(redacted specifics re: the crap in my life and the lives of everyone I know)
I decided rather than wallow, to take a page from my dear friend Rev. Paul and lighten up. All is not lost. I still have friends and family who love me. The Nation, while thought to be circling the drain in some circles, is still here. As is her Constitution.
I know and believe this as fact: All you can do is what you can do. Fretting about the past or the future is pointless - be in the now. And hold those you love close and tell them you love them, because you never know! Do it now!
How can you look into that face above and not smile?
(I’ve chosen to make commentary unavailable on this post – go and hold your loved ones, instead!)
My roommate made a recent observation which seems to be borne out in fact:
More people with whom we are acquainted or have knowledge of seem to be going through more health-related stuff in their lives than ever before.
(I think she was more graphic in her statement.)
The point being, seems as if folks are more ill, are having more accidents, have relatives with horrible health conditions and stuff in their lives. I suppose part of the observation could be accounted for by the instantaneous nature of Internet communication, worldwide, but certainly not all.
And yes, we are older, but not all persons involved are older than us. Some, are in fact much younger. And it’s not all based on living in a specific geographic or geopolitical environment.
As I write this, I’m thinking about Brigid’s brother, my roomie’s stepmother, my stepbrother-in-law, and a close friend’s father, among many others.
Is this something superstitious, or Biblical in nature? Or are the facts being compounded based on emotional content, skewing the conclusion?
Keep a good thought, take care of yourselves, and tell those near and dear you love them. And hold them close.
Because, you never know…
Brigid just did a post regarding an educated view of distilled spirits, especially Scotch. I was immediately brought back to my history with spirits, sadly much less educated.
I hail from Irish and German stock, both (in)famous for their (mis)adventures with alcohol. My own father having his issues with it didn’t stop me from wanting to ‘be a man’ and ‘learn how to drink’. And what.
A friend’s older brother procured for us a bottle of Scotch (so it read on the label) from a local discount store. We were in high school. We enjoyed it, but didn’t have anything with which to compare it. Ummm – good turpentine!
Years later, I was celebrating at my bachelor party, and feeling no pain. I began drinking from a Haig Pinch bottle I’d received for my birthday a month earlier, then got the bright idea I should drink my Michelob beer and chase it with said Scotch. I was nervous – after all, I was getting married in four days! While the quality of the alcohol had improved, my desire for subtlety had not, and I went from euphoric to ill in short order. It’s a good thing I wasn’t getting married the next day. I was unable to stand up.
I was well into my forties when I developed a taste for finer liquors. And the ability to afford them, occasionally. I also began to develop appreciation for the sublime, the subtle. Not just the buzz. Bourbon and tequila became interesting. Not together.
And now? A good microbrew, maybe a Margarita? An occasional dram of bourbon or blended whiskey. Not always drinking to excess, but sometimes as a supplement to lessen my chronic pain. And, appreciating it for what it is.
Not always while watching Moonshiners on satellite, though…
Today, my daughter is 30. The same age I was when she was born.
By age 30, I was married, beginning my own PI business, and scared to death about the prospect of fatherhood. Then she arrived and made it easy
Here it is 30 years hence, and by all-that-is-holy she should have been married, and had children. She aspired to be a veterinarian. I never had the privilege of walking her down the aisle or holding a grandbaby. Or proudly watching her get her degree. Or even her diploma.
She was taken from us in 1985. In a stupid car accident.
So she’ll always be age 12 in my heart. Or just born.
Happy Birthday, Molly! I Love You.
My step sister’s husband had an arterial graft placed, but now is suffering from kidney ‘issues’. They flew him from Fairbanks down to a hospital in SeaTac for more help. He is a 20 year, Vietnam vet, retired Army LTC.
Please continue your good thoughts and prayers (if you do that.)
And thanks for all your kind remarks, thus far.
Please keep a good thought and pray (if that’s what you do) for my step-brother-in-law in Alaska. My step-sister reports Thursday night last he was rushed to the E.R. End result, a leaking aneurism. His aorta was stretching and leaking!
He is a 20 year veteran of the United States Army, Vietnam Veteran, and retired Lieutenant Colonel.
All we can do is wait.
First of all, my apologies in advance of you reading this post. I’ve a tendency to get a little maudlin this time of year. Missing friends; family…
My roommate (and place-to-live benefactor) and I are very close. We’re good friends – truth be told, we used to date. So we know much about each other including backstory, family history, skeletons. Stuff from our past(s).
And we were fortunate enough to visit the last gun show together. A couple of blog friends were kind enough to give me the financial means. (Thanks, again, we couldn’t have done it without you!)
But there are land mines in the psyche. Stuff I’ve forgotten about and don’t expect. Buried deep. You see, I used to take my daughter to the gun shows. We used to visit antique malls, as well, and sometimes little antique-y things are displayed at gun shows. There were a few at this one.
When my daughter was small, and she’d see a cameo, she’d remark, “There’s that lady, again.” Hearing that always brought a smile to my face.
And, of course, I shared her expression long ago with my roommate. Part of the tales from the past people getting to know one-another pass along. And I always hear Molly’s voice in my head when I see that kind of jewelry.
So, here we are at the gun show, taking it all in, and up comes an antique jewelry display. Not exactly why I visit guns shows. So, I’m getting ready to gloss over it, when my roommate says softly, reverently,
There’s that lady, again.
copied) stolen from MArooned in it’s entirety. Thanks Jay G.!)
LONDON – Britain’s education secretary says he will investigate how local officials removed three children from their foster family because of concerns about the parents’ political beliefs.
The Rotherham borough council sparked criticism Saturday when it was revealed that its social workers removed the children, who are European migrants, because their foster parents are members of the right-wing U.K. Independence Party.
I’m sure the same actions would have been taken if the foster parents were part of a left-wing party, right? I’m certain that the party’s views on immigration reform played no part in the removal. I mean, England’s never been one to appease an invading force, right?
And to those who think it can’t happen here, well, if you believe that I’ve got this bridge for sale…
That is all.Another dispatch from…(image courtesy of Robb Allen)RIGHT?
I recently had a conversation with a friend which sparked a bittersweet memory.
One of the things many of us miss as adults is the wonder, the surprise, the simple serendipity of joy. In childhood we experience it often, probably because most things and experiences are new to us, and we’ve yet to become jaded.
One of my favorite memories of my daughter Molly was when I gave her a gift. She was turning twelve, and I knew just as the Sun rose in the morning that soon she would be developing into a teenager, full of doubt and promise. One who no longer trusted her parents to be all-knowing and truthful. Because, of course, we weren’t and could never be.
But here we were, proud father giving his daughter a present. She opened it, her eyes widened, and there was that sudden exhalation of breath. Excitement, happiness, joy. Innocence and appreciation in one second, one breath. Followed by the big hug.
I don’t even remember what I had given her. But what she gave me was so much more. An everlasting memory of a happy young woman, unspoiled by the adolescent hormones of parental treachery. Not yet jump-started into that distrust generated simply by being parents and adults.
Zen masters tell us to be in the now. Live life as if each moment was your last. This is what Molly showed me that day.
I’ve had many difficult times of year. The holidays and my birthday comprise one such time. Not because of those specific events, but rather because of who’s not there.
But, I’ve already received my present this year. As I get every year – when I remember it.
Live in the now, with joy, and never be disappointed.
Thank you, Molly.
In part, because tradition dictates turkey (which I loathe) and ‘all the trimmings’ (most of which hold neutral memories at best).
I DO like pumpkin pie, though!
My birthday always happens around Thanksgiving, and when I was 9 or 10 my parents decided to amalgamate my birthday, my father’s birthday (last week), and my step-sister’s mother-in-law’s birthday all into one big bacchanal. And I was the only kid. There was much overeating of traditional food (see above paragraph), and much over-imbibing. The men took over the living room with the TV for non-stop football and alcohol, and the women were relegated to the hot, crowded kitchen, wherein they groused about the men. Perhaps I’d have felt better had I been able to drink? Generally not fond memories.
This past year has been stressful, to say the least. Loss of my house, moving, further financial issues, ongoing medical problems, car troubles and the sudden loss of my good friend Mark.
As W.C. Fields said, when he was dying, “On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia!” He hated Philadelphia.
But, on the plus side, I still have good friends, family, a support system, and a good friend who opened up her home to me in my time of need. Seriously, this past year could have been a lot worse.
I usually brush off Thanksgiving because of the traditional trappings and memories. I’ll continue to do that today, but I AM embracing the tradition of GRATITUDE.
I’ve a place to live, a car that runs (knock-on-wood), and friends and family who support me. And folks all over the World who read and comment on this blog nonsense! Many of whom have become friends.
In spite of the few bumps in the road, it doesn’t get any better than this!
Here’s hoping you all have a blessed, safe, and Happy Thanksgiving. We’re having lasagne!