks at the Hotel del Coronado, a martini at the “Top of the Mark,” a bad dinner in Paris, a good dinner at River’s End, catfish in Harlem, dinner at the Ahwahnee, great Italian food in Hell’s Kitchen and a very bad night in Reno.

I have seen the Great Lakes, the Golden Gate at sunset, Biscayne Bay at sunrise and Puget Sound from the Space Needle.

I have been to Wall Street, Pike Place Market, the Badlands of Arizona, Key West, Miami, Mission Capistrano, Nassau, Yellowstone, Staten Island, Chattanooga, Golden, Yosemite, Disneyland, Newark, Hilo, Butte, Monterey, the Alamo, Oktoberfest in Kansas, the College World Series, the Great Salt Lake, Laughlin, the Mormon Tabernacle, Park City, Laramie, Atlanta, Père-Lachaise, St. Pancras Old Churchyard, Silver Terrace, Buckhead, Pottstown, Kona, Carmel, the Wildhorse Saloon, Las Vegas before and after Fremont Street, Saint George, La Paz, Cheyenne, and the River Walk when it was just a dirty ditch. I’ve dug for clams on the salty beach of Malibu.

The Seine is just a filthy river. They celebrate Halloween inParis and I twice missed the train to Brussels.

I’ve been to Niagara Falls, Napa Valley, Spokane, Boulder, the top of the Continental Divide, the Luxembourg Gardens, Hyde Park, Buckingham and Kensington Palace. I’ve seen Big Ben glow in the moonlight, over the Great Lakes and accross Lake Tahoe. I’ve been on the Tennessee River, down the “Golden Escalator,” to the top of “Lookout Mountain”. I’ve been to the London School of Economics.

I have walked the sreets of Greenwich Village, Soho, Piccadilly Circus, and I have seen the rich farmlands of Minnesota. I have been to Estes Park, the Dakota Plains and I have seen Montana’s Big Sky, the Statue of Liberty, the Sierras, the Rockies, the Heartland, the high desert of California, the red rock of Sedona, Park City, Hoover Dam—inside and out—Alexander Hamilton’s tomb.

I’ve seen the London Bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge from the top of the Empire State Building and “Old Faithful”. I once woke up unexpectedly in Portsmouth, UK.

I have spent Good Friday in Bryant Park and St. Patrick’s Cathedral, four miserable years in Nebraska, one night in Des Moines, a hot summer in Fargo, and a beautiful Easter afternoon in Central Park.

I have been to Alcatraz and San Quentin. I have surfed the warm waters of Hawaii and under the Pacific moonlight of California. I’ve been in at least twenty-seven states and nine capitals. I have walked the streets of Canterbury. There was a train ride from California to Texas.

I watched “Super Bowl I” in a San Clemente bar—and every one somewhere since.

I have prayed for peace at the Journey Church on 42nd Street in New York City, and I hope to do it again.

I’ve had three near-death experiences. Once, a B-52 bomber fishtailed less than 100 feet below our flight deck at 35,000 feet. We were milliseconds away from becoming an international incident. The bomber pilots wore white helmets with tinted visors. I remember that moment sometimes, and I try to see their faces. They are always wearing white helmets with tinted visors.

The glory of creation is everywhere –

I love God and my country. There has been one woman who loved me, three dogs, and four snotty cats. I’ve been a devoted friend and neighbor, giving freely of both my time and money. I tried my best to be a good father.

I have a real name, but for now, I’m Châz. I have often enjoyed a beautiful sunset with good Scotch and a fine cigar. I’ve had some extraordinary accomplishments and have reaped more than my share of prosperity.

But not always. There was a moment in my adult life when I had no money, no job, no car, no home, and no bed of my own.

I have seen the best and the worst of my time. So, I have some things to say about life. I would like to share them with you. Somewhere within these pages and posts are the random thoughts, musings, and confessions of a Twenty-First Century Flâneur.

Châz

Lifestyle – Poems – Ess ays – Vignettes