De ja vu All Over Again

The dreaded "in-between" times. You know what I mean. Those moments, days, seasons when you've just finished something big--and you know something else is coming--but you're not there . . . yet.
Early January is always an "in between time" when the frenetic holiday season gives way to the long cold nights of January. In the Midwest we spend time bundling, shoveling, trying to keep warm and dreaming of seasons to come.
Personally, I feel my entire family is living in an in-between moment. From me trying to determine my next career move, to my wife waiting for her beloved aunt to pass, to all my children (and no, I'm not going to dish on them, yet).
In basketball, the teams that play well in transition--those moments after a lose ball or misdirected pass, when neither the offense nor the defense has had time to set up properly--often determine a game's outcome. Those teams and players who in transition can sink a basket AND when they've slowed down the pace, can play with order and discipline, often win championships.
Remember in times of transition, the game is still going. You may not be focused on one particular play or project, but make no mistake, keep your head in the game. Many people perform well in times of pressure or crisis, but how many keep charging even in early January--when it's cold outside and you'd really rather just sit by the fireplace and read a book.
The funny thing is I remember being here before. In 1983 I found myself in January sitting in my attic apartment in Des Moines, Iowa, wondering what I was doing. After an emotionally wrenching seven month journey that took me from Des Moines to New York, to Tel Aviv, to Cairo back to New York, and, then, to Des Moines again, the snow-covered cornfields really lost their lustre after seeing the pyramids. But, yet, I needed to pull it together, graduate from college, and pick a career. And, I felt like I was all alone--no friends, family or trusted counselors. That was a grim period in my life.
Fast forward eighteen years to January 2001. After surviving the grueling grind of law school, I sat in my kitchen wondering how I was going to provide for my wife and four children with no job and a pile of debt. While pondering those mysteries, I watched chunks of plaster fall from my ceiling as a leaky second-floor shower continued to do damage. What was I going to do? I don't look back to those days with fondness.
As another jobless January roles around in my life, I feel strangely serene in 2010. My children are older--only one, a very competent and accomplished 13-year-old really needs me, but not in the same way as the helpless 4-year-old did nine years ago. My ceiling isn't leaking (knock plaster) and my wife amazingly hasn't grown tired of me.
At 48 years old, the thought of re-inventing myself yet again, selling myself and my services yet again to new masters, is not something I'm longing to do. It's not even something I must do. At least, not yet. Thank the Lord that this time at least I have some role models.
This winter I've become a passionate fan of the TBS show Men of a Certain Age. I can't remember ever seeing on television a show that vividly portrayed the lives of men like me. Of course, how much better my transition would be if Andre Braugher and Ray Romano and Scott Bakula were my best friends. However, these are men living in "between times". Neither young or old, not settled or fully content with their lives, these men live lives eerily similar to my own. I'm taking note. And, in the words of one of my favorite bands Guster, "Based on the real events from movie screeens, I am a one-man wrecking machine."
Confused? Yeah, me too. But, this script is still being written and I haven't figured out where the plot is leading. I'll let you know as the new gameplan comes together.
Thanks for reading. Of course--it's just me for now.