Happy New Year 2011

The end of another year is upon us. 2010 wasn’t what I’d call an easy year. Being out of work for half of it ensured that. People say that along with the good comes the bad. Well. The reverse was quite true for me. While out of work I had a number of friends and relatives that helped make sure I had enough to pay my bills, eat and have a social life that anyone would be happy about. For that, I can never give the thanks that are truly deserved.

One of the goals I’ve always set for myself is to not be an ass. By that, I mean to treat other people decently. I think I’ve done pretty well with that. I’ve made a few new friends and that can never be a bad thing. I’ve reconnected with a number of folks from my past and, over the last few years, that’s proven to be nothing but positive. . All in all I’ve done all right with a few asterisks along the way. I think that can be said for most of us.


I’ve still got things in my personal life I need to work on, we all do, and maybe the New Year will see changes in those areas. I’d like to be more open to new relationships. That’s something that I’ve always struggled with and turning 50 in a month, well, it night be time to grow up in that area of my life. I need to start taking better care of my life and it’s surroundings. Things like keeping the house and my car clean would be nice. I’m always embarrassed to invite friends over simply because I don’t keep things as neat as I should. All in all, I’d just like to be better. I can’t promise that it’ll be the case but, with baby steps, maybe I can make improvements along the way. On the other hand, maybe I won’t do anything differently. All I can do is give it a shot.

So, Happy New Year, everybody. I hope you all get everything your heart desires. Try to be nice to each other. Things always go much smoother when you start with that.

Here We Go Again

I was on my way to the “Palace” to see the Pistons the other night. I was meeting a few friends that I hadn’t seen in a few years. I was thinking, though I really don’t like pro basketball, it’d be nice to see the guys, and best of all, the ticket was free. I got out of work a little early, came home and got Lucky out and changed then headed to the Palace to meet up with the gang.

I was about half way there when I started having one of my little episodes. You know the ones. My brain started telling me about all the horrible things that were bound to happen once I arrived. Of course, the people I was meeting wouldn’t really want me there. They were no doubt regretting their decision of inviting me before I had even arrived. Then the fight in my head started. I started telling myself how ridiculous I was being and knew that it wasn’t really happening. As I kept getting closer to my destination, the argument kept going and I started sweating and was having a hard time catching my breath. I ended up doing the dumbest thing possible and turned around and came home.

I’ve had these type of things happen to me so many times but it still doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. The obvious and most advised solution is to be on an anti anxiety medication. Well, guess what? I was. I got an RX for one a few weeks ago. I took one about an hour or so before I left work. It did absolutely nothing to stop my brain from telling me all the things we’re supposed to not believe about ourselves. Obviously, I need to see about getting a different one as Xanax does nothing to help.

Feeling like this is especially bad this time of year. The Holiday season is supposed to be a time to be together with friends and family and with the obligations to attend these events I’ve been in a mood to beat all moods since the Thanksgiving. I would give anything to be able to skip this time of year on a regular basis. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never minded working during the Holiday season. It’s the easiest out I have for anything. Unfortunately my store closes early on Christmas Eve and closed on Christmas day.

I guess I’m just writing this to sort of give an apology and an explanation to anyone that finds my behavior off putting and I hope they’ll understand that, truly, it’s not them, it’s me. I really wish I didn’t realize how childish this all is. Sadly, for me, it’s simply not the case.

We'll Just Never Get It

Got a phone call the other night on my way home from the brother of someone I used to know with some pretty sad news. To say I was surprised to hear from him is quite an understatement. I barely knew him and had just become reacquainted with his sister. He called to tell me his Sister had died a few days earlier and, when I asked what had happened, he told me she had committed suicide. Not knowing how to respond, I gave my condolences and we chatted for a couple minutes about what had been going on in her life. I had just spoken to her over Thanksgiving and hadn’t spoken to her, before that, for around 30 years.

It seems she was in the middle of a bad marriage, thankfully had no kids and had recently cleaned up after a life of drugs and alcohol. Obviously, the demons hidden by the drugs and drinking were too much for her to handle and, not getting the help she obviously needed, she saw no other way or reason to continue living. I’m sure all of us can come up with a million things we could have told her to try to convince her that life was worth the effort. I felt a bit of guilt when I heard the news; I think that’s a natural thing. When I spoke to her I didn’t notice anything out of order in the things we talked about but, still, I wish I had noticed something was amiss. I hadn’t spoken to her in decades, I truly didn’t know the person I was chatting with and she gave no indication of what was to come.

I’ve always had different feelings than most about suicide. Don’t misunderstand what I’m about to say; I don’t want anyone to kill themselves. I do, however, understand the feeling of wanting to end ones life. I’ve always felt that there are certain people that are just “wired” wrong. Well, wrong isn’t the right word. Let’s just say that they aren’t meant to live this thing we call life. I seriously think that it just happens to some and though we, as a society, have been taught that life is so precious, it’s not that way for everyone.

Of course I believe that we should try to help those that truly feel this way. I can imagine little worse than dealing with these demons on a daily basis. I’ve had my own issues over the years and I know it’s a tough road to hoe. I’m not saying we should have some sort of panel to decide if it’s ok for one to end up killing themselves, I don’t pretend to think that’s a good idea. I just think we need to try to understand those that are in such a position, mentally, and not just write them off as weak or crazy. Life isn’t an easy task, and it is a task, some are just incapable of making it through to its natural conclusion.

I don’t know all the circumstances of this person I had just started talking to again and I hope she did find some happiness in her short life. What I won’t do is blame her for deciding life wasn’t worth the effort. I think that’s the least we owe these friends and family members of people that loved them.

They're Only Thoughts

I spend a lot of my time trying to protect myself from harm. I think if you have read any of my previous posts you know what it is I’m talking about. I’ve always had a hard time making myself comfortable in pretty much any environment I find myself, no matter who I’m with or what I’m doing, out in the real world, I can literally bury myself in thoughts of self doubt so deep it’s almost certain to have a direct effect on the enjoyment of whatever I’m doing.

Lately I’ve been trying to find those “happy” places and identify them at the moment they occur. It seems that my only true comfort zone is when I’m at work. It’s got little to do with liking my job. There’s a feeling I get when doing the grocery store thing that just settles me in ways I can’t seem to find anywhere else. I was chatting with a friend the other day and tried to explain what I mean by that.

It all seems to come down to those damn expectations I work so hard at denying. When I’m at work, the expectations are set; the variables are few as there is always a solid plan that I have to follow. In real life, things are too wide open. There are too many ways to do each and every little thing. I have to be at work at a certain time. I have to perform certain functions and have a kind of map for all the tasks I have to do. There are certain ways to do this and that and, after years of practice, I’ve become pretty good at it.

Outside of work things are quite different. There’s nobody telling me what needs to be done, how to perform each task and, worst of all, this free will thing. I have too many choices and my fear of anything that requires commitment rules pretty much everything I do. Some friends and I joke about it sometimes. My first response to any question involving plans of any sort is either a quick “no” or a “let me see what’s going on” while I scramble for a way to ensure I have a valid, for me, excuse not to attend whatever it is I’m working so hard at avoiding.

It really doesn’t matter how much I’ll enjoy whatever the invite is for, I automatically switch to excuse mode. I think the problem is time. There’s always too much time between the invite and the event and I spend the duration of that time fighting within myself about wanting to do whatever it is and convincing myself that nobody really wants me there anyway. I know, that’s crazy. Why would they ask and all that other stuff. It doesn’t matter though. The thoughts are real and, as we all know, perception is reality.

Logic? Don't Look Here

There have always been times in my life, as I’m sure we can all say, that I’ve questioned the point of it all. I, however, happen to do this more often than anyone I know. I think the reason I do it more than others is simply a case of my own laziness. When most people do this self-examination thing, they usually find something in their makeup that they want to change and they go about finding a way to do just that. They take a class, they start an exercise regimen, they do something, anything to try to self-correct whatever it is that’s bothering them.

I, on the other hand, always have good intentions but never, and I mean never, have attempted to take that first step towards changing whatever it is that I don’t like. Oh, I think about it, I plan it and tell myself that today is the day and all that other stuff we tell ourselves. Then the idea of the task hits me and I just let it go by the wayside. Oh, I still question everything it’s just that the question I ask is more along the lines of “Why me”? Or, “how much longer is this gonna last”? Like either of those are valid on any level.

Lately it seems the questions are more frequent than usual. I always get this way during the holidays and I’ll gladly attribute my feelings to the season. I’m thinking that maybe turning 50 in a couple months may be adding to the malaise too. Not because I’m feeling that mortality thing, not even close, more along the lines of what a waste of time it and I have been. I know, I know, we all question where we are and what we’ve done. I also know, as I’ve written about on numerous occasions, that we all have regrets. Here’s the rub: I have always been uncomfortable in my own skin. I’ve never wanted to be me. I know, once again, numerous people feel that way. My bigger issue is that I don’t want to be anyone else either. So what are the options? Kill myself? Never gonna happen, for reasons that have been discussed over and over again. So I sit and whine about my life and for reasons nobody I know can explain, write about it. I guess it beats talking to myself while walking in the mall.

I go out and see people, everyone having a good time, and I’m just burning up inside. I touched on this a bit in my last post but it’s a jealousy thing. Why can’t I enjoy it as much as they are? I literally find myself getting mad at them, like how dare they have this joy that I find so elusive. I look at the pictures and see everyone doing these normal social activities, which any adult should have wired at this point in their lives, and all I can do is look for the escape. First to my car then to my chair where I melt into this thing of nothingness that does nothing but get me more upset about the whole thing. It’s a constant that’s been with me for as long as I can remember. Not being part of this social scene is always an option and it does beg the question of why I do it. I have this ultimate fear of what I’d turn into if I didn’t go out and attend these functions. It’s a good thing I have to work because I could so easily find myself slipping into a reclusive lifestyle and hating myself even more for it.

You know what’s even worse? This all makes sense to me.

A Jumbled Mass Of...

One of these days I’ll figure out what it is about Holidays that I find, I don’t know, maddening. It’s the day after Thanksgiving and I’m finding myself actually getting upset about it. I find it so hard to articulate what the feelings are, but they’re always there. It’s almost like a jealousy thing. I find myself almost more bothered by the fact that everyone else is enjoying the season than by the idea of the Holidays themselves.

I have to tread lightly in what I’m trying to say so as not to offend anyone here and I don’t want anyone to think I don’t enjoy the time I spend with family and friends. I’ve always had a hard time understanding why we have, in the case of Thanksgiving, one day where we are “thankful”. Seriously, do we really need to be reminded to be thankful, if that’s what you are, for what we have? It just seems so, I don’t know, contrived sometimes. I know, it’s always a good thing to be reminded but seriously, it seems that we’re more interested in the Black Friday deals than we are in the Holiday anyway, so why not just pick any day during any month and have a nice meal with family and friends? I know, most of us already do that; it’s called having a social life. See? This is why it’s so exhausting being me. All day yesterday, these were the thoughts going through my head.

Yesterday, as I sat in my chair, knowing I’d be heading up to Karen’s in a short while, I started having one of my typical panicky moments. I actually broke out in a sweat at the thought of having dinner with those closest to me. How ridiculous is that? What harm could possibly happen to me by what the day held?

My nephew called with an extra ticket to the Lions game and I quickly accepted. Of course going to a Thanksgiving game is cool and the drive, first to the stadium and then to Lansing, was something I looked forward to. I think the drive helps me in situations like this. I downloaded a number of episodes of “This American Life” onto the phone and listened to one on the way to the game and another two going to Lansing. Getting caught up in what I’m listening to doesn’t afford the time to dwell on the whole social thing facing me when I get to my destination. Of course dinner and family were wonderful, always is. I just have such a hard time convincing myself of that before the fact.

Tonight is that Bar Night thing I wrote about last year. Hundreds of folks from my High School gather at a local venue and have an all class reunion if you will. I’ve known about it for months and, though slowly, I’ve become more and more nervous about it as the time gets closer. I want to go. I want to see everyone. I wish I could just close my eyes and be in the middle of the place, surrounded by everyone instead of spending the day knowing that I am going there. In this case, I know that the juice is worth the squeeze. The squeeze is just so painful sometimes that I just want to hide myself in a closet and never be found. I’m working today and by the time I get off the shindig will have already started. I simply dread the ride to the venue; it’s too short a distance to entrance myself in a radio show. I want to just blink my eyes and, you know…

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

A little over two years ago, many of my friends, along with myself, joined the social networking site, Facebook. I’ve written on numerous occasions how I feel about the site and can never really put into words how much it’s literally changed who I am. I know there are many out there that appreciate it just as much. It’s allowed us to reacquaint ourselves with our youth and, to me, it’s been an incredible journey. The education I’ve gained from this journey is one that’s helped me in more ways than one could count.

Lately I’ve noticed a number of folks talking about how bored they are with the site. How they aren’t having fun with it any longer. I find it a bit humorous that the people they are talking to about this are the same people they would have never even spoken to if it weren’t for Facebook.

I was chatting with a friend, I would never be talking to if not for FB, about this very subject the other day and came up with this idea of what seems to be happening. I told her we were all like kids that had just moved onto the same block at the same time. We all, at the beginning, would go out and play everyday, with everyone. As is with most neighborhood kids, we soon found our own little group of friends that we would play with more than others. The problem, as I’m sure you all remember, is that eventually the wonder of it all would somehow disappear. The process would take time, almost unnoticeable, until eventually you lose touch and would only see each other on rare occasions.

It’s kind of funny the way things have worked out. If you think about it, it really does mirror our actual lives. You move away and go to college, get a job, get married and raise a family. In the process, you lose touch with most of the friends of your youth. It’s nothing personal, you just grow up.

Well, just as in my youth, I’m not sure I’m ready to grow up. I don’t want to lose touch with all my friends on the block. It’s meant way too much to me and I’m not sure I can afford the loss. I know I’ve depended on these cyber friendships more than most and many out there laugh at my addiction to the whole thing. Be that as it may, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going away to college. I’m not getting married. I’m staying at home, living with my parents, as it were. I have no problem being thought of as “that guy” we all knew of back then.

I was at work a few weeks ago and a guy came through my checkout line. I’d never seen him before and when I said “Hi”, he responded with, “ I know you, you’re the funniest guy on Facebook”. It turns out he’s a friend of a friend and sees some of the stuff I post. It felt kind of cool, being almost famous like. I’ve met a number of people that have told me they knew me from the site. I like that, it’s a real good feeling and one I’m not willing to let go away. So, you guys that want to go away to college, go ahead. I’ll be right here if you want to come back and play a game of pick-up football in the street. Remember, two completions or two squares for a first down.

How Incredibly Sad

There is a story here in the local papers about a 14-year-old girl that filed Statutory Rape charges against an 18-year-old boy at her school. The police were investigating the case and charges were filed against the young man. It soon became public and the 14-year-old child was interviewed on television. She gave her side of the story, with her identity hidden and, though there’s no way to know if she was telling the truth, sounded pretty credible. I don’t pretend to know much about the case, didn’t really pay much attention to it, shame on me. My natural assumption was that this guy forced himself on this child and that he was nothing but garbage. Well, it turns out, there was, and is, so much more to the story.

There are always three sides to every story. The first of which is what we’ve heard on the news. The third is the fact that this poor kid hung herself earlier this week and a young life ended far too soon. The second side of the story is more confusing than one could imagine. I’m pasting a story from today’s Free Press into this post for all to see. It’s an opinion piece, yet gives us all a better view into the events that took place.

Teen's life too short -- and too public
BY BRIAN DICKERSON
DETROIT FREE PRESS COLUMNIST

Under Michigan law, it is illegal to have sex with a 14-year-old girl, even if she consents.

But there's no law against broadcasting on television the same 14-year-old's account of her sexual activity. And that's a shame, because if there were such a law, Samantha Kelly might still be alive today.
Late on Sept. 26, Samantha's mother, June Justice, told Huron Township police that her daughter, a freshman at Huron High School, admitted having sexual intercourse with Joseph Tarnopolski, an 18-year-old senior who lived eight homes down the road from theirs.
In a handwritten statement and two separate interviews conducted outside her mother's presence, Samantha said she and Tarnopolski had sex for two hours one morning while Tarnopolski's parents were away. She admitted telling Tarnopolski that she was anxious to lose her virginity. Police later found text message exchanges supporting the two teenagers' accounts that their sexual encounter had been consensual.
Those accounts, coupled with the fact that Samantha was too young to consent legally to sexual contact with anyone, gave prosecutors the grounds to charge Tarnopolski with third-degree criminal sexual conduct, a felony punishable by up to 15 years in prison and 25 years on Michigan's public sex offender registry.
Fox 2's version of the story
These would surely qualify as seismic events in the lives of any two teenagers. But for Samantha Kelly and Joseph Tarnopolski, things were about to get much worse.
In early October, distressed by the hostility her daughter faced at school from Tarnopolski and his friends, June Justice contacted Detroit's Fox News affiliate, WJBK-TV (Channel 2). On Oct. 18, the station broadcast a 21/2-minute segment in which Samantha, accompanied on-screen by her mother, charged for the first time that Tarnopolski had forced himself on her. An anchor's introduction to the piece called it a case of rape.
The issue of coercion was irrelevant to the statutory charge prosecutors had lodged against Tarnopolski. But the Channel 2 broadcast complicated the case in two ways.
First, it introduced a new version of events inconsistent with both Samantha's previous accounts and her text messages to the defendant.
Second, it turned what had been a closely held secret into general knowledge among the 850 students at Huron High. Many sided with Tarnopolski, a popular upperclassman who vehemently denied Samantha's allegations of coercion and branded his accuser a liar.
Where were grown-ups?
Wednesday, a day after Samantha hanged herself in her family's home, June Justice charged that the taunting and bullying her daughter had endured in the last three weeks had directly precipitated her suicide. But that's hardly the whole story.
Surely, Samantha's decision to go public with her allegations -- supported by her mother and abetted by Fox 2 journalists -- left the 14-year-old dramatically more exposed to criticism and ridicule. The WJBK segment blurred Samantha's face, but the station broadcast clear video images of Tarnopolski, Justice and Huron High, and identified all three by name. The segment's prime-time airing ended both Samantha's anonymity and her alleged attacker's interest in keeping his own version of events to himself.
Then there was the new charge of coercion. Prosecutors frankly doubted the revised account Samantha had provided in the WJBK broadcast, and warned that they would not abet any attempt to exaggerate the circumstances of her encounter with Tarnopolski in his preliminary examination, which was scheduled for Wednesday.
It's reasonable to conclude that Samantha knew she was in for a humiliating experience if Tarnopolski's lawyers were permitted to cross-examine her. She knew she'd be asked to reconcile the differences between the account she had given prosecutors and the one she gave for TV. Had she simply neglected to mention in those initial interviews that she had been forcibly raped? Or had she embellished her account after some of her peers questioned her decision to press charges?
That's how it was bound to go down on the witness stand: Was she lying then -- or lying now?
The end of the world
Any adult would shrink from such an experience. To a 14-year-old, it must have looked like the end of the world -- and for Samantha Kelly, it was.
In court Wednesday, after the charges against Tarnopolski were dismissed, June Justice railed at the high school peers who taunted her daughter.
"All them peers really need to think now, more than they ever have before, what they did," she said. "I want to know how they're sleeping."
But teenagers didn't put a 14-year-old freshman in front of a TV camera and broadcast her teenage angst to the world.


There’s really not much more to say after reading this. Yes, schoolyard taunting had a great deal to do with this and we should all pay attention to it. we’re reading and hearing far too many stories related to it. it’s that second side to the story that makes me wonder even more about where we, as a society, have gone. It’s all such a shame on so many levels.

All Those Little Pieces

I know this guy, known him for close to 40 years, that everyone I know agrees is a bit strange. Nothing terrible, he’s a good guy and has a lot of friends, there’s just something a bit “off” about him. I find myself getting frustrated beyond belief every time I’m with him for any extended amount of time and that has made me wonder about a few things.

I wonder what it is that allows me to set the standard of what being a bit off is? I’m thinking that we all have to use ourselves as the measuring stick when it comes to these things. I mean, this friend for instance, he sits around and wonders about others just like the rest of us. While doing this, “normal” is him. His standard is himself, as it seems it should be. I can’t see how there can be any other measuring device. When any of us are talking to others about someone, and we all do, we’re comparing them to ourselves and that begs the bigger issue. How are you, me, or any other person, the standard?

I know when it comes to me, at times people must think I’m as weird as it gets. I sit and write about every issue that confronts me and put it out for the entire world to see. That’s certainly not the standard of the vast majority of people. Yet, in my mind, it’s the normal thing to do. I often wonder what I’d think if one of my friends did the same thing. Odds are I’d be talking to friends about this person and we’d all agree, this guy aint right.

I’m not saying that it’s anything so bad that we push someone completely out of our lives but don’t we all, whether we like it or not, feel that everyone is a bit “off” at times? Of course we do. I think that’s part of being human. We have that ability to look past the faults of others. The question is, who decides the faults? It’s you, it’s me, it’s the inner being of all of us.

We’re all a little broken in some way. I’ve stated on numerous occasions that I’ve got more issues than T.V. Guide but somehow they’re forgiven by the world at large and I’m able to go along my little immature life without being constantly hammered about it. I can’t imagine what life would be like if we were called onto the carpet for all our idiosyncrasies.

In A New York Minute

A friend of mine that I went to school with replied to an email I had sent her with news that can never be easy. She said she was sorry she couldn’t attend the Halloween party I had asked about because she was out of town. She told me she was in Florida because her Sister had died. Wow, tough note to receive, so much harder to write.

The thoughts that ran through my head were many. First of course was sorrow at what my friend and her family were going through, what a tragic event for anyone. I hadn’t even known she had a sister. I sent my condolences and let her know that I was here if she needed anything, the typical response to such news. What else does one say. I mentioned the incident to a few friends but didn’t want to spread the news very far simply because it’s not my place to decide how and when people hear such news.

Whenever anything like this happens, I think we all have the same type of reaction. The sorrow is obvious but at some point we internalize the news and, at least in my case, think of my own family. I sent my own Sister a note telling her about it and said that the news made me think of her and that I just wanted her to know that I was thinking of her and loved her. She responded by saying thanks and said that I had made her day. That was nice to hear.

At my age I think most folks live away from many members of their family. Friends have moved on with their lives and you just don’t get to see people as much as you’d sometimes like. My siblings are spread out, Karen’s in East Lansing, David is in Chicago and Steve’s in Orlando. Obviously we don’t see each other very often, as a matter of fact, the last time we were all together was when Karen got married around six years ago or so. The point I’m trying to make is the fact that, no matter how sad this sounds, I may never see any of them again. I know we can say that about anyone at any time. Hell, something could happen today and I may not see my next-door neighbor after I just saw him drive away this morning. Kind of freaks me out.

I’m not saying anything here that hasn’t been said before. I realize that life happens and we have no control over so many things, I just think about this stuff when something like this happens. I don’t know how close my friend was with her sister; I do know she couldn’t have seen her very often as she lived in Florida. It’s just that the idea that I may not see any of those important to me ever again kinda scares me. I guess it’s just a part of getting older that can’t be too pleasant.

Can You See The Real Me

Was at a friend’s place a few weeks ago when an incident happened that required the help of all the guys that were there. Someone had driven their car into a position that made it necessary for a number of us to go out and literally pick up the car in order for it to be able to move. While all the guys were dealing with the car, a number of the women that were there came out and watched. While this was happening, one of the women commented to me, while laughing, about how it was a macho fest kind of thing going on. Another woman that was there with us said that it wasn’t true for me. She told this woman that I was the most real person around and we all three laughed.

I’ve been thinking about that statement lately and I think I like it. I like the idea of being thought of that way. I think it means that I’m not looked at as one that puts on airs and I think that’s a good thing. I’m quite sure my writing has led to that kind of thought about me and I’m also just as sure that women feel that way about me more than men. Whereas my male friends make fun of me on a regular basis for my “sensitivity”, they still read the blog and I know I’ve struck a chord with a number of guys just from the reactions I’ve received from a number of posts. I think I say what they want to but would never say in public. Women, on the other hand, seem to “get” what I’m saying and tell me so on a regular basis. I’ve always said I write for chicks and if you’ve been a blog follower for the last few years, you know what I mean.

I think I’m the way I am, as most are, because of the way I grew up. Having a single Mother during my teen years and my sister pretty much raising us when I was very small obviously had a huge influence on my thought process. I think my brothers are also in step with me on this emotional level, though they’ve always done a better job of throwing on the macho air I spoke of earlier. They each have followed my writing regularly and have shared their thoughts on numerous posts both as comments on the blog and through conversations we’ve had.

So, I think this real thing can mean a few things. Yes, I write with a great deal of emotion and I’m not afraid to show my “feminine” side. I also think it means I’m kind of in touch with how most of my friends think. I look at that statement and it looks so, I don’t know, ego driven. Anyone who knows me knows that a large ego is nothing I ever have to deal with as I regularly suffer from the complete opposite.
I make the statement because of the notes and comments I’ve received over the years. Not only from friends but from folks I’ve never even met. It’s a pretty cool feeling to write what I feel and find I’m not the only one thinking that way. It’s rather freeing, if that makes sense. Sort of gives validation to this jumbled mass of thoughts that are constantly running around up stairs.

A Drop In The Bucket

You notice the little things in life. The smallest changes in my everyday living seem so inconsequential yet, noticing them gives me pause as I think of the reasons for said changes. I notice that I’m only filling my gas tank only once every two weeks now that I’m working. When I was unemployed I would buy gas at least once a week. The obvious reason for the change is that I’m working six days a week, I don’t have time to do much driving and therefore, well, obviously I don’t need to buy gas as often as I used to.

Since I was a teenager I, like many others, have always had a coffee can or one of those large water bottles that I throw change into. I’d dig into it when I needed some gas in the car or, back when I was a smoker, a pack of cigarettes. When I moved to California I’d go to Tijuana and buy one of those ceramic “Piggy” Banks you could always find on the road. After I got married I remember Shelly and I bought one in the design of a Big Mac. The kids were very young and we decided to always empty our pockets into the “Mac” at the end of each day. After a number of months we gathered in the Living Room and cracked it open. It was quite the family event as we had told the Kids we’d get them a surprise with the money we had in the “Mac”. We ended up with about three hundred dollars and we took the kids to Disneyland and we all had a great time.

I currently have one of those water bottles that I spoke of earlier. I empty my pockets of any change and drop it into it on a daily basis and it can quickly amass a decent amount of cash that can be used for anything I may need in a pinch. While I was out of work it was quite the savior for a number of “emergencies”. After a while there wasn’t much left and it had stopped serving any purpose except to take up some space in my room.

Getting back to work I’ve noticed a change in the bottle. The level is going back in the right direction and it’s getting more silver into it again. When you are constantly digging into it, the silver is the first to leave the confines and eventually, all you have left is the copper color of pennies. I actually do what I can to not spend any of the change I gather during the day. I like to empty my pockets and drop it into the bottle when I get home. Like I said, it’s the little things in life that get noticed.

The C Word

I haven’t written much lately and that’s simply a case of my mind being in a decent place. I found work at a place that, so far, seems like something right up my alley. That’s a good thing. I like the type of work, the give and take with the people is something I’ve always enjoyed and have always been really good at. It’s been about a month now and I feel I’m getting into a comfort zone. That being said, that comfort zone has allowed other things into my head, some good, some not so good. I feel I am now getting the time to think about old things and allow new stuff to enter into this body of contemplation that’s been dormant for the last month or so.

Over the last number of months there seems to be a rash of cases of my friends or their family members being diagnosed with Cancer. They’ve been diagnosed with different types but the disease is just as devastating to their bodies, their minds and their entire circle of loved ones. My brother Steve was diagnosed with Cancer of the Liver almost two years ago and he was fortunate enough to have a transplant in a rather short space of time and he’s “cured”. I use the quotes there because I wonder if anyone is ever really cured. The games this insidious disease must play with ones mind is something I can only view as an observer and it’s so far reaching that I’ve felt like I’ve swung and missed at every pitch.

Since I’m more involved with the victims in these cases I’m able to see, on a daily basis, the effects Cancer has on an entire circle of people that surrounds the actual victim. I, along with many others, have seen instances of strength and courage normally reserved for World War II movies and have swelled with pride just watching these demonstrations both from a distance and up close. We’ve also all seen the damage done to this same circle of people mentioned above.

The more people I talk to about it, the more I realize that nobody is immune to this most evil of words I’ve ever heard or spoken. I, personally, currently know seven people that are either fighting Cancer or, just as sadly, have a family member dealing with it. I can’t do much else but think of these heroes every minute of the day and hope the pain they feel will soon go away. I post my status on Facebook on a frequent basis and have decided to honor these bravest of people by adding that number of friends that are facing this issue head on. I’m sure it’ll need updating and hopefully not just adding to the number. My little way of honoring them, if you know what I mean.

Cancer. What an ugly, ugly word. I can’t imagine anything decent being thought of about it. I’ve always been taught that names of things are capitalized when written out. I don’t think Cancer deserves that kind of respect. It’s a small little protest but I won’t use capital letters when writing it anymore. cancer, you don’t look so intimidating now.

An Old Post Revisited

Another sleepless night spent beating myself up over things I’m sure others would find unimportant. I just can’t seem to turn my brain off on these occasions and when my head starts sifting through thoughts, well, it’s always the bad ones that stick. I sift through the thoughts and almost everyone begins with the words, “I wish”.

One of the first posts I ever put up on the blog was titled “I Wish”. I was just rereading it and it’s pretty amazing how encompassing it is. I thought I’d reprint it here with a few updates and omissions. This is what I do when I can’t sleep and I’m feeling the world is coming down all around me. Thanks for your indulgence:


I wish I didn't make fun of that girl named Jean in Mrs. Mitchell's class in third grade.

I wish I wasn't a fat kid growing up. I'm sure my self-confidence would have been much higher throughout my twenties after I lost all that weight.

I wish Lucky would go lay down when I tell her to.

I wish Lucky knew how much good she has done for me over the last few years.

I wish my wife had never asked me why I found something funny, just let me find it funny.

I wish I could relive the month of May 1984 every month.

I wish I hadn't turned down the opportunity to dance with people that mattered.
I wish I didn't listen to certain songs over and over again when all they do is make me cry.

I wish I could explain why certain songs mean so much to me.

I wish I were better at double jeopardy. I have single whipped.

I wish I wasn't so afraid to be touched.

I wish I didn't long to be touched so badly.

I wish I were as good a singer in public as I am in my car.

I wish the television show "Freaks and Geeks" lasted longer.

I wish I still worked at the Vons on Balboa and Genesee.

I wish I liked to drink alcohol.

I wish I were a better Father.

I wish I had been a better Husband.

I wish I knew how to talk to my son.

I wish I had a belief in a higher power, for all the wrong reasons.

I wish people could understand how I don't.

I wish people didn't take their public lives so seriously, lighten up, I find it hard enough to make it through my private life.

I wish I didn't like Carly Simon's "The Carter Family" so much.

I wish I wasn't such a chick.

I wish I had the courage to backpack through Europe when I was younger.

I wish I had the courage to do it now.

I wish I had seen "Dances With Wolves" on the big screen.

I wish they would still let you go to the gate at airports to sit and wait for your party to arrive just so I could see all those emotions that I adore.

I wish it didn't cost $550 to put new tires on my car.

I wish money did grow on trees.

I wish I did have stock in the electric company.

I wish public speakers would pronounce immediately correctly, it's not ahmediately.

I wish I didn't have so much time on my hands.

I wish I didn't wear a watch. (I don’t anymore)

I wish I owned a professional baseball team. (Just to see all the games for free).

I wish I could be my friend.

I wish I could figure out why I find that so difficult.

More Daddy Issues

About a week ago I got a comment on a post that I found really interesting. Someone had stumbled across the blog and recognized my last name. It seems she used to work for my Dad when he owned the “ Head Shop” in Wyandotte when I was young. She said that Dad had given her a job at a tough time in her life and had made her feel safe. It was really a very nice comment and an even nicer thing to say about Dad. I called Dad and told him about it. He didn’t remember her by name but said it felt really good to hear the comment and that he had helped a number of kids back then. It also brought a number of conflicting thoughts into my head.

The first being the question of why not me? Why did he find it so easy to become so emotionally involved in some complete strangers life yet couldn’t tell you the date of any of his kid’s birthdays? I know, it is what it is and nothing can ever change that. I do, however, find myself getting these feelings of jealousy whenever anyone tells me about what a great guy he was. It’s really something to hear others talk about him like that. I have no doubt that Dad was a hero to many a scared kid that would happen upon the “Shake Shop”, that was the name of the store he had back then. It’s a very positive thing for him to be remembered like that. As I’ve said, there are probably numerous “kids” that recall him in a fond manner. It does, however, just go to help explain what I’ve said so many times before.

The relationship he had with these kids was plastic. It made it easy for him to shine. The woman who wrote the note about him said that those that hung around the store never knew him outside the “Shake Shop” and I think she, and anyone else in her position at the time, believe the man they knew to be different in his “personal” life. The sad thing is that she’s probably right. He was very different at home. He simply wasn’t there emotionally. It’s so strange to think that the things he could give to these total strangers so easily, were unavailable to his family. I know my brothers and sister would have gladly taken that plastic Phil that others were afforded but it wasn’t an option. We had the Dad we had and that’s what we have to live with. So be it.

If I were to talk to Dad today about any of this, he wouldn’t get it. I’m totally convinced that he thinks he was the same at home as he was at the shop. That he was the cool guy that made us feel safe just like the woman who wrote the note felt. Ok, let him believe it. There really is nothing to be gained from trying to hurt him. I know that he got the warm and fuzzies just hearing what this woman said about him and that’s a good thing. I don’t think I would have told him if she had said anything disparaging. There just wouldn’t be any point to it. He feels good about what I told him and I think I’ll just leave it at that. I feel good when I write about it so I’ll also leave it at that.

No Place Like Home

A couple years ago I posted a list of some of the things I’ve learned. It wasn’t anything serious, just a number of bullet points that I happened to have thought of on that day. One of the things I’ve also done on this blog is admit to a number of things I haven’t learned. That’s never easy for anyone to do and I’ve always found it to be an unpleasant experience. It’s never a picnic to admit ones faults and I just happen to be the kind of guy that always seems to focus on mine. It’s only within the last few years that I started writing about them and I’m sure there are many out there that are pretty tired of hearing it and for that, I apologize. I can’t help the things that are in my head and writing about them seems to help me in this never ending endeavor we happen to call life.

Something that has really come to the forefront over the years since my divorce is the idea of something I don’t seem to have ever learned and that is the ability to take care of myself. I left my mothers house in 1980 and literally floundered, with no real direction, for the next 10 years until I got married. While married, I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful wife that did an amazing job at helping me hide this corruption within my being. We’d argue about it once in a while but it was something we pretty much kept hidden within ourselves for 15 years or so. Seriously, if I’d been any better at growing up into what we all call “normal” adulthood, odds are I’d still be married and living within my own family unit. I don’t think I’ve ever admitted to Shelly, though she always knew, and the kids that I wouldn’t have made it for as long as I did without them. For this, I can never thank them enough.

I moved to Florida and floated around for a couple years and jumped at the first opportunity to move to Lansing simply because, deep down, I knew with my Mother and Sister around there’d be someone close to help me get by. I then found all these people from my hometown and thought I’d be strong enough to move away from the family and moved down to Detroit. I’ve never been too shy to tell all these people how wonderful it’s been being surrounded by this “family” I’ve found. What I haven’t done is admit to myself the idea of how, during my present situation, I could have never made it this long without them. It is truly indescribable how vital to my own well being these people have been and continue to be. I can’t imagine what I’d do without them. They are my new parents, wife, family, and most important of all, they are my friends. True friends. Friends that I could have never imagined I’d be worthy of in my entire life. It doesn’t seem to bother them in the least that I’m still this totally unprepared child in an adult body and the love I feel from them, each and every day, is something I can’t see myself ever getting over.

The gratitude I owe to my parents, Shelly, the kids and all these people here is a gratitude that can never be repaid and I’m sorry for that. All I can really do is thank each and every one of you and hope that they know that this is truly from the heart. Thanks for helping me feel I have a “home” wherever I’ve been. I just can’t imagine anyone being as fortunate in these matters as I’ve been.

Ball Of Confusion

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Jew; 

Then they came for me - and there was no one left to speak out for me.

I’m always one to engage in good debate. I can argue any side and sound like I know what I’m talking about. It’s something I’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. I’ve been accused of picking a side just to start an argument and it’s probably a valid criticism. I really don’t care so much about the end result, I just find that something usually comes out in these verbal tussles that interests me and I’ll go home and start to read about it. I can’t think of a time when I was truly stumped and was incapable of coming up with a valid response to something someone has said during these debates. Well, that is, until last night.

I was at a friends’ house with a number of others and the conversation turned to the Mosque being built near where the 9/11 attacks took place. Like I said, I enjoy a good argument so I thought we could really have some fun here. One of the guys there, someone I’ve known and has been a friend for almost 40 years, joined in and said he felt that all Muslims should be thrown out of the country. I was aghast. I wanted to make sure I heard him correctly and asked him a question that would help me clarify what I had just heard. Again, he stated that every Muslim in the country should be kicked out.

I was in shock. Here was someone I’ve known since I was a little kid saying things that I thought only those bigots you see on those documentaries said. I asked, if this was allowed what would stop a movement to kick all Jewish people out of the country and his response was that it would never happen. When I asked why he said that Muslims were different. Here’s the thing that really threw me: He was as serious as serious could be. I tried to explain that I thought it was a real dangerous and slippery slope to be on when we start picking which group or religion to legislate for or against but it was quite apparent that it was a useless argument from that point on.

I sit in confusion about the things I heard last night. I’m not sure how I’ll react when I see him again. I mean, we didn’t fight or argue the rest of the night away but I know it’ll be odd. I guess I’m naive in thinking that the people I grew up with would at least have their thoughts to be somewhat near mine. I don’t expect everyone to have my political beliefs but to me, this thinking is so archaic that it defies logic. I think I’m feeling a little hurt by my friends’ thoughts. I can’t see a common ground to meet him on in this yet I don’t see myself eliminating him from my life. It’s a little confusing.

I Just Can't Let It Go

I took one of those little tours of my old hometown the other day. Drove by the old haunts, the park, the Teen Center, old schools and neighborhood. I probably shouldn’t have cuz I woke up in a little bit of a down mood and that, to me, is never a good time to revisit the past. Whenever I’m in this kind of mood and do this my head takes me through all those regrets I’m sure we all have at certain points but seem to be a regular visitor in my mind.

I drive by my old schools and can’t help but get down about how hard I tried not to try. See the old baseball fields I used to play on and can’t help but remember quitting simply because it became an effort that I wasn’t willing to give. I could go on and on about those times and places where I see a point where a simple change of a decision could have made drastic changes to where I am today. I know, we all have these regrets and I’m not alone. I just happen to be the kind of guy that thinks about these things more than most and it obviously doesn’t do me any good.

It was raining, and being the self-loathing idiot that I am, I took a walk around the park, leaving my umbrella in the car. Here’s a place that I, along with so many others, spent most of my teen years. Everything I saw and everyplace I went would take me to a memory of my youth along with questions of why I did what I did in each instance. Why didn’t I stay with everyone when they all decided to do this or that? Why’d I go home when everyone else wanted to hang out at the Bonfire? Analyzing each step I took reminded me of Shrink and I talking on numerous occasions. She’d always say. “It must be so exhausting just being you.” and she’s right.

Of course I had my IPOD and it was just running through a random set of songs. It’s funny how, and I’ve mentioned it before, songs sometimes just appear at the very moment they make the most sense. “Heart Of The Matter” started playing and it came to the verse:

"There are people in your life
who’ve come and gone.
They let you down.
You know, they hurt your pride.

You better put it all behind you babe,
cuz life goes on.
You keep carrying that anger
It’ll eat you up inside.”

That person whose come and gone more times than I could ever count is me. I find it so hard to put it all behind me and move on, always have. I try though. I swear I do. Shrink’s right, it really is exhausting.

The song itself is about forgiveness. In this case it’s me that needs to forgive myself and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

It Just Doesn't Make Me Laugh

Ok, I have something to admit to. It’s something I’ve been hiding since 1980. Something that most certainly puts me in the minority of most people in my generation. Something that has, in the past, had people tell me how crazy I am and actually raise their voices about. I don’t find the movie, “Caddyshack” very funny. There, I’ve said it. Let the rock flinging begin, I can take it.

It’s really something what happens when I tell people this. I am barraged with a litany of lines from the movie. Each one is prefaced with, “what about when” and then some part of the movie is recounted for me. If I’m in a group of three or four people, this can last for a good 10 minutes. I take it like a man, nodding and giving the fake laugh we all give when we don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings because they’re sounding like an idiot.

I probably know more lines from the movie than anyone just from people trying to convince me that it’s the funniest movie ever. I understand that you find it funny but the more you try to convince me, the more I’m going to find it a bore. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.

There, I’ve said it in public. I feel like I can breathe again. Like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel like screaming from the top of a mountain. “I don’t like Caddyshack” over and over again. Please don’t try to convince me that I’m wrong, it’s not gonna happen; you’d be wasting your time.

Man, that was tough. I think I need a nap

Rock Of The 80's

One of my favorite memories of my adult life happened in 1983 when I was driving home to San Diego from a weekend in Arizona. As I was coming out of the mountains into Southern California I picked up my first radio station in what seemed like hours. “91X, The Rock Of The Eighties.” Were the first words I heard from the DJ and he started a record that, though I never was a big fan of, changed my listening habits as it pertained to the style of music I paid attention to for at least the next 10 years.

There was something about this music that, though it was so different in many ways, brought my head back to those pop songs I loved so much from when I was a small child. Bands with names like “The Jam”, “The Clash” and “Squeeze” were putting out wonderful pop songs with great, meaningful lyrics that sounded so fresh and exciting. It was a far cry from what all my friends were listening to when I left Detroit just three short years earlier. I couldn’t imagine going to see “Haircut 100” or “The English Beat” with any of those guys yet, to everyone I was with in California, this was the only thing to see or hear.

I was out with a friend the other night and we were talking about the music of our youth. He was saying how much he liked this band or that band, each being one of those guitar rock bands we all listened to in High School. I told him I really had a hard time listening to that stuff. I found myself looking for bands from 10 years later in our lives to bring me that nostalgic feel he was talking about. We were talking about a number of those bands from the 70’s that were still touring and I said I really didn’t see myself going to very many of those shows. Show me a concert featuring any of the above-mentioned bands though and I’d be there in a heartbeat.

I play around on You Tube all the time, finding songs from these “New Wave” or “Punk” bands, as they were known back then. I still find the sounds fresh and exciting. Give me three minutes or so of that toe tapping stuff over swooning guitars any day. I sometimes wish I was born five years later than I was simply to be able to feel the excitement with my old friends when one of these bands come to town.

Make Me Laugh

One of the great joys of my life has always been live comedy. One of the most exciting days of my life was when I turned 21 simply because it meant I could go to the Comedy Store in San Diego. I was a fanatic. I would go every Friday and Saturday night, usually to the late show because I found that since there was no real time limit, there were more possibilities of something happening that wasn’t planned. I was there when Howie Mandel took the crowd out of the place and led us in a walk to the local 7-11 store to get a pack of cigarettes. That couldn’t have happened at the early show.

I can safely say that if there was a stand up comedian that played in southern California in the 1980’s, I saw them. I’d often make the drive to L.A. and hit some comedy clubs up there and also make sure to hit a live show or two whenever I would go to Las Vegas. While living in Vegas in the mid eighties, I’d see at least one show a week. Even when moving cross-country, which I did four different times, I would find comedy clubs along the way throughout the country. I really enjoyed it. I almost became a student of the art. I would literally study how each comic differed from the next. Like I said, I was a fanatic.

After I got married, Shelly and I would see live comedy when we could. When we’d go to Las Vegas we’d seek out comedy shows instead of the normal Vegas shows that were prominent along the strip. We once saw Drew Cary long before he was famous and, to this day, he’s probably the funniest stand-up comic I’ve ever seen. I never liked his television show and haven’t liked anything I’ve seen him in since but I had to leave the room at one point simply because I couldn’t breathe because I was laughing so hard.

Something in the last few years has changed for me. I can’t seem to enjoy myself at these comedy gigs anymore and I think I’ve figured out why. I think this might be a case where the Internet isn’t making things better. I look up comedians on the web all the time; I find stuff that brings tears to my eyes from laughing so hard. I’ve found all kinds of new comics over the last few years and really enjoyed some of them. Until recently, I had Satellite radio in my car. There are a few stations devoted to stand-up comedy and I’d listen to them quite regularly. Again, I found a lot of stuff to laugh at. But then, as with most things, it’s worn itself out for me.

I was talking to Shelly, my ex wife, about it yesterday and she kinda understood what I meant. She told me that I was probably just burned out on it, could be. I went and saw John Pinette the other night. He’s one of the top-touring comedians out there today. There was a nice size crowd and everyone seemed to really get into it, everyone but me. I just didn’t find much of it funny and the basic reason for it is because I’ve heard it all before. There was nothing new or cutting edge because it’s all over the web and radio. You can’t see the same envelope pushed over the same ground and expect to be entertained each time. It’s too bad, really. I love to laugh; I find most things funny in some way. I’m just having a hard time laughing at those who are paid to make me do so.

The Worlds Greatest Bar Band

Just got home from seeing The Beach Boys at a local outdoor venue. Well, calling them The Beach Boys is akin to calling Roger Daltry “The Who”. By that I mean there is only one original member of the band still around and even though he was an integral part, It still wasn’t like you were seeing the real thing. Don’t get me wrong, I had a real nice time, it’s just that it seemed almost like a cover band. These guys have a better excuse than most bands that go out with only one original member, of the three Wilson Brothers that helped start the band, two are dead and the third has little to do with the band anymore.

It struck me as odd that the concert started at 6 instead of the normal 7:30, all I could figure was that these guys are old and maybe they just couldn’t stay up too late. Either way, it was a good thing I saw the earlier time in the paper. So a friend and I went early enough to get a prime spot on the lawn and we were all set for a show of some of the most popular music in history.


They started just a couple minutes after six and started right up with a number of their early surf tunes. After running through a number of these tunes, lead singer Mike Love took a few minutes to talk to the crowd. He announced that they had just played eight songs and mentioned how large an amount of songs that was without a break. I looked at my watch and it still wasn’t 6:30, they hadn’t even played for 25 minutes. Of course they can play so many songs in such a short time, the average Beach Boy song, especially the early ones were barely over two minutes. I don’t know, it just seemed that Love wasn’t really comfortable talking to the audience. I don’t think he had anything preplanned to talk about and his adlib skills left a lot to be desired considering he’s been doing this for close to 50 years.

Don’t get me wrong; they played all the songs you expected them to play and then some. They hit my two faves, the ones that are on the playlist that is probably playing while you read this, God Only Knows and Don’t Worry Baby but I just didn’t feel any real connection with them. At the end of God Only Knows, Bruce Johnston dedicated the song to Carl Wilson. He being the original lead singer when the song came out a generation ago. That was the only mention of any of the Wilson Brothers and that left me cold. If you’ve read any of my previous posts you know what a fan I am of Brian Wilson and to not even get a mention just seemed wrong. He wrote and produced most every hit the band had and it was disappointing, to say the least.

The crowd didn’t seem to mind and I saw more beach balls in one place than I’d ever seen. It was like a beach party and I guess that’s what one expects at a Beach Boy concert. To me, I don’t know, they seemed almost like a cover band. A good cover band, but still, a cover band.

It Just Isn't Me

I got a phone call from a guy I’ve known since I was a kid. Never been good friends but in no way enemies. He called to talk to me about my relationship with his wife. Seems he had it in his head that she and I were seeing each other. I think I’ve seen his wife three times since I moved back here, she’s a friend but we’re not very close. I tried to explain this to this guy and I’m not real sure if he believed me or not. I gotta tell ya Kids, I’m not sure if I care anymore.

I find it absolutely amazing how many times this has come up in my life. Here’s the beauty of it all, not only has it never happened, it never will. There are a few reasons why this is the case. The first being what I think should be obvious, it’s just plain wrong. I’m not putting myself on some kind of pedestal here but c’mon, give me some kind of credit here. To me, there are certain things you just don’t do and this pretty much tops the list.

Another reason you can know a situation like this would never involve me is simply because of how emotionally crippled I am when it comes to the whole idea of relationships. Do those that know me think it’s by choice that I don’t date? I would love nothing more than to be the kind of guy who can just walk up to someone and ask her out on a date. Unfortunately I’ve never been able to do that. Remember when you were a kid and you wanted to ask someone out? Remember how hard it was to get the courage to make that first step? Well, I’ve never been able to garner said courage. It’s nothing I’m proud of but facts are facts.

Any relationship I’ve ever had has been the direct result of the woman being the aggressor. Each of those said relationships has ended because of my lack of same. Again, nothing I’m happy to admit but it’s simply the way it is. I’d like to think that I wasn’t this wimp when it comes to this and I’m always hoping I’ll get better at it and I’ll keep working on it. Rest assured though, even if I was this Lance Romance kind of guy I wish I were, I would never infringe on someone else’s life like that.

Those that read the blog know that I’m incredibly open when it comes to me and my “issues”. Why would I admit this kind of fault in my personality if it weren’t the case? Seriously?

A Friend Of The Highest Order

When I was in high school I became friends with a number of girls, one in particular became closer than most. Odds are it could have been much more if it weren’t for my shortcomings. We would have our good times and bad, by bad I mean times when I would simply stop talking to her for reasons that I’ve made a million different excuses for over the years, none that would really mean anything to anyone that had a brain in their head.

Every once in a while, after I moved away, we would connect and things would be good but, once again, my own insecurities would stop me from having any kind of relationship with her. I always wanted to be the great friend she wanted me to be but was always unable to be it. Again, nothing that she’d ever done, strictly my own issues.

What’s been really incredible is the fact that she’s never given up on me. When I moved to Florida and didn’t know a soul, I had some seriously down times. I called her one day and as soon as she picked up, she acted like we’d been talking for all the years I’d ignored this special friendship that I’d wanted yet denied for close to three decades. I’ve written before about looking for and finding a number of friends that I’d lost over the years. That wasn’t the case here. She never went anywhere, always right where I knew she’d be.

I’m sure there were times, over the years, that she could have used my friendship and I was nowhere to be found. Again, my own issues prevented me from being the friend I could have been and I will never be able to apologize enough for that. Here’s the cool thing: There has never been a time that she hasn’t answered the call when I’ve been on the other end of the line. Is there anyone out there that doesn’t need someone like that in his or her lives?

So, this is just a little tribute to someone who’s always understood the true meaning of friendship. I know my life is made a little bit easier every day just knowing she’s a phone call away for anything my skewed thought process desires. Thank you dear friend, you and your kindness have always meant more to me than you could ever imagine.

This Songs Got No Title

Once in a while I get this feeling that I should be writing. It’s odd because nothing has happened, I’m not upset or going through any emotional crisis and I haven’t done anything that would warrant my need of putting things down on paper as it were. Be that as it may, right now, I feel the need to write.

Now, what to write about? That’s usually the easiest part of it for me. There used to be a time, once I picked a subject, that I’d start the piece and also research the subject at the same time. I don’t do that anymore. I think my style of writing has changed over time. I used to write a great deal about items in the news or social issues. I don’t do that as much as I used to, I guess I write more out of feelings now. You can’t really research feelings, you just let them pour out, I think. Most everything I write is spur of the moment kind of stuff. By that, I mean it just comes to me. I’ll be sitting in my chair, television on or music playing from my itunes library and something hits me. Either something that’s said on the tube or a song plays that gets me thinking. If it’s something that really hits me I’ll have a completed post in 15 minutes.

Recently, I’ve started playing golf. I find it, for the most part, incredibly frustrating. There are, however, moments of pure bliss and it’s those moments of bliss that make it worthwhile. Writing, to me, is kinda like the same thing. I’ll write something, and most times, I can’t bear the thought of admitting that I’m responsible for what I’m reading. There are, however, times when the keyboard gods are kind. I’ll sometimes see something that actually makes me proud. Once in a while I’ll find a sentence that gets to me. I’ll read it over and over again and just marvel at how well it works right where I put it. It’s like hitting a great tee shot on the golf course. I’ll just marvel at the beauty of it. it doesn’t happen very often but when it does, well, I get this feeling like I just may be on to something here. Let’s see if I can do the same thing on the next hole or the next paragraph. It sometimes happens and it’s a great feeling. It’s why I play the game, if you know what I mean.

Another Step Backwards

Took a huge step backwards last night. I was out with a number of old friends, chatting, laughing and seemingly having a very nice time. I felt good and was enjoying myself when, all of a sudden, I was hit with a wave of panic or fear that just floored me. It’s been such a long time since I’ve dealt with this issue that, while the waves were rushing over me, I felt like I was going to cry from the disappointment. I mean it, it was so upsetting to see something I haven’t had to deal with in such a long time. I really thought I had conquered this ridiculous fear I’ve dealt with so many times.

As quickly as I could, I said my goodbyes and got out of the restaurant and into my car. Sitting there for a short time, I thought I had better get going before anyone from my group saw me. Sitting here right now, I’m certain that even if I were to be seen, nobody would have known anything was wrong. At that moment though, well, I thought I was the focal point of every person in the whole world.

It’s so strange the way my mind works in situations like this. I mean, here I was, having some sort of nervous attack, yet all the while knowing what I was going through and that there really was nothing to be afraid of. It’s like I’m fighting myself over whatever it is that has me in this state. It really is feeling like I’m going mad. It’s a pretty heavy argument going on inside while stuff like this happens. Logic yelling at, what seems to me at the time, insanity. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s also embarrassing. What in the world could possibly make me so full of anxiety at a time when everything was fine? I was drinking Iced Tea, others were getting their dinner and we were all having good conversation and a fine time. It’s all very, I don’t know, sad to me.

So, I came home, watched the end of the Tiger game and went for a drive. I didn’t go anywhere in particular, just listened to N.P.R. for a while. When I got home it started all over again. I was playing golf in the morning and all I could think of were ways to get out of playing. Why? No real reason. It’s just what I do to myself to make sure I can’t just relax. I didn’t sleep, as my head was a bastion of nonsensical thought fighting against logic. The argument ensued throughout the evening until morning. Of course I played and had a great time. Getting there however was horrible.

I don’t know what I can do to stop this. The idea of doing this kind of stuff to myself on a regular basis again is something I’m not real sure I can deal with in an adult like manner. I don’t want to deal with the pressure and the only real alternative is to just stay inside. I can’t do that to myself. It’s been a long hard fight to get out of that routine and I just can’t afford the energy needed to start all over again.

A Little Summertime Music

Went to another concert last night. Chicago and The Doobie Brothers. I went not expecting too much, never having been a big fan of the “Doobies”, and having seen Chicago a number of times over the years. I expected a nice show, nothing more, nothing less.

The Doobies opened and, while knowing most of the songs, I don’t think I’d know the names of too many of them. It was the first time I’d ever seen them and it was just ok for me. I didn’t dislike them, just nothing that grabbed me emotionally. That’s what I like in music, what grabs me and makes me feel, the emotional connection I get when hearing a certain song. I’ve never felt that way with these guys and got pretty much what I expected out of the gig.

I didn’t really know what to expect out of Chicago either. I hadn’t seen them in years and really didn’t think they’d do much more than play a number of their biggest hits in a radio like format and I’d go home feeling as if I’d got my moneys worth. I haven’t listened to a complete Chicago album since they released their seventh album around 35 years ago. Being the musical stuff shirt I am, I found nothing of any relevance in any of their stuff since. Obviously, the best-case scenario for me would be if they played a bunch of their old songs. They didn’t let me down.

Opening with “Make Me Smile” from their second album, they played the entire “suite” of songs including the hit, “Colour My World” while closing the song with the final chorus of “Make Me Smile” just as it is on the album. It was really well done and totally unexpected. I was happy to hear it and was even more pleased when their second song was “Dialogue” from their fifth album. another of my favorite songs of theirs. I don’t remember the order of songs for the rest of the show but they played a number of tunes from their first album: “Beginnings”, “25 or 6 to 4”, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is” and a smoking version of “I’m A Man” all, from their first release, and a number of others from their early days.

They did play a number of the obligatory easy listening hits they had in the 80’s and 90’s and I could have done without them but painless enough I guess. All in all it was a pretty good show, much more than I expected. Back in the day, these guys were quite the groundbreaking act. The mixing of brass and rock could be heard by “Blood Sweat and Tears” but these guys were a real rock band/ Just as interested in the music as with the lyrics. Listen to their first couple albums, there’s some really nice instrumentals along with their hits. It was nice to see they hadn’t forgotten that, it seemed the crowd remembered too.

The Next Best Thing

I think Pete Townshend is one of the great songwriters of this, or any, generation. A couple years ago I wrote a piece that went through a short history of his career and pretty much let my feelings on his abilities be known. I’ve never seen either Townshend, nor his band, “The Who” live before and it’s something I regret. I did, however, have the chance to see Roger Daltry, the lead singer of The Who, in concert last week and was really impressed.

He was at a local outdoor venue and was the opening act for Eric Clapton. Let me say this before I get beat up by all my friends who already think I’m crazy. Eric Clapton is a great guitar player. One of the best ever to pick up the instrument. He’s just not my cup of tea. Just as Mozart was an amazing composer yet I don’t see myself going to see a concert of his music. I’m just not into it. I was there to see Daltry and I was far from disappointed.

Opening with “I Can See For Miles” followed by “Can You See The Real Me”, I started to get a real feeling of what I was in for. Both songs, classics by any rock standard, sung by the very voice that gave them life, so many years ago. He followed these up with two songs, one by “Taj Mahal” and the other, a song written by him that sounded familiar. I’m not sure if I’d heard it before but it had that “Who” sound we’re all accustomed too. The crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves but appeared to be waiting to see what was next. Daltry has released eight albums outside of his work with The Who and he could have gone either way at this point. I think he chose the right path.

The rest of the show was, save for one song, a tribute to Pete Townshend’s songwriting. Though there were only six more songs, all were well known and highly appreciated by the crowd. To hear the song, “Behind Blue Eyes” almost had me in a trance. A song with such a beautiful melody, with lyrics of such pain and angst, written when Townshend was only 26, reminded me, once again, why I’m in such awe of his abilities to lay it all out there for all to appreciate.

“When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool.”

Gets me every time.

You know, it would have been wonderful to see Townshend there too but this was surely the next best thing. Roger Daltry knows where the butter comes from for his bread and he’s not ashamed to admit it. I like that.

There But For The Grace...

I’ve written a few times about my Father and how, well, let’s just say different, he is. Now he’s facing a reality he is totally unprepared for and, his chosen way of dealing with things can be described by many words. Sad, embarrassing and frightening are just a few that come to mind.

Dad retired form the work force around five years ago. When he retired, according to him, he had what he, along with most others, considered enough money to live in the style he was accustomed. Well to say things have changed would be an understatement. According to him, everything was lost in the financial markets but those that know his situation think quite differently. Dad’s been supporting a family of four, along with himself for a number of years. Knowing him and the way he “needs” to put on the show, it’s quite apparent that they simply spent whenever any whim hit them. She hasn’t worked in ages and his was the only money available to them. Well, the money ran out and decisions had to be made. Decisions that have caused pain to a number of folks but none more so than Dad.

Dad recently moved into an assisted living facility. According to anyone that knows the place, it’s quite nice and has anything he could possibly need. According to him, it’s a place where people go to die. He told me the other day that the closest person in age to him is at least 10 to 15 years older than him. As I write this it strikes me that that may be one of his biggest problems. I don’t think Dad realizes that he really is 78 years old. David, my brother, helped find the place and he said the woman that runs the facility said the average age is actually younger than Dad. I think this is a classic case of not seeing ones self as others see you. You know, your own eyes always see things differently than the reality of the situation.

Dad turned 78 the other day. I called to wish him a Happy Birthday and he responded with a kinda grunt. He then told me “thank you. I just want to die.” How does one respond to that? I mumbled something and we continued the conversation and he would say something and follow it up with the wanting to die statement. He would follow that by telling me he wasn’t joking and we’d go on to something else. I asked him a number of times what about the place was so bad and the worst thing he could come up with was that he took some Iced Tea up to his room and there wasn’t any sweet n low in the tea when he drank it.

I think what has really happened here can only be blamed on one person, him. Everything Dad has ever done in his life has led to this very moment. It was him that decided he really wanted to avoid any relationship with anyone in his family, not us. It was he who decided that knowing his sons wives names wasn’t important, not us. It was he that decided that knowing his Grandchildren, in even the smallest sense, wasn’t something that might be worthwhile, not us. He was the one that thought it important to move in with a woman, younger than his own youngest child, and give her free reign over all his finances to support her children, send them on vacations in the Caribbean and, in the end, the ability to spend every penny he had in five or six short years. Now, it is him that still believes he’s gotten the short stick in life and has found himself in a situation that could have been avoided so easily it really is embarrassing.

Sounds like I’m really mad at him at a time that he could use support from all of us. Maybe I am. I do feel sorry for him and I do understand how he feels right now. I also see that this is exactly the life he laid out for himself from the moment he became cognoscente of living an adult life. There’s a life lesson here that I could use in my own life and I guess I should thank him for that but I’m a long way from taking the whole lesson to heart. I will say this: it may take a while but I will learn from this. Those that I’ve neglected, don’t give up on me yet. I’m coming back and one day, when I get there, I hope you’re open to me again. If not, I’ll understand, won’t be happy, but I’ll understand.

This Isn't An Option

Funny, sometimes, how things turn out. 49 years old and my buckets' empty. I just feel like I want to be done. I know, I know, I’m just having a hard time and things will most certainly get better. Still doesn’t make things easy. Seriously, is there anything that makes things easy? I want to go away so bad it hurts. I don’t mean on a vacation either. I want a one-way ticket to anywhere and get completely lost in a crowd. My last post ended with me talking about how important it is sometimes to have someone hold ones hand to help him or her get through life. Something’s going on now that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get my hand held tight enough and I truly don’t know what to do.

I’ve got a friend that’s sick. She’s got a few different problems, none of which are easily dealt with, and she’s hurting. She’s got more friends than you could possibly imagine and each and every one of them is giving her any and all support they can. Me, I just sit in my chair and weep. I drive in my car and lose the ability to breathe. I’m at the gym and have to hop off the treadmill and run to the locker room to make sure nobody sees me trembling and wiping my eyes. Once again, as I did when Steve was sick, I seem to be feeling my pain over this rather than understanding hers. I’ll never understand how some deal with this kind of stuff.
I’m feeling the highs when there’s good news but I’m just crushed when it’s not so good. I’m on this roller coaster of emotions and along with it comes the guilt. I’m almost ashamed to constantly look at this from my perspective. I wish with all my heart that I could see things any other way but this. I just don’t know how that works. If someone knows how that works, feel free to drop me a line.

I don’t know if she’ll be reading this but if she does I do want to say a few things to her:

I told you a while ago how and why you mean so much to me and the gratitude I feel just for having you be a part of my life can never be fully explained so anyone outside of my head would understand. You just need to know it’s true. Yes, this is going to sound selfish but your not getting better simply isn’t an option. I can’t have it and because of that, as far as I’m concerned, neither can you. I, along with so many others, need you well. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat but we both know it’s not possible. Therefore, you just have to get better. You just have to.

Look Kid, it’s like this: well, you know…

It's Just A Mess Up Here

There’s a few things that have happened lately that have really been eye openers to me, and great fodder for friends. Nothing ground breaking and I sort of lead the way when it comes to self-depreciation. I have, however, learned a thing or two about myself. I saw, first hand, my brain working and failing miserably at some things that would seem quite elementary to someone like me, hell, to anyone.

A couple weeks before I went to California I bought myself a new electric razor. I packed it in my suitcase and when I got to Los Angeles, after opening my bag, I found that the blades had all fallen off the razor. We’re talking about the round heads that go against your face when you shave. I found all the pieces and laid them out in front of me. What happened next can only be described as sensory overload. There were six pieces that needed to be put together to make three pieces. Then they needed to be put onto the shaver and all would supposedly be well. Seeing the pieces on the bed as I unpacked the suitcase, I became almost afraid. I’m not sure if that’s the right word. I somehow couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept of what had to be done.

It seemed like there had to be at least 10,000 things to do in order to make things the way they should be. I’m staring at these six pieces and I was overcome with this sense of both worry and disappointment. The worry, simply of what I was going to do. The disappointment? Well, from the realization of what was happening in my head. I made a few feeble attempts at putting it together and, of course, I just couldn’t seem to put the process needed into any kind of action that made sense. I felt like such an idiot. Fortunately, my ex wife came home and sat at the dining room table and put the shaver back together in a matter of minutes.


Of course I spoke to Shrink about it and she, once again, brought up how this was yet another instance of me displaying the classic symptoms of A.D.D. I just like to think of it as me being an idiot.

The razor is just one of many instances of things like this throughout my life. It’s more noticeable as a problem now because I’m by myself. I’ve always had others help me take care of things. As a child, my Mother or my Brothers and Sister would always be the leaders in putting bikes, toys and other things together that would have more than two or three pieces. After I got married, Shelly was always taking care of stuff like that. Even now, after my divorce, friends are usually around enabling me to hide this rather embarrassing problem. It’s even more embarrassing now because I’ve brought it into the forefront. I use it as a joke when I’m with friends because, let’s face it, it’s funny to think that I’ve still got pieces of a fan that’s been on my couch for over three weeks because it confuses me when I look at it.

The whole concept has always bothered me. I could never figure out why I could never put a jigsaw puzzle together for instance. I’d look at the pieces and no matter what color or shape the pieces were; they’d always look the same to me and literally blend into one another. No matter how hard I’d try, I just couldn’t, and still can’t, get it to make sense in my head. It was always so hard to explain to not only others, but myself as well. How could this guy, who everyone believes is a rather bright guy, be such an idiot when it comes to these simple things that shouldn’t be an issue for the simplest of people?

It’s really something to think I’ve gotten this far in life being so dependent on others to help me with literally anything I’ve needed to do. I’ve always had either family or friends help me through every step of doing anything I’ve ever had to do. It’s like having someone hold your hand when crossing the street. There’s something to be said for holding someone’s hand, don’t you think?

Simply The Best

Went to a concert last night that I think may be one of the most important concerts I’ve ever seen. That sounds strange, I know, but the more I think about it the more the statement seems to describe what I’m trying to say. I went to see Carole King and James Taylor and it was truly one of those “magical” evenings I spend so much of my time searching for.

Let me start by saying, I like James Taylor. I wouldn’t call myself a huge fan but I like him. I’ve never had an album but I don’t change the station if one if his songs comes on the radio. I, however, was there to see someone who could arguably be called the greatest female songwriter in history. I only say female because I believe there can be no argument against it. If I hadn’t qualified gender, well, some may have come up with names like Lennon, McCartney and possibly one or two others.

I don’t believe there is anyone, over the age of 18, that doesn’t know a Carole King song. Even if one has never heard the album “Tapestry”, she’s written so many others that it would really be hard to believe that someone doesn’t know at least one of them. “One Fine Day”, “The Loco-Motion” and “Go Away Little Girl” are but a few of the songs written by her and recorded by others. There are so many more that to list them would take up more space than I’ve got time to deal with right now.

Watching Carole King sing live last night was, to say the least, a very emotional experience. I put seeing her right up there with seeing McCartney back in 1990. I was seeing one of the giants of pop music and about that, there can be no question. Go to the Internet and punch up her catalogue. It’s ridiculous how much music she’s put into our heads over the years.
The show was very well put together as both artists played the entire evening with each other. They’d go back and forth singing their songs, each one a hit, and would compliment each other very well throughout. The highlight of the evening, for me, was when the two combined their contrasting versions of “Up On A Roof”. King’s being a much slower, emotional song to Taylor’s more pop, upbeat tune. It was truly magical and I could have just stayed in that moment for the rest of my life. They also did most of the Tapestry album and hearing “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” last night is also a memory I’ll hold in a special place, for a very long time.

I could say that for most of the evening too, I mean it. I don’t think I could name one song, sung by either of the two, that didn’t take me to a place in my mind that I visit far to infrequently. I can’t tell you how many times, throughout the evening, that I had to wipe a tear or two away at the sheer genius of this amazing American treasure. I still can’t believe what I did last night. I saw an amazing songwriter, sing some amazing songs that she created for each and every one of us. For this, I am unbelievably grateful. I will never forget what I saw and heard last night, not one single moment.

Simply In Awe

Not sure what’s made me feel the way I do today but I seem to be tearing up rather consistently. I’ve been thinking of some folks I know and the unbelievable strength they seem to show so effortlessly in the face of things I can’t even imagine. Today I sit in wonder at the incredible courage these people have shown.

A little over a year ago my oldest brother Steve was diagnosed with Liver cancer. I’ve never been so close to something like this happening to someone related to me and, obviously, it sent my world into quite the tizzy. I wrote a number of things about everything Steve went through and have noted the amazing strength and attitude he shared with the world during the entire ordeal. I sit in awe of what I saw in him throughout it all and am very thankful that he’s cancer free and he and his new Liver are doing wonderfully. I can’t help it; I get choked up every time I think about it.

Recently, while I was out in California, I wrote a story about my friend Mac who lost his wife in a terrible auto accident that he witnessed. I spent a few hours with him while there and, once again, stood in wonder at the strength he exhibited while talking to me. It’s truly a wonder to see and hear him have the ability to talk and kid around about anything and everything and not just fall apart. I sit in awe of him.

Even more recently than that is what my friend Ellen and her family are going through. I don’t know all the details but suffice it to say that after major invasive surgery, Ellen is now a two-time cancer survivor. This one is probably closer to me than either of the other two even though Steve is my Brother. I live near Ellen and see her on a regular basis. We have a semi regular dinner date with another friend on Thursday nights when we can get the time to get together.

When Steve got sick, Ellen, who I was just starting to know at the time, sent me a note that literally told me every emotion I would feel and in what order. She also let me know that those feelings I had were totally expected and to not be ashamed of them. I got a lot of strength from that note and a really great friendship has developed over the little more than a year that has passed since that time. Ellen is also partly responsible for getting me out of my house on a regular basis. I couldn’t count the number of notes passed or online chats we had while I was doing my little freak out at the thought of going out and socializing.

I’ve always had a hard time understanding how others could feel about me in ways that I can’t even feel about myself. I’ve written on numerous occasions about my lack of understanding how and why people seem to like me. Issues I’ve always had and am constantly working on. Ellen “got” that. She didn’t just laugh it off and tell me I was crazy to think that way. Ellen always let me know the how’s and the why’s of the things that people liked about me and never made me feel as if I was just along for the ride. I became an integral part of whatever group I was in and that never would have happened without my knowing this woman I’m in such awe of today.

So, today I sit in my chair thinking of these three people that have each had a major influence on my life and I somehow find a little lesson in it all. I’m not real sure how to articulate the lesson but it’s got something to do with the idea of seeing the strength in others and relating it to how they’ve affected your life. Three people that have, at one time or another, had an impact on me, mentors, if you will. It makes me proud to know that I’ve noticed something in these folks that made me want to be around them and then it’s almost like a payoff when I see how incredible they really are. Almost like I was right in wanting to be around them. Granted, Steve is my brother but we’re also friends and that’s not always the case with siblings.

So this feeling I’ve got today is not one of sadness. It’s more of a pride in knowing some people that I feel honored to have in my life. I just happen to cry a little when I’m really proud.

The Chai's Have It

Back in the mid eighties I was working at a store in Rancho Bernardo, just north of San Diego. There was a jewelry store in the plaza and I liked to go in and look around. I’ve never been one to wear rings or necklaces and I wanted to see if there was anything that caught my eye. I was looking at things like Star Of David’s or Chai’s as, being Jewish, a cross wouldn’t be so nice. Besides, my Hebrew name is Chaim.

There were a number of items that were very nice but the prices were much more than I could afford. I found one that was a little over $100.00 and, though it was not as nice as most, I decided it was the best I could do and bought it. I wore it under my shirt every day. At first it was really uncomfortable, I’d never worn a necklace before, but I got used to it. I actually started noticing when I didn’t have it on. It made me feel something, I don’t know, connected I guess. I’m not religious in any sense of the word, never have been, but I felt that sense of belonging that we all seem to crave at most points in our lives.

It’s a rather small, skinny, well, scrawny one. Kind of like the Jew I am, not too much, if you know what I mean. When folks would see it they would invariably think it was some kind of animal. Most thought it was a cow and I would have to explain to them what it was and it’s significance to me. I got real comfortable with it. I would take it off at night and put it on right out of the shower. It became almost something I depended on.

I got married and Shelly and I, along with the two kids we had at the time lived in an apartment. The kids were fascinated with the Chai and I would constantly have to tell them not to play with it when they would see it on the dresser at night. Well, one day I woke up and it was gone. Obviously one of the kids had been messing around with it and it was lost. There wasn’t a lot to say to the kids, they were very small at the time and after Shelly and I searched the apartment over and over again we just gave it up for lost. I was bummed but I figured life goes on. When we moved out of the apartment I thought that we might find it. Needless to say, we didn’t. I would think about the Chai once in a blue moon but it really didn’t bother me.

I came out here to California last Friday and am staying at Shelly’s house. Friday night she got up off the couch, went into her room and when she came out, she handed me the Chai. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I put it on and have worn it since I got here. I kept telling Shelly how I couldn’t believe she found it. She couldn’t remember where she found it but said she found it while unpacking here at her house that she bought when we split. This is the fourth place we had packed and unpacked since we left the apartment so the odds of her finding it were amazing. The more I think about it all the more grateful I am.

Anytime anyone has seen it, they still comment on how much it looks like a cow. I tell them the story of it and they understand how I feel about it but still laugh about it. Well, laugh all you want kids but this cows staying around my neck, right where it belongs.

We Move On

I was in a Management program with the grocery company I used to work for out here in California about 10 years ago. When the program started I was matched up with a guy I had never met. Once I found out his name I checked around to see if anyone I knew also knew him. The response was unanimous; “you guys are a perfect match,” I was told. “You two will really hit it off” was another common response. Unreal how right everyone was.

Mac is a little more than nine years younger than I and is a much bigger guy. He could easily squash me with his index finger. The thing that made people think we’d get along was the way we talked and joked. Within a few hours of meeting him, we were literally crying from laughing so hard at the things we both found funny within the program we had just started. We would make fun of anything; ourselves included and just plain have a great time. It was always a chore going out to lunch with him because it would take so long for us to eat, as we would be laughing throughout. There was a time we were at lunch, spending an inordinate amount of time eating a simple meal, that as we got up to leave we were asked if we were professional comedians. This wasn’t uncommon. We had a lot of fun. There was a time when Mac had to send an email to Shelly, my ex, about some question we had. He simply signed it Kevin’s other life partner”. Like I said, we had a lot of fun.

Well, life went on, I left California, and Mac was managing whatever store the company would place him in while raising his three kids along with his wife.

Shelly called me a few days before I came out here and told me a story that none of us could possibly imagine. Mac was following his wife home last August 30’Th. Corinna had his daughter in her car and Mac had his son. As Mac was driving, he stood witness to his wife’s car being hit and pushed down into a ditch. Mac’s daughter ended up with a broken arm but Corinna was crushed and didn’t survive. Mac and Corinna have literally been together since they were in sixth grade and here he was, on the side of the road watching his wife die.

My original intent, while out here, was to see family and some Facebook friends that live out here. Once I was told about Mac, that went out the window. I found what store he worked at and went and visited him this morning. He didn’t look much different, a little worn, but what do you expect. We shook hands when I saw him in the store and it was a good shake. He held on, while repeating my name over and over. “Kevin Mittleman” he said a number of times before letting go. We went up to his office and sat and talked for a couple hours and it was good. We laughed about a lot of things, we laughed hard about a lot more and we only talked a little about Corinna. He simply asked me if I had heard what was going on in his life and I said yes. He spoke about how much life had been turned upside down on that day in August. He also said that life continues and he had been back to work for two months now. We got off the subject and we started laughing again. I don’t have access to a car tomorrow or we were going to go out to lunch but we exchanged numbers and I got his email address. Mac told me how wonderful it was seeing me today and as I left, I was comforted by that. I know he needed the laughs and I’m confident that there are few around that could have given him the type he got with me.

I’d like to apologize to the folks I was going to try to catch up with today but I think this took precedence. I’ve made a ton of lousy decisions in my life. I’ve let people down and haven’t been all I could be for a number of folks who’ve depended on me. Today, however, I did something good and as I sit here in a Starbucks writing this as tears slide down my face, I’ll take that feeling of doing something good and hold onto it for as long as I can.