Day 197 - Upside Down - Chapter 33 - (1195 words)

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UPSIDE DOWN, BACK TO FRONT

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 33

Before

Ivan looked at the whiteboard and his plan, it was solid. It was dependable and it was foolproof.
It had to be with his less than professional partners. Sam was solid too, and he was family. James was a little flaky and that may need some extra thought. He was necessary to the plan for now, but a plan B or C may need to be in effect.
It didn’t matter which way it came out for the result, only the dividend was affected. James could be sorted with ease and he would not case trouble, the honourable Samir Patel though? That was another story. He may cuse trouble if James did not get his fair share.
Fair, that was the word of the day. The question of the hour, the line between success and failure was often down to what was fair and what was not.
It would take some consideration.
In the meantime he could definitely use a drink and some time to organise some extra resources.
“Dad, I’m going out for a bit can you mind the shop?”
“Sure thing, I’ll keep you in work son.”
Ivan watched his father walk, shuffle really, into the room. It seemed that of late he was getting worse, his health had not been that great in the last few years and there had been a few scares and news of doom ad gloom from the doctors.
His Dad had paid a high price for his failures, the penance he brought on himself was catching up with him.
Overtaking him.
For years he had punished himself and taken the wrong lessons away from his inability to put things in their proper place. The puzzle had interlocking pieces, and he knew with some certainty where they went, but they need a twist or an approach angle that he did not always get. He had paid the price for that and drank a few years off his life before understanding that.
He had ground to make up but it was no longer his race to run, he could coach his son and guide him to success as well. He could have pride and ownership there, he could be the lightning’s guide, find the earth and channel the energy properly.
Ivan was lightning, not captured but not random either. Power, speed and energy in abundance. The family, that grounded him and they could either sap his energy in an undirected and fruitless way if he was not more canny than his father had been.
They saw each other like a mirror, slightly warped for time and mellowed with age on one side, but a true reflection none the less.
The mirror in his father’s eyes though was cloudy and no longer as clear as it once was. They still knew what they knew and they still wanted the same things, but where Ivan was sprinting ready for the starters pistol, his father was seeing the ribbon for the first time.
Ivan could see that too, and it was unfair and unjust to him. There was no one to ask why, it just was. There was no railing against their god, such as it was or was not. There was an unfairness in life that measured a man and put him against those around him who were not his. You need a team on your side, to lead you need followers, to provide you need someone to receive.
Thankfulness and protection, they were the ways in, they were the why and how of life.
Ivan was thankful for his father and his perspective, he had seen the man fly too close to the sun and fall from grace to the dangerous waters. He had climbed once more, flown again but without the unlimited aspects that free flight had once offered him.
Lessons were learned, a new generation took from this and flew further, climbed higher and risked less with that knowledge. How could he not be thankful for that?
There was no protection for him any more though. The enemy of life was time, and time had no defence against it. You can’t be angry with time, that is a pointless exercise. You have the opportunity of living and you need to take advantage of that. When his father brought home the fatalistic news, it seemed like all hope was lost at first.
It wasn’t.
It was a new lesson, it was looking forward and learning from the past. Dad had the legacy, the future was assured and on the way. The advantage was definitely his, and he willed it to his son and his family that he would carry with him.
Dad needs to see us cross the start line. He needs to know that we are uphloding his legacy his line and his lessons.
He needs to make it. How short time is, and how long it stretches at times.
These morose thoughts were a waste of time. Take the advantage Ivan, take the advantage. Put your effort into finding it, taking it. It’s your job to do that, it is others to find their own and take their own. His father had spent years competing for the chance, playing the game and taking when he thought he had it locked in.
Take the chance, the chance was the problem.
Leave nothing to chance, and leave nothing to honour, there is no such thing.
Find what you need, find the knowledge you need, find the advantage you can take.
Life will happen the way it happens, but luck and honour have no effect on the outcome, they are merely the words we use to excuse our inability to deal with our own problems or create our own opportunity.
His father’s words were ringing in his ears for years. They drowned out the doubt, the doubt he put away with the luck and honour. This was logic, skill and leadership.
He looks so tired and so small, despite the size of the man inside. He had that look on his face, the one that mirrored the concern showing on his own. The one that said to say nothing, do nothing and stop the look on his face from being seen. That’s helping no one, it’s fighting a war when there is not one. Don’t start a fight you cannot, win.
Don’t start a fight you don’t have to.
Don’t fight, take control and choose the outcome.
He had to leave, had to get out of sight to think and not be read. Dad needed rest and watching the office and booking any jobs was the way to go. Time to leave, he had a meeting in an hour or two that he could hang out and wait for.
Good processing time.

It was a short walk to the bar. He wa not so arrogant to believe that drink and cars mixed well. He had beaten out so many drunken dents, dents of cars, immovable objects and occasionally dents of tragic loss. That was not control or skill at work, that was letting it be someone elses fault because you choose to cede control to the bottle.