It's hard to believe, but in 18 days for the first time in decades, Indiana is going to start observing Daylight Savings Time. It's a touchy subject for a lot of people, but I, for one, am glad to see it coming, because frankly, it finally puts Indiana in touch with the rest of the country, save for the last two holdout states.
Yes, it's going to be a hassle changing all the clocks, and it's going to be a real trip trying to figure out this beautiful watch my wife gave me for our 25th anniversary a few years back and how to change the time on it....don't laugh, this sucker came with a manual the size of metropolitan city telephone directory and I don't have a clue how to change time on it. Thank God it's solar powered, otherwise I would have already been in deep doo-doo trying to adjust it. But I'll figure it out, and if not, I guess I'll just have to wear a cheaper watch during the DST months.
I'm happy that we'll no longer have to try and figure out what time it is east of here, south of here and west of here. If we plan a trip to King's Island amusement park in Ohio, we won't have to get up an extra hour early and try and get there on time, because finally, we'll be on the same time as Ohio.
I'll be blessed with an extra hour of daylight so I can do my lawn work after work and not have to tie up my weekends mowing and weeding. That hour may not seem like much to a lot of folks, but it's going to be a true blessing to me when it comes to yardwork.
My wife and I love to sit outside in the evenings and read, and now we'll have an extra hour of daylight to do that as well.
When I'm watching "live" tv shows, I'll actually be watching them live and not on a one hour tape delayed basis as I have for so many years. When the next American Idol is crowned, I'll know it when everyone else does and not an hour later than they do.
But the best part of this change is the fact that most of Indiana will remain in the Eastern time zone, so there really will be an extra hour of daylight gained from the change. When this was first discussed, it was also talked that Indiana would all move into the Central Time Zone, which meant we would have gained nothing from the change to DST. Now, thankfully, we really will be gaining an hour of daylight during the summer months.
Now, if someone can just explain to me the benefit Indiana will receive by leasing the Indiana toll road in northern Indiana to foreigners for the next 75 years, I'll be one happy camper. But let's not go there today, because frankly, I think the entire idea and the way it was handled was foolish and underhanded and not in the interest of the residents of this state. It was solely for the benefit of Indiana's governor, certainly not my man Mitch Daniels, who I just happen to think is one of the biggest cry babies and sore losers I have ever seen in politics.
Let's see, he places our toll road in the hands of foreigners, our president attempts to put our foreign ports in the hands of an Arab nation...hmmmm, that might be why Mitch was given the nickname by George W as "My Man Mitch."
He sure as hell isn't my man, and neither is the jerk that sits in control of our nation, either...
'nuf said!
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
A Windy March Evening In 2006
Glen, Glen, Superman!
So many years have gone by.
But it's great to be back in touch my friend
And I hope it's for a very long time.
The old friends are the ones we miss the most
And the ones we never forget
And I hope that by talking we soon can begin
A new chapter in our lives not yet met.
Our lives have changed throughout all these years
But our friendship has remained in our souls
We just need to remember to never utter those words
That simply went, "Pray for me, Lowell!"
You got shot, I got scared
And sis and the guys got missed.
And that town drunk of ours got off scott free
And left everyone of us pissed.
So here's to you, my dear friend Glen,
Let not our friendship end
I hope that this is just the beginning
Of two old friends becoming the same again.
Peace, Bro!
So many years have gone by.
But it's great to be back in touch my friend
And I hope it's for a very long time.
The old friends are the ones we miss the most
And the ones we never forget
And I hope that by talking we soon can begin
A new chapter in our lives not yet met.
Our lives have changed throughout all these years
But our friendship has remained in our souls
We just need to remember to never utter those words
That simply went, "Pray for me, Lowell!"
You got shot, I got scared
And sis and the guys got missed.
And that town drunk of ours got off scott free
And left everyone of us pissed.
So here's to you, my dear friend Glen,
Let not our friendship end
I hope that this is just the beginning
Of two old friends becoming the same again.
Peace, Bro!
Sunday, March 12, 2006
A Legend
What gives you the power to judge me
To decide when I'm right and when I'm wrong?
What gives you the ability to decide
Just exactly on which side I belong?
What gives you the power to judge me
And to delegate the path my life shall take?
And who do you think you are that I should have to obey you
Over all the decisions in my life I'll make?
I've tried to be a friend to you, I've tried to make you happy
And I know that isn't possible all the time.
But where do you get the nerve from, to try and live my life for me
And to treat me like some useless form of slime?
We used to call ourselves close friends and I really thought we were
But I didn't see the error of my ways.
It was until much later on and many years had passed
That I discovered you were simply playing games.
The human heart is a fragile thing and needs
To be handled much but with care,
You stomped on mine with both your feet
And left me in despair.
As time moved on and years went by
I learned the truth that lies within your heart.
You manipulated me and pulled my life into yours
And did your best to break this soul apart.
I've wisened up, I've learned your tricks and have seen
The hell you cause those around you.
I now refuse to be a prisoner of yours
And be one of those "friends" you try and screw.
And although I'm told that I am a tender
And loving soul
I now refuse to let you put me
In your preconceived human mold.
Do me a favor and move along you ass
And get the fuck out of my life
I don't need your controlling ways
To add misery and pain and heavy strife.
Move on, depart, and set me free and let
Me be on my own.
Stay out of my life, stay away from my dreams
And leave me the fuck alone.
I pity you, you shameless fool and am sick to death
Of your kind.
Because all you are, quite simply old friend,
Is a legend in your own mind.
To decide when I'm right and when I'm wrong?
What gives you the ability to decide
Just exactly on which side I belong?
What gives you the power to judge me
And to delegate the path my life shall take?
And who do you think you are that I should have to obey you
Over all the decisions in my life I'll make?
I've tried to be a friend to you, I've tried to make you happy
And I know that isn't possible all the time.
But where do you get the nerve from, to try and live my life for me
And to treat me like some useless form of slime?
We used to call ourselves close friends and I really thought we were
But I didn't see the error of my ways.
It was until much later on and many years had passed
That I discovered you were simply playing games.
The human heart is a fragile thing and needs
To be handled much but with care,
You stomped on mine with both your feet
And left me in despair.
As time moved on and years went by
I learned the truth that lies within your heart.
You manipulated me and pulled my life into yours
And did your best to break this soul apart.
I've wisened up, I've learned your tricks and have seen
The hell you cause those around you.
I now refuse to be a prisoner of yours
And be one of those "friends" you try and screw.
And although I'm told that I am a tender
And loving soul
I now refuse to let you put me
In your preconceived human mold.
Do me a favor and move along you ass
And get the fuck out of my life
I don't need your controlling ways
To add misery and pain and heavy strife.
Move on, depart, and set me free and let
Me be on my own.
Stay out of my life, stay away from my dreams
And leave me the fuck alone.
I pity you, you shameless fool and am sick to death
Of your kind.
Because all you are, quite simply old friend,
Is a legend in your own mind.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Purse Before Slime and Other Obtuse Observations
Holy cow!
It's been nearly a year now since I started this little venture of mine, and I look at where I started and where I've arrived at this moment.
Actually, at this very moment, I'm enjoying a glass of the first homebrew I've made in close to 14 years...and I have to admit, it's pretty darned good. My wonderful wife Peggy bought me a beer machine for my birthday last month, and today, my first batch finished up and I'm sampling the contents of said batch. Now, while it's a bit on the cloudy side, it doesn't lack in the taste category at all. Matter of fact, it's damned good tasting, to say the very least. And I figure as I start homebrewing again, I'll learn as I go along and things will improve with age.
In March of last year, my friend of 30 years, Kingfish, aka ems, aka Jeff, and aka Benji sent me the url to a site by a friend of his, Space Ace. It thru SA's site that I discovered blogspot. I fought off the urge to start my own site for close to a month, and then finally, in April of last year, I decided, what the heck, let's see if I can do this. For every reason I could think of not to, I thought of five or six reasons why I should. The shoulds won out, obviously.
So, what have I accomplished so far?
Let's ponder this for a moment....
Okay, enough pondering!
I've awakened in me the desire to write again, whether it be just to give my views on a certain issue, write a poem, or just blow off, I have found the entire experience a revelation to the stirring that still exists in this 54 year old soul of mine that needs to be released. See, I always wanted to be a writer, and for reasons we won't get into now, that didn't happen. BUT, when Kingfish and all his various aka's sent me SA's blogsite, I found something that intrigued the writer in me that still wanted to get his feet wet, and I started this thing we now call blogging.
So, what have I gained from it?
First, I have found out that I still have the yearning to write. That makes me happy, so therefore, that is a good thing, as far as I can tell at this point. Thanks to ems, and his various aka's, he sent my url for my site to others for them to check out. They, for the most part, have remained silent, so I don't know if any of them are reading or not, but I have had a couple of people I didn't know send me e-mails and tell me that they had liked what I had written up to that point, which I have to admit, has been many months ago.
I also shared my site with friends and associates of mine, some who have told me they liked, some who have told me they didn't, and still others who tell me I need to be locked up in a state hospital somewhere and eating pureed food and pablum. And that's okay, too, because I enjoy making people wonder just what it is I'm getting at when I write.
Last April I went off on this entire big speel about Daylight Savings Time in Indiana and the possiblity of Indiana finally getting with the 21st century but taking a step backward and moving back into the Central Time Zone, which thankfully, we didn't. And, on April 2nd of this year, for the first time in literally decades, because I was a teenager the last time we observed DST, Indiana is finally going to go back on DST, and I for one am thrilled to death about it.
Will I write another blog about it once we start doing again? I have no idea. I usually don't know what these fingers are going to start typing until I sit down in front of the keyboard and they begin moving with a mind of their own. I did, however, realize not long after I started writing, that I didn't want my blogsite to become nothing more than an editorial page. I decided to just do what came to mind, type whatever came up in my mind and take it from there.
Since then I've just "blogged." And to be honest, I hate that term. Blog to me sounds like a serious medical condition. I prefer to call it more simply, just "writing." I remember the first time I threw in a poem, it felt good, so I decided I could do that on a more regular basis.
I flashbacked to my years in high school and when I was a part of "Summer Heat" and I decided to make "Remembering Summer Heat" a serial, with installments to cover a vast amount of time in between episodes, and trust me, the next installment is coming soon.
I took an evening and wrote a piece of total nonsense, which I used to love to do, and I threw that in, just to see if anyone responded. And indeed they did, I believe it was two spam responses, but what the hell! My piece was total nonsense and so was their response, so it served a purpose as well.
I've had customers come up to me where I work and tell me they read my site regularly, and that thrills me to no end. I had a couple of people tell me in person that they thought I had actual talent! That touched my heart.
And then the truly amazing thing I hadn't expected to happen, HAPPENED! I started reading other peoples' sites, and as I read them, I gained a broader spectrum of what blogging was about and believe me, I've seen and read some really interesting, uninteresting, and some totally worthless sites.
I discovered blogporn, and thanks, but I can certainly do without that. I found out that a lot of businesses use blogging to gain attention, and while I think that's cool, I have a problem with people gaining free advertising from their blogs. For instance, I have a sideline business that I go thru proper channels to advertise, and have yet to use my site to advertise it. I don't find it ethical, in the first place, and am actually quite surprised that people do this, but what the hell? This is basically free speech, so more power to you. You use your blogsite and advertise, I'll spend my hard earned money and advertise my alpaca farm thru other channels, ok? And no, that wasn't a plug for my farm. If it had been, I would have named the farm for you, etc...
Then one day while going thru random blogs I happened upon a young woman's site that caught my eye. I read the entry in front of me that appeared, and was so impressed, that I continued to read further back at other entries she had written. I was so impressed with what I had read, I went back to the very beginning of her site and read every single entry she had written. To say I was thrilled to have discovered her site would be an injustice, because, quite honestly, her writings blew me away! She wrote in a poetic style that captured my attention, my heart and my love of the written word. When I read in her intro that she had only been writing for a few months, I was amazed, because truly, she writes some of the best poetry I have read in years. She possesses a style that is so unique, so her own and so uncanny.
I was an instant fan and left a brief comment to let her know how much I enjoyed what I had read. I had no idea that this young single mother of two would capture my attention to the extent that she has. I so admire her writing style and I so admire her ability to write about almost anything she's given the challenge to write about. I daily check her site and am disappointed if she hasn't added any new entries, but hey, after all, this young woman is not only a single mother of two, she's a full time student as well. Trust me, folks, this girl is on it and I have an admiration for her she wouldn't believe!
I shared her site with others, with my friends and associates, my wife, hell, anyone I could think of that I thought would appreciate her unique style of poetry. People came to me, called me, and e-mailed me and told me what a great author I had discovered. And as much as I would love to say that I "discovered" her, that would be a lie, because truly, she is an author in a class by herself and I had nothing to do with discovering her, but I've done my dead level best to encourage her to continue to write and to pursue a career beyond "blogging." And yes, faithful readers, she's honestly that damned good.
I don't really know her, but I feel she's a close friend. I don't where she's from, what she does other than being a full time mommy and student, and I don't know anything other than what I've read that she's written and the comments we've shared back and forth. And that in itself has made this entire period of "blogging" worth it all.
As a gifted writer, she has had her share of the bullshit artists have to contend with. Rude, unneccesary comments have been thrown at her, people have bugged her because they contend that everything she writes about is all about her, and damnit, that isn't what being a writer and an author is about. It's about being able to be whoever you need to be at that particular moment and putting into words so the reader "feels" the emotions that they are trying to convey. In a word to the question"Is she able to that?" the answer is an unequivocal YES!
My heart was broken when I went to her site one day and found out that the pressure from so many trying to put her words into being things that meant them or her caused her to discontinue her site. I can't imagine how she must have felt, but I understand that when an author writes, so many ignorant assholes assume everything you are writing about is strictly about you. Finally, she took all she could and said to hell with it and moved on to another site so she could write and be her creative self and do so with a select audience. I was honored to be included in an invitation to be a part of that select audience. And yes, faithful few, even though I don't really "know" this wonderful and talented young woman, I consider her a very close friend.
Someday, folks, you'll be reading this young lady's writings, and it won't be online, either. I truly believe she's going to become a published author by a bonafide publisher. I can't wait to see that happen for her. And it's not a question of "if?", but a question of "when?"
She will make her mark for so many to see, and I will continue to do my thing here on my site, because that is truly where my writing will remain, because I'm nowhere near the writer she is. And I can live with that. I'm not selfish, folks, and I'm thrilled that something wonderful lies ahead for this talented young lady.
I'm happy and contented to be able to do my blogs, to have my faithful few who continue to read, and I hope that in the future I receive more comments on the site, because they do make me feel honored that you've taken the time to write something in response.
In the future, Lord willing, I'm going to rise above the problems I have health-wise and I'm going to continue to add to my site with more nonsense, somesense, poetry, and my continuing serial. I hope to someday soon begin to add short stories, possibly a novella, and whatever else happens to float my boat at the time.
I hope you all, my faithful few, continue to read and hopefully enjoy at least part of what I'm writing. The positive comments help, and thankfully, so far, I've not received any negative. I'll deal with that when it happens, but for right now, I'll take what I get and let it motivate me onward to do more in the future.
Do I care about how you feel about how I've done and what I've written?
HELL YES!
Do I think I've offended anyone?
Probably!
But that's what makes writing such a challenge.
And that's what keeps this fat old bald fart going!
Trust me, if you read all this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you got thru part of it, I still thank you.
And if you want to please a 54 year old guy who never got to be the writer he always wanted to be and you have something positive to say, please, take a moment and please leave a comment.
As far as what lies ahead here, I have no idea. I only know the motivation is here to keep trying to do it as long as I can and hope that I'm pleasing at least one person along the way.
Let me end this blog by writing something unique enough that it might catch your attention, ok?
A flat basketball without ink in it can do more damage to the sunspots than the average joe when he fails to pay for his cup of coffee after filling up his car with overpriced gas, unless it's in one of the two remaining states that don't observe Daylight Savings Time!
And finally, from the bottom of my heart:
Go get 'em, Autumn!
It's been nearly a year now since I started this little venture of mine, and I look at where I started and where I've arrived at this moment.
Actually, at this very moment, I'm enjoying a glass of the first homebrew I've made in close to 14 years...and I have to admit, it's pretty darned good. My wonderful wife Peggy bought me a beer machine for my birthday last month, and today, my first batch finished up and I'm sampling the contents of said batch. Now, while it's a bit on the cloudy side, it doesn't lack in the taste category at all. Matter of fact, it's damned good tasting, to say the very least. And I figure as I start homebrewing again, I'll learn as I go along and things will improve with age.
In March of last year, my friend of 30 years, Kingfish, aka ems, aka Jeff, and aka Benji sent me the url to a site by a friend of his, Space Ace. It thru SA's site that I discovered blogspot. I fought off the urge to start my own site for close to a month, and then finally, in April of last year, I decided, what the heck, let's see if I can do this. For every reason I could think of not to, I thought of five or six reasons why I should. The shoulds won out, obviously.
So, what have I accomplished so far?
Let's ponder this for a moment....
Okay, enough pondering!
I've awakened in me the desire to write again, whether it be just to give my views on a certain issue, write a poem, or just blow off, I have found the entire experience a revelation to the stirring that still exists in this 54 year old soul of mine that needs to be released. See, I always wanted to be a writer, and for reasons we won't get into now, that didn't happen. BUT, when Kingfish and all his various aka's sent me SA's blogsite, I found something that intrigued the writer in me that still wanted to get his feet wet, and I started this thing we now call blogging.
So, what have I gained from it?
First, I have found out that I still have the yearning to write. That makes me happy, so therefore, that is a good thing, as far as I can tell at this point. Thanks to ems, and his various aka's, he sent my url for my site to others for them to check out. They, for the most part, have remained silent, so I don't know if any of them are reading or not, but I have had a couple of people I didn't know send me e-mails and tell me that they had liked what I had written up to that point, which I have to admit, has been many months ago.
I also shared my site with friends and associates of mine, some who have told me they liked, some who have told me they didn't, and still others who tell me I need to be locked up in a state hospital somewhere and eating pureed food and pablum. And that's okay, too, because I enjoy making people wonder just what it is I'm getting at when I write.
Last April I went off on this entire big speel about Daylight Savings Time in Indiana and the possiblity of Indiana finally getting with the 21st century but taking a step backward and moving back into the Central Time Zone, which thankfully, we didn't. And, on April 2nd of this year, for the first time in literally decades, because I was a teenager the last time we observed DST, Indiana is finally going to go back on DST, and I for one am thrilled to death about it.
Will I write another blog about it once we start doing again? I have no idea. I usually don't know what these fingers are going to start typing until I sit down in front of the keyboard and they begin moving with a mind of their own. I did, however, realize not long after I started writing, that I didn't want my blogsite to become nothing more than an editorial page. I decided to just do what came to mind, type whatever came up in my mind and take it from there.
Since then I've just "blogged." And to be honest, I hate that term. Blog to me sounds like a serious medical condition. I prefer to call it more simply, just "writing." I remember the first time I threw in a poem, it felt good, so I decided I could do that on a more regular basis.
I flashbacked to my years in high school and when I was a part of "Summer Heat" and I decided to make "Remembering Summer Heat" a serial, with installments to cover a vast amount of time in between episodes, and trust me, the next installment is coming soon.
I took an evening and wrote a piece of total nonsense, which I used to love to do, and I threw that in, just to see if anyone responded. And indeed they did, I believe it was two spam responses, but what the hell! My piece was total nonsense and so was their response, so it served a purpose as well.
I've had customers come up to me where I work and tell me they read my site regularly, and that thrills me to no end. I had a couple of people tell me in person that they thought I had actual talent! That touched my heart.
And then the truly amazing thing I hadn't expected to happen, HAPPENED! I started reading other peoples' sites, and as I read them, I gained a broader spectrum of what blogging was about and believe me, I've seen and read some really interesting, uninteresting, and some totally worthless sites.
I discovered blogporn, and thanks, but I can certainly do without that. I found out that a lot of businesses use blogging to gain attention, and while I think that's cool, I have a problem with people gaining free advertising from their blogs. For instance, I have a sideline business that I go thru proper channels to advertise, and have yet to use my site to advertise it. I don't find it ethical, in the first place, and am actually quite surprised that people do this, but what the hell? This is basically free speech, so more power to you. You use your blogsite and advertise, I'll spend my hard earned money and advertise my alpaca farm thru other channels, ok? And no, that wasn't a plug for my farm. If it had been, I would have named the farm for you, etc...
Then one day while going thru random blogs I happened upon a young woman's site that caught my eye. I read the entry in front of me that appeared, and was so impressed, that I continued to read further back at other entries she had written. I was so impressed with what I had read, I went back to the very beginning of her site and read every single entry she had written. To say I was thrilled to have discovered her site would be an injustice, because, quite honestly, her writings blew me away! She wrote in a poetic style that captured my attention, my heart and my love of the written word. When I read in her intro that she had only been writing for a few months, I was amazed, because truly, she writes some of the best poetry I have read in years. She possesses a style that is so unique, so her own and so uncanny.
I was an instant fan and left a brief comment to let her know how much I enjoyed what I had read. I had no idea that this young single mother of two would capture my attention to the extent that she has. I so admire her writing style and I so admire her ability to write about almost anything she's given the challenge to write about. I daily check her site and am disappointed if she hasn't added any new entries, but hey, after all, this young woman is not only a single mother of two, she's a full time student as well. Trust me, folks, this girl is on it and I have an admiration for her she wouldn't believe!
I shared her site with others, with my friends and associates, my wife, hell, anyone I could think of that I thought would appreciate her unique style of poetry. People came to me, called me, and e-mailed me and told me what a great author I had discovered. And as much as I would love to say that I "discovered" her, that would be a lie, because truly, she is an author in a class by herself and I had nothing to do with discovering her, but I've done my dead level best to encourage her to continue to write and to pursue a career beyond "blogging." And yes, faithful readers, she's honestly that damned good.
I don't really know her, but I feel she's a close friend. I don't where she's from, what she does other than being a full time mommy and student, and I don't know anything other than what I've read that she's written and the comments we've shared back and forth. And that in itself has made this entire period of "blogging" worth it all.
As a gifted writer, she has had her share of the bullshit artists have to contend with. Rude, unneccesary comments have been thrown at her, people have bugged her because they contend that everything she writes about is all about her, and damnit, that isn't what being a writer and an author is about. It's about being able to be whoever you need to be at that particular moment and putting into words so the reader "feels" the emotions that they are trying to convey. In a word to the question"Is she able to that?" the answer is an unequivocal YES!
My heart was broken when I went to her site one day and found out that the pressure from so many trying to put her words into being things that meant them or her caused her to discontinue her site. I can't imagine how she must have felt, but I understand that when an author writes, so many ignorant assholes assume everything you are writing about is strictly about you. Finally, she took all she could and said to hell with it and moved on to another site so she could write and be her creative self and do so with a select audience. I was honored to be included in an invitation to be a part of that select audience. And yes, faithful few, even though I don't really "know" this wonderful and talented young woman, I consider her a very close friend.
Someday, folks, you'll be reading this young lady's writings, and it won't be online, either. I truly believe she's going to become a published author by a bonafide publisher. I can't wait to see that happen for her. And it's not a question of "if?", but a question of "when?"
She will make her mark for so many to see, and I will continue to do my thing here on my site, because that is truly where my writing will remain, because I'm nowhere near the writer she is. And I can live with that. I'm not selfish, folks, and I'm thrilled that something wonderful lies ahead for this talented young lady.
I'm happy and contented to be able to do my blogs, to have my faithful few who continue to read, and I hope that in the future I receive more comments on the site, because they do make me feel honored that you've taken the time to write something in response.
In the future, Lord willing, I'm going to rise above the problems I have health-wise and I'm going to continue to add to my site with more nonsense, somesense, poetry, and my continuing serial. I hope to someday soon begin to add short stories, possibly a novella, and whatever else happens to float my boat at the time.
I hope you all, my faithful few, continue to read and hopefully enjoy at least part of what I'm writing. The positive comments help, and thankfully, so far, I've not received any negative. I'll deal with that when it happens, but for right now, I'll take what I get and let it motivate me onward to do more in the future.
Do I care about how you feel about how I've done and what I've written?
HELL YES!
Do I think I've offended anyone?
Probably!
But that's what makes writing such a challenge.
And that's what keeps this fat old bald fart going!
Trust me, if you read all this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you got thru part of it, I still thank you.
And if you want to please a 54 year old guy who never got to be the writer he always wanted to be and you have something positive to say, please, take a moment and please leave a comment.
As far as what lies ahead here, I have no idea. I only know the motivation is here to keep trying to do it as long as I can and hope that I'm pleasing at least one person along the way.
Let me end this blog by writing something unique enough that it might catch your attention, ok?
A flat basketball without ink in it can do more damage to the sunspots than the average joe when he fails to pay for his cup of coffee after filling up his car with overpriced gas, unless it's in one of the two remaining states that don't observe Daylight Savings Time!
And finally, from the bottom of my heart:
Go get 'em, Autumn!
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Crystal Flight of Elijah
The camel's back.
He shows the picturesque pose
Of being dictated into a reality
Not of his own
Creating.
An instant of awkwardness,
Flashes of thought
Randomly seeking refuge,
Hovering only for an instant:
Death!
He shows the picturesque pose
Of being dictated into a reality
Not of his own
Creating.
An instant of awkwardness,
Flashes of thought
Randomly seeking refuge,
Hovering only for an instant:
Death!
Sunday, March 05, 2006
An Evening Stroll Of Need
An abandoned umbrella, blowing crazily down the street
As the rain begins slacking off.
Pulling my jacket close to my neck
In a futile effort to keep the cold and
Rain from getting me cold and wet.
I can't remember how long I've been walking out here,
I only know my breath plumes out in a haze as I walk,
And I believe part of my dampness comes from sweat and
Not the rain.
Off in the distance
I hear the forlorn crying of a lonely dog,
Its howl adding to the dreariness of the night.
I know the moon hangs full in the sky
But the clouds from the storm
Keep it hidden from view
As well as the stars.
The streets appear deserted
People hidden behind the shelter of their homes
And warmed by fires from their furnaces and fireplaces.
I'm so alone out here tonight
Searching for the one thing that will bring
An end to my ravenous hunger.
A black cat crosses in front of me
Its back arching and hisses coming from it
As it greets my presence
And runs off into the night.
I hate the loneliness of this night
Yet at the same time I relish its existence,
For it makes my search easier
Amongst the wind and the rain that has
Taken the umbrella into its dark prison,
Out of my sight forever this evening,
Its path so far removed from my own.
Ahead I hear the shallow breathing,
My hearing has become so keen,
And I hear the gasps that come along with its
Shallowness,
Knowing that the possessor of these gasps
Is trying hard to find refuge on this night.
I feel the saliva begin to flow in anticipation
And I move myself closer to the the darkness of the
Grass next to the sidewalk
Trying so hard to stay out of view until the critical
Moment arrives.
Although the full moon remains hidden by the clouds
Its effect upon me even as if it were in full view,
Creating the hunger that can only be satisfied
By the blood of one so full of fear,
By the one who has yet to know they have
But brief moments of tranquility left
Before I strike.
This curse has followed me for so many years now,
I've actually forgotten the failed attack
That afflicted me with this yearning passion
So many years ago,
But I've never forgotten the hunger that it has
Created,
And the hunger must be satisfied,
Regardless of the costs involved.
An unlit building approaches, taking my refuge
In the dark wet grass away,
And as I glance at my dark reflection
In the window to my left,
I'm awestruck at what I see peering back at me.
I can't believe this creature with the long snout
And long fangs is me,
And that long hair that covers my face
Is much longer than I remember it.
Yet, there are no longer wisps of gray
Mingled in,
The nightly feedings of the full moons
Of many years have taken that gray away,
Leaving only the dark black that I see now.
As I pass the building, I pause in the dark shadow
It has left behind
And I wait for my prey
Who has gotten so close now
That I can smell the plumes of breath
They are exhaling.
I watch as they approach,
Their attention directed towards their feet
And out of the rain that falls at their face,
My presence in the shadow of the building
An invisible one.
The believe they are alone,
And I allow them this pleasure a few extra seconds
As they pass by me,
Unknowing and ignorant of me,
Only worried about their journey
In the rain.
In mere moments my hunger and thirst will be quenched,
As it is so many nights just like this,
Their cries of anguish will excite me
And drive me forward in my quest
As their lifesource becomes mine
And generates the fuel needed by my soul
That feeds my eternal damnation.
As I begin my approach, I wonder for a moment
Just how many more nights will I feed like this,
How many more nights will I take the soul
And lifeblood of a living being
To further the length of my own life?
Those thoughts begin to fade as I make my approach
Much like those of a thief in the night
They know not that I am here,
They cannot hear me approaching,
They cannot know the longing and the hunger
That I am about to feed.
I'm swift, I'm cunning and I'm greedy in my assault.
Success is assured
As the killing begins...
As the rain begins slacking off.
Pulling my jacket close to my neck
In a futile effort to keep the cold and
Rain from getting me cold and wet.
I can't remember how long I've been walking out here,
I only know my breath plumes out in a haze as I walk,
And I believe part of my dampness comes from sweat and
Not the rain.
Off in the distance
I hear the forlorn crying of a lonely dog,
Its howl adding to the dreariness of the night.
I know the moon hangs full in the sky
But the clouds from the storm
Keep it hidden from view
As well as the stars.
The streets appear deserted
People hidden behind the shelter of their homes
And warmed by fires from their furnaces and fireplaces.
I'm so alone out here tonight
Searching for the one thing that will bring
An end to my ravenous hunger.
A black cat crosses in front of me
Its back arching and hisses coming from it
As it greets my presence
And runs off into the night.
I hate the loneliness of this night
Yet at the same time I relish its existence,
For it makes my search easier
Amongst the wind and the rain that has
Taken the umbrella into its dark prison,
Out of my sight forever this evening,
Its path so far removed from my own.
Ahead I hear the shallow breathing,
My hearing has become so keen,
And I hear the gasps that come along with its
Shallowness,
Knowing that the possessor of these gasps
Is trying hard to find refuge on this night.
I feel the saliva begin to flow in anticipation
And I move myself closer to the the darkness of the
Grass next to the sidewalk
Trying so hard to stay out of view until the critical
Moment arrives.
Although the full moon remains hidden by the clouds
Its effect upon me even as if it were in full view,
Creating the hunger that can only be satisfied
By the blood of one so full of fear,
By the one who has yet to know they have
But brief moments of tranquility left
Before I strike.
This curse has followed me for so many years now,
I've actually forgotten the failed attack
That afflicted me with this yearning passion
So many years ago,
But I've never forgotten the hunger that it has
Created,
And the hunger must be satisfied,
Regardless of the costs involved.
An unlit building approaches, taking my refuge
In the dark wet grass away,
And as I glance at my dark reflection
In the window to my left,
I'm awestruck at what I see peering back at me.
I can't believe this creature with the long snout
And long fangs is me,
And that long hair that covers my face
Is much longer than I remember it.
Yet, there are no longer wisps of gray
Mingled in,
The nightly feedings of the full moons
Of many years have taken that gray away,
Leaving only the dark black that I see now.
As I pass the building, I pause in the dark shadow
It has left behind
And I wait for my prey
Who has gotten so close now
That I can smell the plumes of breath
They are exhaling.
I watch as they approach,
Their attention directed towards their feet
And out of the rain that falls at their face,
My presence in the shadow of the building
An invisible one.
The believe they are alone,
And I allow them this pleasure a few extra seconds
As they pass by me,
Unknowing and ignorant of me,
Only worried about their journey
In the rain.
In mere moments my hunger and thirst will be quenched,
As it is so many nights just like this,
Their cries of anguish will excite me
And drive me forward in my quest
As their lifesource becomes mine
And generates the fuel needed by my soul
That feeds my eternal damnation.
As I begin my approach, I wonder for a moment
Just how many more nights will I feed like this,
How many more nights will I take the soul
And lifeblood of a living being
To further the length of my own life?
Those thoughts begin to fade as I make my approach
Much like those of a thief in the night
They know not that I am here,
They cannot hear me approaching,
They cannot know the longing and the hunger
That I am about to feed.
I'm swift, I'm cunning and I'm greedy in my assault.
Success is assured
As the killing begins...
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Decisions, Decisions
This is a postscript to my last posting.
You know, I try very hard not to whine and complain and about my aches and pains, but you know, this past few months has taken such a toll on me, I can't begin to tell you how bad it has really been.
After going thru two carpal tunnel surgeries and my physical therapy sessions, I truly thought I had this problem licked. As I've stated before, my right surgery went so well at first, and sixteen hours after surgery my carpal tunnel pain had gone. Other than the pain where I had the surgery itself, I was amazed at how good I felt.
Then came surgery number two on the left hand, and things didn't go so well with it. It was the worse of the two, and it didn't respond quite as well at first. But, after continual visits to physical therapy and therapy done at home and after returning to work, things with the left hand really started getting better.
Now, about two to three weeks ago, new pain began surfacing in the right shoulder, arm, wrist and hand. This pain, however, was much different than what I had had before surgery. This pain can only be described as excruciating at times, and it feels like my arm, shoulder and wrist are being crushed constantly. There are very few positions that I can put my arm in that I'm not in damned near sheer agony! Sleep is becoming harder and harder to accomplish, and for someone who suffers from chronic insomnia to begin with, let me tell you, this really sucks.
I've tried taking the meds prescribed by both my neurologist and my surgeon. The really "good stuff" that they gave me after both surgeries is gone now, but even before I ran out of it, it didn't seem to do much good. The neurologist has me on muscle relaxers three times a day and the surgeon has me on a non-narcotic pain pill, and though they seem to help a little, the pain persists. I go to work each day, do my job to its fullest, and then come home in the evening and endure an entire evening of sheer hell with my arm.
The neurologist explained to me a few months ago before I had my surgeries that I had degenerative arthritis of the spine and that the spurs that had formed from that were pushing into my nerves, causing me the pain in my right arm. After four weeks of PT, most of that pain had subsided. Now, unfortunately, it's decided to return, worse than before and with an unbelieveable intensity.
He tells me surgery in that area is too risky, so, here I am, trying to handle the pain with exercise here at home and mild pain medication. I'm hoping that soon, the exercises start strengthening that area of my spine and that the pain will begin to subside. Unfortuntately, it's hot happening soon enough to suit me.
So, I guess now I wait and see what happens, because, frankly, my sick leave is about gone from work and I can't afford time off again. Hopefully with my dedication to my therapy here at home and with the docs' prescriptions and a few prayers, maybe someday in the near future I'll feel more like myself again.
And as bad as I feel and as sorry as I've felt for myself, I look around and see so many others that are so worse off than myself, and I feel guilty that I'm so self-centered about this pain I'm having. Lord, I don't have cancer, I have all my limbs and I'm able to go to work each day and I'm able to put a smile on my face and try and do what I like to do with my job and that's give my customers 110% of myself each and everyday and try and make them happy. I hope I can keep doing this each day, because, honestly, it's getting harder to put that smile on my face each day as this pain persists.
But I'm sure going to keep trying.
I'm also really going to try and get on here more and do my thing with my writing, because I really miss making my regular entries. It's also nice to hear I've been missed, whether it's been by a posted comment or by someone telling me in person. I appreciate hearing that from you folks, I truly do.
So, I'm done whining for the evening, and I thank you all for putting up with my gloomy side tonight. I promise to do better next time and try not to cry on your shoulders.
Now, I might consider letting the United Arab Emirates take over my pain for me....hmmmmm.
You know, I try very hard not to whine and complain and about my aches and pains, but you know, this past few months has taken such a toll on me, I can't begin to tell you how bad it has really been.
After going thru two carpal tunnel surgeries and my physical therapy sessions, I truly thought I had this problem licked. As I've stated before, my right surgery went so well at first, and sixteen hours after surgery my carpal tunnel pain had gone. Other than the pain where I had the surgery itself, I was amazed at how good I felt.
Then came surgery number two on the left hand, and things didn't go so well with it. It was the worse of the two, and it didn't respond quite as well at first. But, after continual visits to physical therapy and therapy done at home and after returning to work, things with the left hand really started getting better.
Now, about two to three weeks ago, new pain began surfacing in the right shoulder, arm, wrist and hand. This pain, however, was much different than what I had had before surgery. This pain can only be described as excruciating at times, and it feels like my arm, shoulder and wrist are being crushed constantly. There are very few positions that I can put my arm in that I'm not in damned near sheer agony! Sleep is becoming harder and harder to accomplish, and for someone who suffers from chronic insomnia to begin with, let me tell you, this really sucks.
I've tried taking the meds prescribed by both my neurologist and my surgeon. The really "good stuff" that they gave me after both surgeries is gone now, but even before I ran out of it, it didn't seem to do much good. The neurologist has me on muscle relaxers three times a day and the surgeon has me on a non-narcotic pain pill, and though they seem to help a little, the pain persists. I go to work each day, do my job to its fullest, and then come home in the evening and endure an entire evening of sheer hell with my arm.
The neurologist explained to me a few months ago before I had my surgeries that I had degenerative arthritis of the spine and that the spurs that had formed from that were pushing into my nerves, causing me the pain in my right arm. After four weeks of PT, most of that pain had subsided. Now, unfortunately, it's decided to return, worse than before and with an unbelieveable intensity.
He tells me surgery in that area is too risky, so, here I am, trying to handle the pain with exercise here at home and mild pain medication. I'm hoping that soon, the exercises start strengthening that area of my spine and that the pain will begin to subside. Unfortuntately, it's hot happening soon enough to suit me.
So, I guess now I wait and see what happens, because, frankly, my sick leave is about gone from work and I can't afford time off again. Hopefully with my dedication to my therapy here at home and with the docs' prescriptions and a few prayers, maybe someday in the near future I'll feel more like myself again.
And as bad as I feel and as sorry as I've felt for myself, I look around and see so many others that are so worse off than myself, and I feel guilty that I'm so self-centered about this pain I'm having. Lord, I don't have cancer, I have all my limbs and I'm able to go to work each day and I'm able to put a smile on my face and try and do what I like to do with my job and that's give my customers 110% of myself each and everyday and try and make them happy. I hope I can keep doing this each day, because, honestly, it's getting harder to put that smile on my face each day as this pain persists.
But I'm sure going to keep trying.
I'm also really going to try and get on here more and do my thing with my writing, because I really miss making my regular entries. It's also nice to hear I've been missed, whether it's been by a posted comment or by someone telling me in person. I appreciate hearing that from you folks, I truly do.
So, I'm done whining for the evening, and I thank you all for putting up with my gloomy side tonight. I promise to do better next time and try not to cry on your shoulders.
Now, I might consider letting the United Arab Emirates take over my pain for me....hmmmmm.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
An Update of Sorts, Amen!
Someone recently came up to me and asked me why I hadn't posted anything recently as far my views go on some kind of current event going on and that they missed that. Actually, there are several reasons for that.
Number one, since I had both of my surgeries back in December, I've not really felt a great deal like sitting in front of the keyboard for any meaningful length of time because frankly, it hurts quite a bit still, even all these weeks later. Apparently, the problem now is not my carpal tunnel post surgery, but the degenerative arthritis I have in my spine. I have a pretty bad case according to the neurologist, and apparently I have bone spurs now that are pressing into the nerves along my spine in the area that controls my right shoulder, arm and hand. In the past two weeks the pain has become nearly constant and is some of the worst pain I've ever had to endure. I know I need to get back to the doctor, but trust me, with what I've spent out of my pocket already and the fact that my sick leave has all but run out, I'm going to have to work something out other than see yet another doctor.
Also, I do indeed plan on getting back with the program here and on a much more routine basis. I have several ideas in the works for topics I would like to discuss and expound upon, and I am also trying to locate some of my writings from 25 or so years ago that I'm going to include on the site, hoping that my faithful will find entertaining.
So bear with me, faithful readers, I promise that very soon there will a more routine schedule of blogs to appear. As our warmer weather slowly approaches, I'm hoping the pain subsides and I have began a more faithful regimen of physical therapy in an effort to try and help myself out.
In the meantime, please continue to check back with me from time to time and I will do my best to serve up more drivel from the bent mind of the original Rainbow Demon.
And no, I'm not planning on selling the rights to my page to the United Arab Emirates at anytime soon, either!
Number one, since I had both of my surgeries back in December, I've not really felt a great deal like sitting in front of the keyboard for any meaningful length of time because frankly, it hurts quite a bit still, even all these weeks later. Apparently, the problem now is not my carpal tunnel post surgery, but the degenerative arthritis I have in my spine. I have a pretty bad case according to the neurologist, and apparently I have bone spurs now that are pressing into the nerves along my spine in the area that controls my right shoulder, arm and hand. In the past two weeks the pain has become nearly constant and is some of the worst pain I've ever had to endure. I know I need to get back to the doctor, but trust me, with what I've spent out of my pocket already and the fact that my sick leave has all but run out, I'm going to have to work something out other than see yet another doctor.
Also, I do indeed plan on getting back with the program here and on a much more routine basis. I have several ideas in the works for topics I would like to discuss and expound upon, and I am also trying to locate some of my writings from 25 or so years ago that I'm going to include on the site, hoping that my faithful will find entertaining.
So bear with me, faithful readers, I promise that very soon there will a more routine schedule of blogs to appear. As our warmer weather slowly approaches, I'm hoping the pain subsides and I have began a more faithful regimen of physical therapy in an effort to try and help myself out.
In the meantime, please continue to check back with me from time to time and I will do my best to serve up more drivel from the bent mind of the original Rainbow Demon.
And no, I'm not planning on selling the rights to my page to the United Arab Emirates at anytime soon, either!
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Anniversary Analogy
A feeling rises in my throat
Each time you walk by,
Causing my breath to become short
And my head a little dizzy.
My palms become sweaty,
A smile invades my face
And I find myself smiling
Even tho I don't want that smile there.
A numbness comes into my chest
And the intrigue of being nearing you
Places a feeling in my heart
Never caused by another.
How, after all this time
Can you still do this to me
Make my love grow stronger
And yearn to be with you more?
Twenty four hours a day isn't enough
Time for us to be together,
But it's all God allows to have
Day in, day out, year in, and year out.
You've been in my life now for over 30 years
And a part of me now for twenty-eight.
I can't imagine life without you now,
I can't imagine starting each day without you
And hope I never have to.
Each time you walk by,
Causing my breath to become short
And my head a little dizzy.
My palms become sweaty,
A smile invades my face
And I find myself smiling
Even tho I don't want that smile there.
A numbness comes into my chest
And the intrigue of being nearing you
Places a feeling in my heart
Never caused by another.
How, after all this time
Can you still do this to me
Make my love grow stronger
And yearn to be with you more?
Twenty four hours a day isn't enough
Time for us to be together,
But it's all God allows to have
Day in, day out, year in, and year out.
You've been in my life now for over 30 years
And a part of me now for twenty-eight.
I can't imagine life without you now,
I can't imagine starting each day without you
And hope I never have to.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Process Of Being
As one soul begins living
Another soul dies
As the one soul laughs
The other one cries.
When hate turns to love
And love turns to hate
A frown begins smiling
As another smile degrades.
As passion increases
And love finds its way
All thoughts and rationality
Begin to decay.
Out of the blue
The arrow hits its mark
Straight to its target
The frail human heart.
As the light begins fading
And distinguishes its flame
The whole entire process
Sets in motion again.
Another soul dies
As the one soul laughs
The other one cries.
When hate turns to love
And love turns to hate
A frown begins smiling
As another smile degrades.
As passion increases
And love finds its way
All thoughts and rationality
Begin to decay.
Out of the blue
The arrow hits its mark
Straight to its target
The frail human heart.
As the light begins fading
And distinguishes its flame
The whole entire process
Sets in motion again.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Sunday Morning Winter View
Snow blowing and swirling past my window
As I look out at the white pastoral
Scene Mother Nature has left
With her hands we call the wind.
A blanket of white covers the ground,
The road,
Leaving the trees with a new crop
Of white leaves
On bare limbs
As the white fence accumulates a fresh
New whiteness that failed to exist just
Hours ago.
The wind howls with a music
Of its own,
Creating an overture that while similar
To ones I've heard before
Will forever be heard this same way
Only this once,
The pattern and pitch for this performance only.
I find refuge inside by the fireplace
A warm cup of hot chocolate
Laced with the spirits of
Peppermint schnapps in hand
Which courses its way down my throat
Warming me
And lifting my spirits,
Allowing me to enjoy the beauty
Of this winter scene
Created by surging winds
Whose paths will never cross
This same pattern ever again.
God's gift on a winter day,
A panoramic scene of crusted snow
That will never be duplicated the same
Ever again.
The beauty of which we have mere
Hours to enjoy
And to behold.
Mine eyes have the seen the glory.
As I look out at the white pastoral
Scene Mother Nature has left
With her hands we call the wind.
A blanket of white covers the ground,
The road,
Leaving the trees with a new crop
Of white leaves
On bare limbs
As the white fence accumulates a fresh
New whiteness that failed to exist just
Hours ago.
The wind howls with a music
Of its own,
Creating an overture that while similar
To ones I've heard before
Will forever be heard this same way
Only this once,
The pattern and pitch for this performance only.
I find refuge inside by the fireplace
A warm cup of hot chocolate
Laced with the spirits of
Peppermint schnapps in hand
Which courses its way down my throat
Warming me
And lifting my spirits,
Allowing me to enjoy the beauty
Of this winter scene
Created by surging winds
Whose paths will never cross
This same pattern ever again.
God's gift on a winter day,
A panoramic scene of crusted snow
That will never be duplicated the same
Ever again.
The beauty of which we have mere
Hours to enjoy
And to behold.
Mine eyes have the seen the glory.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
A Return To Normalcy, Well, Somewhat
Tomorrow I return to work for the first time since I left December 14th to undergo two separate carpal tunnel surgeries, one on the 15th, one on the 30th. It's been a long six weeks off, and one with mixed reaction.
My right hand handled the surgery fantastically for the most part, sure there was pain, not just from surgery and healing but from therapy as well. But healing wise, the right hand really responded well to the surgery and the therapy. The incision is still quite sore, lots of underlying scar tissue that eventually I'll have broken down thru massage and probably a tear or two.
My left hand was a different story. The carpal tunnel was worse in that hand, and it caused me a lot more pain than the right one did. When the stitches were removed, it decided to do a Moses and the Red Sea bit and it opened back up. There's still a lot of scabbing, still a lot of pain that hasn't decided to leave yet, but I've gone thru my therapy, I'm doing it here at home, and it's time to get back with the program.
I imagine the first few days are going to be a bit hard, mainly because my hands still aren't as dextrous as they need to be, but that will come back. I imagine a few of my co-workers might bless me with a bit of the cold shoulder because I was away from work for as long as I was. Actually, I'm hoping the lot of them are understanding to what I had to go thru, because I sure wouldn't have gone thru all that just to get away from work.
I love my job, I love my customers, and it will be great to see them tomorrow and it will be great to be back out amongst the real world again. Give me a few days, probably a few exhausting ones and frustrating to begin with, but all in all, I'm truly looking forward to heading back to work.
My time served tells me I have less than three years before I can retire. During those years I've got a lot of decisions to make. First and above all else, will I really hang it up when the time comes? As much as I've said yes over the years, now I'm not so sure. I've thought about maybe hanging in there for another year or two, but I'm just not sure. I'd like to go the day I'm eligible, but I don't know if I'm going to be financially able and sound enough to do so.
Thankfully I've got the better part of three years to decide, and until then, I have a great job that I love, a super group of people that I work with, and the best damned customers one could ever ask for. Sure hope I feel like that at this time tomorrow evening...just kidding...
For those of my faithful few, hey, gang, I've made it thru another hurdle. Tomorrow reality heads back, and I'm ready for the ride once again.
Onward.....
My right hand handled the surgery fantastically for the most part, sure there was pain, not just from surgery and healing but from therapy as well. But healing wise, the right hand really responded well to the surgery and the therapy. The incision is still quite sore, lots of underlying scar tissue that eventually I'll have broken down thru massage and probably a tear or two.
My left hand was a different story. The carpal tunnel was worse in that hand, and it caused me a lot more pain than the right one did. When the stitches were removed, it decided to do a Moses and the Red Sea bit and it opened back up. There's still a lot of scabbing, still a lot of pain that hasn't decided to leave yet, but I've gone thru my therapy, I'm doing it here at home, and it's time to get back with the program.
I imagine the first few days are going to be a bit hard, mainly because my hands still aren't as dextrous as they need to be, but that will come back. I imagine a few of my co-workers might bless me with a bit of the cold shoulder because I was away from work for as long as I was. Actually, I'm hoping the lot of them are understanding to what I had to go thru, because I sure wouldn't have gone thru all that just to get away from work.
I love my job, I love my customers, and it will be great to see them tomorrow and it will be great to be back out amongst the real world again. Give me a few days, probably a few exhausting ones and frustrating to begin with, but all in all, I'm truly looking forward to heading back to work.
My time served tells me I have less than three years before I can retire. During those years I've got a lot of decisions to make. First and above all else, will I really hang it up when the time comes? As much as I've said yes over the years, now I'm not so sure. I've thought about maybe hanging in there for another year or two, but I'm just not sure. I'd like to go the day I'm eligible, but I don't know if I'm going to be financially able and sound enough to do so.
Thankfully I've got the better part of three years to decide, and until then, I have a great job that I love, a super group of people that I work with, and the best damned customers one could ever ask for. Sure hope I feel like that at this time tomorrow evening...just kidding...
For those of my faithful few, hey, gang, I've made it thru another hurdle. Tomorrow reality heads back, and I'm ready for the ride once again.
Onward.....
Monday, January 23, 2006
Inside The Head Of A Birthfather
We often hear the tales of those birthmothers who, because of their age or their living conditions, they give up the rights to their child at birth, and wonder for years to come whatever became of the child. I've many stories and heard many interviews of these birthmothers, but I've yet to hear one from the birthfather's side. The following is my vision of being inside the head of a birthfather:
Inside The Head Of A Birthfather
It's so hard to imagine that come this August, it will have been 37 years since that faithful afternoon I spent with your Mother in that hot cornfield, parked back towards a woods, the remained of an 8 pack of beer lying on the floor, a couple of joints since burnt and floating in our lungs, and two hits apiece of speed coursing its way thru our bloodstreams.
I remember vividly, almost like it was a few days ago, when I first laid eyes on your Mom dancing to the music of a band called The Glass Calendar at the Young America stage at the state fair. She looked so fine that day, cut off blue top and a pair of white hot pants so tight I wondered how she managed to breathe, but oh, my, she did indeed breathe and when she did she took my breath away. Even though I wasn't a dancer, it didn't take me long to make my way over to her and start talking to her about the band and how good they were.
We talked for a good hour or so, I remember buying her a lemon shake-up, and we took a short walk away from the Young America stage and ended up at the parking lot where my car was parked. We stood outside the car, talked a while longer, and then decided to take a drive around the city and get away from the crowd at the fairgrounds.
Marilyn, such a beautiful name she had, Marilyn found her brother who was over 21 and he was coaxed by her into buying us an 8 pack of beer, which we took out of town a ways and enjoyed, as well as our speed and our reefer. We buzzed so pleasantly together, and before we knew what was happening, we started kissing, slowly at first, then with more passion, and no long after that we managed to find ourselves in the backseat of that white '63 Chevy of mine, naked and doing things that neither one of us had ever done before that day. It was special, not just because of the lust that had been involved, but it had been the first time for each of us, so neither one of us really thought there would be anything to worry about, since both of us were virgins.
I remember getting back to the fairgrounds close to dark and dropping you off. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, but I think both of us knew that day that it was probably going to just be a one time thing for us. I was only partially right in my thinking.
Six weeks passed, and while sitting home on a Sunday afternoon by myself, Marilyn called, her voice sounding strained, and I asked her what was wrong. She told me that she was late for her period, but she had been late before, and she thought I should know. Here I was, one month into my senior year in high school, as was Marilyn, and I was facing a fear I wasn't prepared for. I knew that if she was pregnant, there weren't many feasible choices. It was, you see, 1969, and back in 1969 a high school girl becoming pregnant usually meant both parents quitting high school and getting married. Even though I had no intention of attending college, I didn't want to have to quit high school when I was close to being a graduate.
I tried not to let this worry me, but Marilyn lived over 50 miles away and I just couldn't pick up a phone and call her without arousing suspicion with her folks, so we agreed that when she learned something she'd call me on a Sunday afternoon, because on most Sunday's my folks were gone for the afternoon.
The call came in early to mid October. Marilyn had an aunt who lived out in one of the far western states and this aunt was an RN. She knew someone in Indianapolis who worked for a doctor, and because Marilyn was over 18 years old, she was able to get into to see the doctor and have the tests to confirm that she was indeed pregnant.
I saw my future right there in front of me, knowing that it was going to be changing from what I had originally planned. I tried to envision telling my parents, breaking both of their hearts, and I just couldn't bring myself to grips to what had happened in the course of a few hours just a couple of months earlier in the backseat of a car. This was when Marilyn laid out the bombshell I wasn't prepared for.
She told me first off, she wasn't giving the baby up for adoption, It was a part of both of us, and even though we neither one were prepared to be responsible parents, she felt that one of us was going to have to be bold enough and make some changes in order to take care of this tiny, yet unborn life.
Marilyn was leaving Indianapolis. She was moving out west to live with her aunt and try and find work so she could be a Mommy the following March. She was going to take night classes so she could get her high school diploma, and she didn't want me to have to tell anyone what had happened. She told me that all that would do would be bring hurt upon too many people, bring two people together into a marriage that was doomed from the start and would probably put a little child's emotions at risk because of the tensions that would exist between its young parents who really didn't want to be married to each other.
I couldn't believe that she was willing to make such sacrifices, but she said she had thought long and hard about it, and after speaking with her aunt and her parents, they decided it was the only course of action to take. To my knowledge she never told her parents who the father of the child was or where he came from. She would let me give her no money, she wouldn't even give me a telephone number where I could reach her once she moved.
I talked to her twice before she made her move out west, and one time right before Christmas I called her house to see how she was doing and her Mother answered the phone and told me that Marilyn had moved a couple of weeks before I had called. She didn't ask who I was, but I think she knew, because she told me that Marilyn didn't want anyone to know how to get hold of her. I asked her Mom if she was okay, and she told me that she would be okay and that her life had started over. She never read me out, questioned me or gave me any more information than that. She did ask me to keep Marilyn in my prayers, though, and I have ever since that only time I ever spoke with her mom.
One day, the following spring, about a month before I graduated, I received a long distance call from Marilyn. She told me that I had become the physical father of beautiful little girl, a little girl who bore the feminine version of my name and Marilyn's last name. I asked her if she was happy and getting along, and she said yes to both questions. I asked her if I would ever get a chance to see my little girl, and she told me, no, probably not, because that would only cause problems and she wanted the best for "our" little girl, and best meant that I should never be a part of her life. I was responsible for giving her life, but I would not be responsible for her continuation of life.
Marilyn told me she held no grudge, that it was a mistake we both had made together, and she told me she made the decision to raise our daughter on her own, as best she could. I offered to start sending support money to her after I graduated high school and found a job, but she told me the best support I could give her was to pray for her and give her the distance she needed and not to try and contact her, ever. She also told me that the on the afternoon we spent together for just those few short hours she had fallen in love with me and would never do anything to louse up my life, because as much as she cared, she knew that by trying to be a responsible husband and wife with a little child would probably kill us both. Before she hung up she told me she still loved me and she hoped I understood the decisions she had made. She said she knew it wasn't fair to keep me out of the decision making process, but she was doing it because of the love she had for me and our little girl. I asked her when I'd hear from her again and she told me whenever she felt the time was right.
A year passed, then a year and a half, and by this time I had married and had a son of my own. I was working in retail, assistant manager of the store, and the phone rang one afternoon at the store and it was Marilyn. She told me she had to do some calling around, but she found out my home phone number, found out where I worked and called me there to let me know how things were going for her and to tell me she was visiting her family here for a few days. Naturally I asked her if I could see her and our little girl, and although hesitant at first, she told me she'd figure out a time to meet and call me back so I could finally see our little girl.
That call never came.
The year that call came was 1974 and it was the last one. I never heard from Marilyn again nor have any idea whatever became of her and our daughter.
Over the years I've often wondered what became of them, what became of her parents. I tried to contact her folks, and the phone number I still had that she had given me that day in August of 1969 was now the number of a different family, and they had never heard of Marilyn or of her family.
I've wondered over the years if Marilyn ever married, had other children or what career her life had gone. I knew that in 1974 during our last phone conversation she told me she still wasn't seeing anyone and that she had herself become involved in the medical profession and was studying to become, like her life saving aunt, an RN.
I've wondered about the little girl I helped father and give life to, and have wondered what direction her life has gone, whether she has children of her own, where she lives or for that matter if she's still alive. I have no answers to any of these questions, all I have are unanswered questions.
Chances are escaping me each and everyday that I'll ever know. If my "daughter" is still living, she's going to turn 36 years old this year. Chances are she has a great father who adopted her, gave her his name and raised her and gave her everything I was unable to give her. She's probably given her father and her mother grandchildren, and chances could be that she has kids the same age her Mom and I were when we met that day back in '69.
A part of me is out there somewhere that I'll probably never know or ever have the pleasure of knowing anything about. This was my punishment for not being responsible enough with my common sense at an age when common sense is challenged all the time.
I take this opportunity to "thank" Marilyn for all her unselfishness and the burden she carried for me and how she protected me from a mistake that we both shared in. I am sometimes so overcome with guilt, wondering if I could have tried maybe just a little bit harder in trying to find them. I only know that I did what she asked me to do at the time and have always wondered if it was the right thing. It was what she asked me to do, but I still ask myself many, many times over the years did I make the right decision by following Marilyn's wishes.
And Charlotte, if you're out there and you ever read these words and wonder if just maybe the guy that wrote them might be the guy your wonderful Mom Marilyn told you about, I'll leave that decision up to you.
I only know my life is incomplete without knowing whatever became of you.
And I hope you don't hate me for the choices I lived with and have cursed myself for over 30 years for having made.
God bless you, Honey....
Inside The Head Of A Birthfather
It's so hard to imagine that come this August, it will have been 37 years since that faithful afternoon I spent with your Mother in that hot cornfield, parked back towards a woods, the remained of an 8 pack of beer lying on the floor, a couple of joints since burnt and floating in our lungs, and two hits apiece of speed coursing its way thru our bloodstreams.
I remember vividly, almost like it was a few days ago, when I first laid eyes on your Mom dancing to the music of a band called The Glass Calendar at the Young America stage at the state fair. She looked so fine that day, cut off blue top and a pair of white hot pants so tight I wondered how she managed to breathe, but oh, my, she did indeed breathe and when she did she took my breath away. Even though I wasn't a dancer, it didn't take me long to make my way over to her and start talking to her about the band and how good they were.
We talked for a good hour or so, I remember buying her a lemon shake-up, and we took a short walk away from the Young America stage and ended up at the parking lot where my car was parked. We stood outside the car, talked a while longer, and then decided to take a drive around the city and get away from the crowd at the fairgrounds.
Marilyn, such a beautiful name she had, Marilyn found her brother who was over 21 and he was coaxed by her into buying us an 8 pack of beer, which we took out of town a ways and enjoyed, as well as our speed and our reefer. We buzzed so pleasantly together, and before we knew what was happening, we started kissing, slowly at first, then with more passion, and no long after that we managed to find ourselves in the backseat of that white '63 Chevy of mine, naked and doing things that neither one of us had ever done before that day. It was special, not just because of the lust that had been involved, but it had been the first time for each of us, so neither one of us really thought there would be anything to worry about, since both of us were virgins.
I remember getting back to the fairgrounds close to dark and dropping you off. We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, but I think both of us knew that day that it was probably going to just be a one time thing for us. I was only partially right in my thinking.
Six weeks passed, and while sitting home on a Sunday afternoon by myself, Marilyn called, her voice sounding strained, and I asked her what was wrong. She told me that she was late for her period, but she had been late before, and she thought I should know. Here I was, one month into my senior year in high school, as was Marilyn, and I was facing a fear I wasn't prepared for. I knew that if she was pregnant, there weren't many feasible choices. It was, you see, 1969, and back in 1969 a high school girl becoming pregnant usually meant both parents quitting high school and getting married. Even though I had no intention of attending college, I didn't want to have to quit high school when I was close to being a graduate.
I tried not to let this worry me, but Marilyn lived over 50 miles away and I just couldn't pick up a phone and call her without arousing suspicion with her folks, so we agreed that when she learned something she'd call me on a Sunday afternoon, because on most Sunday's my folks were gone for the afternoon.
The call came in early to mid October. Marilyn had an aunt who lived out in one of the far western states and this aunt was an RN. She knew someone in Indianapolis who worked for a doctor, and because Marilyn was over 18 years old, she was able to get into to see the doctor and have the tests to confirm that she was indeed pregnant.
I saw my future right there in front of me, knowing that it was going to be changing from what I had originally planned. I tried to envision telling my parents, breaking both of their hearts, and I just couldn't bring myself to grips to what had happened in the course of a few hours just a couple of months earlier in the backseat of a car. This was when Marilyn laid out the bombshell I wasn't prepared for.
She told me first off, she wasn't giving the baby up for adoption, It was a part of both of us, and even though we neither one were prepared to be responsible parents, she felt that one of us was going to have to be bold enough and make some changes in order to take care of this tiny, yet unborn life.
Marilyn was leaving Indianapolis. She was moving out west to live with her aunt and try and find work so she could be a Mommy the following March. She was going to take night classes so she could get her high school diploma, and she didn't want me to have to tell anyone what had happened. She told me that all that would do would be bring hurt upon too many people, bring two people together into a marriage that was doomed from the start and would probably put a little child's emotions at risk because of the tensions that would exist between its young parents who really didn't want to be married to each other.
I couldn't believe that she was willing to make such sacrifices, but she said she had thought long and hard about it, and after speaking with her aunt and her parents, they decided it was the only course of action to take. To my knowledge she never told her parents who the father of the child was or where he came from. She would let me give her no money, she wouldn't even give me a telephone number where I could reach her once she moved.
I talked to her twice before she made her move out west, and one time right before Christmas I called her house to see how she was doing and her Mother answered the phone and told me that Marilyn had moved a couple of weeks before I had called. She didn't ask who I was, but I think she knew, because she told me that Marilyn didn't want anyone to know how to get hold of her. I asked her Mom if she was okay, and she told me that she would be okay and that her life had started over. She never read me out, questioned me or gave me any more information than that. She did ask me to keep Marilyn in my prayers, though, and I have ever since that only time I ever spoke with her mom.
One day, the following spring, about a month before I graduated, I received a long distance call from Marilyn. She told me that I had become the physical father of beautiful little girl, a little girl who bore the feminine version of my name and Marilyn's last name. I asked her if she was happy and getting along, and she said yes to both questions. I asked her if I would ever get a chance to see my little girl, and she told me, no, probably not, because that would only cause problems and she wanted the best for "our" little girl, and best meant that I should never be a part of her life. I was responsible for giving her life, but I would not be responsible for her continuation of life.
Marilyn told me she held no grudge, that it was a mistake we both had made together, and she told me she made the decision to raise our daughter on her own, as best she could. I offered to start sending support money to her after I graduated high school and found a job, but she told me the best support I could give her was to pray for her and give her the distance she needed and not to try and contact her, ever. She also told me that the on the afternoon we spent together for just those few short hours she had fallen in love with me and would never do anything to louse up my life, because as much as she cared, she knew that by trying to be a responsible husband and wife with a little child would probably kill us both. Before she hung up she told me she still loved me and she hoped I understood the decisions she had made. She said she knew it wasn't fair to keep me out of the decision making process, but she was doing it because of the love she had for me and our little girl. I asked her when I'd hear from her again and she told me whenever she felt the time was right.
A year passed, then a year and a half, and by this time I had married and had a son of my own. I was working in retail, assistant manager of the store, and the phone rang one afternoon at the store and it was Marilyn. She told me she had to do some calling around, but she found out my home phone number, found out where I worked and called me there to let me know how things were going for her and to tell me she was visiting her family here for a few days. Naturally I asked her if I could see her and our little girl, and although hesitant at first, she told me she'd figure out a time to meet and call me back so I could finally see our little girl.
That call never came.
The year that call came was 1974 and it was the last one. I never heard from Marilyn again nor have any idea whatever became of her and our daughter.
Over the years I've often wondered what became of them, what became of her parents. I tried to contact her folks, and the phone number I still had that she had given me that day in August of 1969 was now the number of a different family, and they had never heard of Marilyn or of her family.
I've wondered over the years if Marilyn ever married, had other children or what career her life had gone. I knew that in 1974 during our last phone conversation she told me she still wasn't seeing anyone and that she had herself become involved in the medical profession and was studying to become, like her life saving aunt, an RN.
I've wondered about the little girl I helped father and give life to, and have wondered what direction her life has gone, whether she has children of her own, where she lives or for that matter if she's still alive. I have no answers to any of these questions, all I have are unanswered questions.
Chances are escaping me each and everyday that I'll ever know. If my "daughter" is still living, she's going to turn 36 years old this year. Chances are she has a great father who adopted her, gave her his name and raised her and gave her everything I was unable to give her. She's probably given her father and her mother grandchildren, and chances could be that she has kids the same age her Mom and I were when we met that day back in '69.
A part of me is out there somewhere that I'll probably never know or ever have the pleasure of knowing anything about. This was my punishment for not being responsible enough with my common sense at an age when common sense is challenged all the time.
I take this opportunity to "thank" Marilyn for all her unselfishness and the burden she carried for me and how she protected me from a mistake that we both shared in. I am sometimes so overcome with guilt, wondering if I could have tried maybe just a little bit harder in trying to find them. I only know that I did what she asked me to do at the time and have always wondered if it was the right thing. It was what she asked me to do, but I still ask myself many, many times over the years did I make the right decision by following Marilyn's wishes.
And Charlotte, if you're out there and you ever read these words and wonder if just maybe the guy that wrote them might be the guy your wonderful Mom Marilyn told you about, I'll leave that decision up to you.
I only know my life is incomplete without knowing whatever became of you.
And I hope you don't hate me for the choices I lived with and have cursed myself for over 30 years for having made.
God bless you, Honey....
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Inner Turmoil
On the outside
I appear happy and content,
While inside
A war wages within.
These past few weeks
As I've sat and recovered,
My mind has been busy,
Working overtime to come to grips
With aspects of my life
I have no control over.
I seek for solace, compassion
Yet I find only turmoil
And unanswered questions.
I pray for strength,
Yet I feel so weak and out of
Control.
My mind resolves itself
To finding solutions,
My hands come up empty,
My emotions spent.
I care so deeply
Despite trying to turn my heart
Cold and disinterested.
Time is no longer an ally,
But an enemy
As each day that passes is one more
I cannot regain.
I have no more answers now
Than I did a month ago,
And more questions now
Than I did back then.
And the clock keeps ticking....
I appear happy and content,
While inside
A war wages within.
These past few weeks
As I've sat and recovered,
My mind has been busy,
Working overtime to come to grips
With aspects of my life
I have no control over.
I seek for solace, compassion
Yet I find only turmoil
And unanswered questions.
I pray for strength,
Yet I feel so weak and out of
Control.
My mind resolves itself
To finding solutions,
My hands come up empty,
My emotions spent.
I care so deeply
Despite trying to turn my heart
Cold and disinterested.
Time is no longer an ally,
But an enemy
As each day that passes is one more
I cannot regain.
I have no more answers now
Than I did a month ago,
And more questions now
Than I did back then.
And the clock keeps ticking....
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Unwelcome Guest
Like an invading army,
It enters the mind, finds the heart
And seeks refuge, convuluting
Itself and leaving behind its
Residue,
Causing worry and anguish
To fester
And bear fruit.
It refuses to be cast out,
Moreover it buries itself
Deeper and deeper
And hides amongst all
Emotions,
Creating a web, spiralling out of
Control,
Robbing one of their courage and common sense.
Fear...
It enters the mind, finds the heart
And seeks refuge, convuluting
Itself and leaving behind its
Residue,
Causing worry and anguish
To fester
And bear fruit.
It refuses to be cast out,
Moreover it buries itself
Deeper and deeper
And hides amongst all
Emotions,
Creating a web, spiralling out of
Control,
Robbing one of their courage and common sense.
Fear...
Friday, December 23, 2005
My Two Cents Worth
As rough as this is at the moment being able to only barely use my right hand, I have to lay out my opinion on something that is eating me alive. Even though I'm not ready to begin regular postings again, I'm going to do this special one simply because I feel I have to.
There is so much cain being raised this year over the political correctness of how to wish one a Merry Christmas. Firstly, I'm probably the most politcally incorrect individual you'll ever meet, so if my rantings here bother you, big deal, I don't care if I did upset you because if what I have to say upsets you, things will be a lot worse on you later on down the road.
Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ and the bearing of gifts presented to Him upon his birth. Therefore, it is a holiday bearing His name and no one elses. It's a holiday that is celebrated around the entire world, which should clue you in as to why the holiday is celebrated to begin with.
Even though the holiday has been mutated over the years and become so miserably commercialized, it's still a holy holiday, and if you can't accept that, then don't celebrate it. If you don't believe in the birth of Jesus, then don't celebrate His birth. Let the day be just one of many others each year, but don't try and deny those who celebrate Jesus' birthday the right to do so.
Our nation has become so preoccupied with trying not to offend the minorities, the majority of us no longer stand much of a chance for anything. Our nation is slowly becoming a nation that the minorities want to become a "godless" nation.
We don't try and change the celebrations of other holy holidays around the world for other religions, but the self-righteous liberals who try and take everything out of context and to the extreme are doing their damndest to take the true meaning of December 25th away from us.
Even though we don't know the exact date of Jesus birth, we have set aside this one day a year to celebrate his birth, thus the beginning of Christianity as we know it. To take Christ out of Christmas is ludicrous, yet the minorities are trying to do just that. It's time the majority put their collective feet down and put an end to this nonsense.
I work in the public, and every year at this time when my customers leave my workstation, I wish them a Merry Christmas and probably 99 1/2 % of them do the same to me. If I wish someone happy holidays, it's meant as a shortened Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
However, we aren't allowed to see manger scenes on government land anymore, businesses have told their employees to change their greetings to customers to NOT reflect the name of Jesus! Funny how people seem to think this makes anything more correct!
I will continue to wish my customers a Merry Christmas for as long as I work my job because that is, after all, what we are all celebrating. If that offends anyone, GOOD! If it let's someone remember just exactly what Christmas is all about, then those two words did their job as it was intended.
Whether or not one chooses to believe in the holy birth of Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God, is entirely up to them. If they choose not to believe in it, then don't celebrate his birth and leave that for those of us who do believe. Think of the money and stress you'll save yourself.
Forget about the civil liberties of a few and let the joyous celebration of Christ's birth continue to be celebrated year after year until the day of judgement.
To all of you, believers and non-believers alike, I take this opportunity to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and hope that you remember just exactly is being celebrated on December 25th each year.
Thanks for reading and God Bless you all...
There is so much cain being raised this year over the political correctness of how to wish one a Merry Christmas. Firstly, I'm probably the most politcally incorrect individual you'll ever meet, so if my rantings here bother you, big deal, I don't care if I did upset you because if what I have to say upsets you, things will be a lot worse on you later on down the road.
Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ and the bearing of gifts presented to Him upon his birth. Therefore, it is a holiday bearing His name and no one elses. It's a holiday that is celebrated around the entire world, which should clue you in as to why the holiday is celebrated to begin with.
Even though the holiday has been mutated over the years and become so miserably commercialized, it's still a holy holiday, and if you can't accept that, then don't celebrate it. If you don't believe in the birth of Jesus, then don't celebrate His birth. Let the day be just one of many others each year, but don't try and deny those who celebrate Jesus' birthday the right to do so.
Our nation has become so preoccupied with trying not to offend the minorities, the majority of us no longer stand much of a chance for anything. Our nation is slowly becoming a nation that the minorities want to become a "godless" nation.
We don't try and change the celebrations of other holy holidays around the world for other religions, but the self-righteous liberals who try and take everything out of context and to the extreme are doing their damndest to take the true meaning of December 25th away from us.
Even though we don't know the exact date of Jesus birth, we have set aside this one day a year to celebrate his birth, thus the beginning of Christianity as we know it. To take Christ out of Christmas is ludicrous, yet the minorities are trying to do just that. It's time the majority put their collective feet down and put an end to this nonsense.
I work in the public, and every year at this time when my customers leave my workstation, I wish them a Merry Christmas and probably 99 1/2 % of them do the same to me. If I wish someone happy holidays, it's meant as a shortened Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
However, we aren't allowed to see manger scenes on government land anymore, businesses have told their employees to change their greetings to customers to NOT reflect the name of Jesus! Funny how people seem to think this makes anything more correct!
I will continue to wish my customers a Merry Christmas for as long as I work my job because that is, after all, what we are all celebrating. If that offends anyone, GOOD! If it let's someone remember just exactly what Christmas is all about, then those two words did their job as it was intended.
Whether or not one chooses to believe in the holy birth of Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God, is entirely up to them. If they choose not to believe in it, then don't celebrate his birth and leave that for those of us who do believe. Think of the money and stress you'll save yourself.
Forget about the civil liberties of a few and let the joyous celebration of Christ's birth continue to be celebrated year after year until the day of judgement.
To all of you, believers and non-believers alike, I take this opportunity to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and hope that you remember just exactly is being celebrated on December 25th each year.
Thanks for reading and God Bless you all...
Sunday, December 18, 2005
one handed musings
as i sit here this sunday morning, my right hand wrapped in a large ace bandage, i'm trying to psych myself up for this afternoon's unveiling of my recently operation wound. my surgery went well, and after about 14 hours of medically induced numbness following surgery three days ago, i came to the realization on friday morning that my carpal tunnel pain had indeed vanished like a miracle. when this happened and i realized that for the first time in months that i wasn't in pain, tears welled up in my eyes and i gave thanks to the good lord for the success of the surgery, and i quickly found my wife and shared the good news with her.
i sit here at my keyboard typing with only my left hand, but at least i'm able to do that. i can't type upper case or capital letters, but at least i'm able to type.
tomorrow morning, monday december 19th, i attend my first physical therapy session, which is not something i'm looking forward to. four days after christmas i get my stitches out, and the following day, december 3oth, i have the same procedure done on my left hand. again, not something i'm looking forward to, but the end result if all goes as well as this first surgery has gone will make it all worth the pain and discomfort.
having this second surgery this soon is going to hamper me in a lot of ways, but it gets it done in the same calendar year which will save me lots of money since i've already met my deductible for this year. my mobility will be very limited, but again, the discomfort, pain and inconvenience will be worth it in the long run.
so, i leave you again for a short while, but rest assured, i'm coming back soon with more to write and more to share with you.
to ems, mea and shelle, thanks for your continued support and loyalty. without you three this venture would not be the same. ems, get busy and do more writing. mea, keep on with your entries and continue to amaze me with the work that you do on your site. and shelle, thanks for your friendship and get the fever and start a blog page of your own. you certainly have the talent for it.
and let me close with one more thing, which is, go colts....
peace.
i sit here at my keyboard typing with only my left hand, but at least i'm able to do that. i can't type upper case or capital letters, but at least i'm able to type.
tomorrow morning, monday december 19th, i attend my first physical therapy session, which is not something i'm looking forward to. four days after christmas i get my stitches out, and the following day, december 3oth, i have the same procedure done on my left hand. again, not something i'm looking forward to, but the end result if all goes as well as this first surgery has gone will make it all worth the pain and discomfort.
having this second surgery this soon is going to hamper me in a lot of ways, but it gets it done in the same calendar year which will save me lots of money since i've already met my deductible for this year. my mobility will be very limited, but again, the discomfort, pain and inconvenience will be worth it in the long run.
so, i leave you again for a short while, but rest assured, i'm coming back soon with more to write and more to share with you.
to ems, mea and shelle, thanks for your continued support and loyalty. without you three this venture would not be the same. ems, get busy and do more writing. mea, keep on with your entries and continue to amaze me with the work that you do on your site. and shelle, thanks for your friendship and get the fever and start a blog page of your own. you certainly have the talent for it.
and let me close with one more thing, which is, go colts....
peace.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
A Brief Hiatus
To my faithful few, I'm going into my busiest week of the year, and it's shortened this year by the surgery I'm having this coming Thursday. Since the surgery involves my hand and wrist, I don't know exactly when I'll be back online to add to my site. Be assured, I'm coming back, I've just been busy this past week with holidays and preparations, and of course with my work. Hopefully the recovery will be quick and complete, and if you get a chance, any thoughts, blessings or prayers would be welcomed.
I thank all of you for your continued reading and support, and hopefully it won't be too long before I'm back at it again.
Hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and the happiest of New Year's, and I hope you hear back from me before the end of this year.
Peace and God bless.
I thank all of you for your continued reading and support, and hopefully it won't be too long before I'm back at it again.
Hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and the happiest of New Year's, and I hope you hear back from me before the end of this year.
Peace and God bless.
Monday, December 05, 2005
What Is Happening To Me?
For those of you who don't know me, one of the most painful periods of my life was when my wonderful Mother lived the last few years of here life with Alzheimer's Disease. We hear people joke about this dreaded disease and make light of it, but for someone who has had to watch a loved one go thru it's debilitating process and have to suffer watching the pain and agony that goes along with it, it's nothing to joke or make light of. Mom passed away four and a half years ago, and it's in her memory that I am writing the following. This is not a reflection of her life or her own bout with the disease, but it is an overview of a typical lifestyle of someone who is afflicted with Alzheimer's. I write the following piece in loving memory of my mother, who I am sure would agree with me, there are some things worse than dying. Alzheimer's is one of them.
What Is Happening To Me?
I'm keeping my curtains shut now, not so much because I don't like the sun coming in anymore or that I'm trying to hide from the window peeper I know comes around each week. I keep them closed because I don't want to have get dressed and clean up each and everyday just in case company arrives. With the windows and drapes closed, I can look out the window, and if it's one of my good friends, I can always let them in. If it's one of my kids, they can let themselves in because they have a key.
I spend a lot of time lying in my bedroom now with the tv on, although most of the time I have the tv on for the noise it makes, because I seem to have trouble figuring out what is going on with the programs. They don't seem to make sense to me anymore, and everytime I try and change the channels with my remote, I can't seem to get the remote to work right anymore, the darned thing. It used to work fine, but I can't seem to remember which buttons I need to push to get the tv to even go where I want it to go. Sometimes the volume goes up when I'm trying to change channels, and sometimes the channels change when I'm trying to turn the tv up or down. I think I need a new remote because this one just doesn't work right.
I still take the two newspapers I've always taken, the local one because I can actually make some sense out of it, and the one from the state capitol I take because we always have taken it. I can look at the tv paper in it and find programs I like to watch, but I don't get much of a chance to watch them because I can't figure out the remote control. Have I told you about that remote control of mine?
My phone rings a lot, and it's always these nice people one the other end talking to me and telling me they want to send me things or have me join things, and when I tell them I better not, they tell me they already have my address and I have an account in good standing, even though I'm not sure what they mean by that. And don't you know, those nice people do keep sending me these nice gifts in the mail, books and magazines mostly, and I can't ever remember getting as many magazines as I'm getting now, but they surely must like an old lady like myself that takes the time to talk to them because they keep sending them to me. I don't really get a chance to read much of them, it interferes with my tv time and my newspapers that I like to read, and some of the words don't look like English to me. I can't understand a lot of what I'm trying to read, so I just lay them aside and I intend on throwing them out in the trash someday soon...my bed is getting kind of messy with all these papers and magazines lying about.
It seems like so many of my friends have either passed on or they don't come around anymore. I used to go with them each day for coffee and breakfast, but they got to talking about things I didn't seem to have any interest in, so I quit going. I have my coffee here at home in the morning, and for some reason, it seems my kitchen appliances don't work like they used to because I have a hard time cooking my meals or using my microwave. There's this nice restaurant just a few blocks away that delivers, and bless them, they call me each morning to see what I'd like to have for breakfast and then they check later in the afternoon and they take my order for supper. They ring the bell and come on back to my bedroom with my food, and I pay them and always give them a tip for being so nice. I never can eat all they bring, so I put it in the refridgerator with the intention of having it later, but since I can't work that microwave anymore, the food just kind of stacks up in there. When then trashmen come on Tuesdays, if I don't forget, I usually fill up a couple of bags with the uneaten food in it. Since I don't walk real well anymore, I just put it outside my garage door and they make the walk up from the street and take it for me. And because they're so nice, I always give them a nice tip at Christmas time for helping me out that way.
Some of the people that come see me tell me they were sons or daughters of old friends of mine that I haven't seen in years. They come in and spend time and talk to an old woman like me and they let me tell them stories that so many others don't want to hear, and after a while they get to telling me about their lives, and how they're struggling to make ends meet. I always thank God that I have a home that's paid for and while I don't have a lot of money, I can't help but give these people a little bit of cash or write them a check to help them out. They always seem grateful and they come back again a month or two later, it seems, and we do the same thing again.
I told you about people calling me, but when I try and call my friends and my family, I keep getting wrong numbers. Some of the people are so nice and they tell me that either I have the wrong number, which I know I don't, or they tell me that the person I'm calling died several years ago. I try and act surprised when they tell me that, but I know they're lying to me because I saw some of these people not long ago, or at least I don't think it was very long ago.
What I don't want my kids to know, I'm really having trouble getting around now, and a couple of times I've taken a fall. I've always worried about falling and breaking a hip, but so far, my falls haven't been all that bad.
six months later:
I don't like this place I'm staying at. It's not that it isn't nice and kept real clean, and they try and make some really nice meals, but I don't understand why I'm having to stay here. I remember falling at home early one morning, and I remember sitting in my chair for hours before someone from the restaurant called and when I didn't get to the phone, they called my kids and they drove over and found me in this chair, and I couldn't get up and walk, so they took me to the hospital, and after going to a place called a nursing home and them having me exercise, I got to where I could walk with this darned walker. After I got to walking again, my son took me to this place he called assisted living, but I really think I'm staying in a motel in Madison now and I can't understand why my husband hasn't come to pick me up or at least stay with me.
I've tried calling him at home and I keep getting my son instead. My son, he's such a joker with me, always has been, but when I tell him I'm trying to get ahold of his dad and find out why he's mad at me and won't come and pick me up at this motel, he tells me my husband died almost twenty-one years ago, and I don't think that's funny. He's so insistent about it, and then he gets mad at me, I guess cause I don't go along with the joke, but he tells me I'm not in a hotel in Madison that I'm still in Rushville in something called assisted living. It's funny, too, this furniture in this two room hotel suite looks like my furniture from home, and the bed not only looks like my bed, it feels just like my bed, so I don't have much trouble sleeping at night, at least the nights that white cat doesn't come in and climb in the bed with me and sleeps with me until morning. Then, when the nice lady comes in to get me up and tells me I need to get ready for breakfast in the dining room, the cat is always gone.
I tell this nice lady, and there's another one two, although I don't ever see them both the same day, I tell her I really don't want to go down to the dining room for breakfast, because I don't like sitting down there with all these old people. Some of them are nice, but there's this one old man down there that flirts with me, and if my husband ever found out, then I know he'd never come and take me home, because he would be so jealous.
I can usually eat breakfast at my own kitchen table, the lady brings me in a nice home cooked breakfast and coffee, but I don't eat much of it, because sometimes it looks like there's bugs in the food and roaches in the coffee. They bring me a drink that tastes like milkshake, and as long as I drink it quick, nothing ever seems to be in it. And these nice ladies help me take my medicines each day, which is something I had quit doing when I was still at home. I quit going to the doctor because I never got to feeling better so I just quit taking his medicine he was giving me to, even the drops the eye doctor told me I had to put in my eyes because of something called glaucoma. Well, these nice people give me all these pills and they put the drops in my eyes, but I think something has happened to my left eye, because I can't see anything out of it anymore. I guess that means I've gone blind in one eye and I sure hope it wasn't that medicine that did it because now that they're giving it to me, I'm so afraid I might go blind in my other eye, too.
My kids come and see me almost everyday, and I can't figure out how they can afford the drive down here each day. My son comes to see me in the morning before he goes to work and my daughter comes up after she gets off work. Those kids are driving a lot of miles to see me but they won't take me home where I need to be. They keep telling me I am home, but I know better. One of these days my husband will quit being mad at me and he'll come and pick me up and take me home with him. I just wish he would hurry up and I so wish he'd call me, I miss him so much.
I tried to call my mom the other night. This nice voice came on an answering machine and it was one of my daughters friends. She called me back last night and told me that my mom had died almost 40 years ago, and since she was a friend of my daughter's, well, I just let her go ahead and tell me her lie and I quit trying to call Mom, because I know one day soon she's coming with my husband to see me here.
I got all dressed up last Saturday night, because my brother was supposed to come up and have supper with me. One of the ladies told me he wasn't going to be able to make it, but I sat in the nice recreation area next to the dining room and waited for him, because I just knew he'd make it. After he didn't make it, I thought maybe he might have gone to the wrong hotel room, so I went looking for him. I found a man in his room that wasn't my brother, and he let me in to call 911. After the police got here and I told them what was going on, someone who runs this hotel that I hadn't seen before butted her nose in and told them that I was having memory problems and that my records showed that my brothers were all dead. She wasn't very nice to me, but the policemen were and walked me back to my suite and told me just to go ahead and get ready for bed and maybe he'd come and see me some other time soon, he had probably just forgotten.
Then there are times, and there aren't many of them, but there I times I swear, I think maybe I really am in Rushville in a place called assisted living, and I once in a while almost believe my kids when they tell me my husband is dead as are my brothers. But just about the time I start to actually believe maybe some of this is true, then I realize that if any of that had really happened, I'd remember it.
And I don't remember any of that happening. And those thoughts I have, why, they're probably dreams I'm having. Dreams can seem so real sometime.
And things could be worse, I could be sick and I could be losing my mind, but I'm not. And I'm staying in a really nice hotel with such nice people looking after me and making me wonderful meals. But I so wish my husband would come visit me.
I want to go home where I'm safe.
What Is Happening To Me?
I'm keeping my curtains shut now, not so much because I don't like the sun coming in anymore or that I'm trying to hide from the window peeper I know comes around each week. I keep them closed because I don't want to have get dressed and clean up each and everyday just in case company arrives. With the windows and drapes closed, I can look out the window, and if it's one of my good friends, I can always let them in. If it's one of my kids, they can let themselves in because they have a key.
I spend a lot of time lying in my bedroom now with the tv on, although most of the time I have the tv on for the noise it makes, because I seem to have trouble figuring out what is going on with the programs. They don't seem to make sense to me anymore, and everytime I try and change the channels with my remote, I can't seem to get the remote to work right anymore, the darned thing. It used to work fine, but I can't seem to remember which buttons I need to push to get the tv to even go where I want it to go. Sometimes the volume goes up when I'm trying to change channels, and sometimes the channels change when I'm trying to turn the tv up or down. I think I need a new remote because this one just doesn't work right.
I still take the two newspapers I've always taken, the local one because I can actually make some sense out of it, and the one from the state capitol I take because we always have taken it. I can look at the tv paper in it and find programs I like to watch, but I don't get much of a chance to watch them because I can't figure out the remote control. Have I told you about that remote control of mine?
My phone rings a lot, and it's always these nice people one the other end talking to me and telling me they want to send me things or have me join things, and when I tell them I better not, they tell me they already have my address and I have an account in good standing, even though I'm not sure what they mean by that. And don't you know, those nice people do keep sending me these nice gifts in the mail, books and magazines mostly, and I can't ever remember getting as many magazines as I'm getting now, but they surely must like an old lady like myself that takes the time to talk to them because they keep sending them to me. I don't really get a chance to read much of them, it interferes with my tv time and my newspapers that I like to read, and some of the words don't look like English to me. I can't understand a lot of what I'm trying to read, so I just lay them aside and I intend on throwing them out in the trash someday soon...my bed is getting kind of messy with all these papers and magazines lying about.
It seems like so many of my friends have either passed on or they don't come around anymore. I used to go with them each day for coffee and breakfast, but they got to talking about things I didn't seem to have any interest in, so I quit going. I have my coffee here at home in the morning, and for some reason, it seems my kitchen appliances don't work like they used to because I have a hard time cooking my meals or using my microwave. There's this nice restaurant just a few blocks away that delivers, and bless them, they call me each morning to see what I'd like to have for breakfast and then they check later in the afternoon and they take my order for supper. They ring the bell and come on back to my bedroom with my food, and I pay them and always give them a tip for being so nice. I never can eat all they bring, so I put it in the refridgerator with the intention of having it later, but since I can't work that microwave anymore, the food just kind of stacks up in there. When then trashmen come on Tuesdays, if I don't forget, I usually fill up a couple of bags with the uneaten food in it. Since I don't walk real well anymore, I just put it outside my garage door and they make the walk up from the street and take it for me. And because they're so nice, I always give them a nice tip at Christmas time for helping me out that way.
Some of the people that come see me tell me they were sons or daughters of old friends of mine that I haven't seen in years. They come in and spend time and talk to an old woman like me and they let me tell them stories that so many others don't want to hear, and after a while they get to telling me about their lives, and how they're struggling to make ends meet. I always thank God that I have a home that's paid for and while I don't have a lot of money, I can't help but give these people a little bit of cash or write them a check to help them out. They always seem grateful and they come back again a month or two later, it seems, and we do the same thing again.
I told you about people calling me, but when I try and call my friends and my family, I keep getting wrong numbers. Some of the people are so nice and they tell me that either I have the wrong number, which I know I don't, or they tell me that the person I'm calling died several years ago. I try and act surprised when they tell me that, but I know they're lying to me because I saw some of these people not long ago, or at least I don't think it was very long ago.
What I don't want my kids to know, I'm really having trouble getting around now, and a couple of times I've taken a fall. I've always worried about falling and breaking a hip, but so far, my falls haven't been all that bad.
six months later:
I don't like this place I'm staying at. It's not that it isn't nice and kept real clean, and they try and make some really nice meals, but I don't understand why I'm having to stay here. I remember falling at home early one morning, and I remember sitting in my chair for hours before someone from the restaurant called and when I didn't get to the phone, they called my kids and they drove over and found me in this chair, and I couldn't get up and walk, so they took me to the hospital, and after going to a place called a nursing home and them having me exercise, I got to where I could walk with this darned walker. After I got to walking again, my son took me to this place he called assisted living, but I really think I'm staying in a motel in Madison now and I can't understand why my husband hasn't come to pick me up or at least stay with me.
I've tried calling him at home and I keep getting my son instead. My son, he's such a joker with me, always has been, but when I tell him I'm trying to get ahold of his dad and find out why he's mad at me and won't come and pick me up at this motel, he tells me my husband died almost twenty-one years ago, and I don't think that's funny. He's so insistent about it, and then he gets mad at me, I guess cause I don't go along with the joke, but he tells me I'm not in a hotel in Madison that I'm still in Rushville in something called assisted living. It's funny, too, this furniture in this two room hotel suite looks like my furniture from home, and the bed not only looks like my bed, it feels just like my bed, so I don't have much trouble sleeping at night, at least the nights that white cat doesn't come in and climb in the bed with me and sleeps with me until morning. Then, when the nice lady comes in to get me up and tells me I need to get ready for breakfast in the dining room, the cat is always gone.
I tell this nice lady, and there's another one two, although I don't ever see them both the same day, I tell her I really don't want to go down to the dining room for breakfast, because I don't like sitting down there with all these old people. Some of them are nice, but there's this one old man down there that flirts with me, and if my husband ever found out, then I know he'd never come and take me home, because he would be so jealous.
I can usually eat breakfast at my own kitchen table, the lady brings me in a nice home cooked breakfast and coffee, but I don't eat much of it, because sometimes it looks like there's bugs in the food and roaches in the coffee. They bring me a drink that tastes like milkshake, and as long as I drink it quick, nothing ever seems to be in it. And these nice ladies help me take my medicines each day, which is something I had quit doing when I was still at home. I quit going to the doctor because I never got to feeling better so I just quit taking his medicine he was giving me to, even the drops the eye doctor told me I had to put in my eyes because of something called glaucoma. Well, these nice people give me all these pills and they put the drops in my eyes, but I think something has happened to my left eye, because I can't see anything out of it anymore. I guess that means I've gone blind in one eye and I sure hope it wasn't that medicine that did it because now that they're giving it to me, I'm so afraid I might go blind in my other eye, too.
My kids come and see me almost everyday, and I can't figure out how they can afford the drive down here each day. My son comes to see me in the morning before he goes to work and my daughter comes up after she gets off work. Those kids are driving a lot of miles to see me but they won't take me home where I need to be. They keep telling me I am home, but I know better. One of these days my husband will quit being mad at me and he'll come and pick me up and take me home with him. I just wish he would hurry up and I so wish he'd call me, I miss him so much.
I tried to call my mom the other night. This nice voice came on an answering machine and it was one of my daughters friends. She called me back last night and told me that my mom had died almost 40 years ago, and since she was a friend of my daughter's, well, I just let her go ahead and tell me her lie and I quit trying to call Mom, because I know one day soon she's coming with my husband to see me here.
I got all dressed up last Saturday night, because my brother was supposed to come up and have supper with me. One of the ladies told me he wasn't going to be able to make it, but I sat in the nice recreation area next to the dining room and waited for him, because I just knew he'd make it. After he didn't make it, I thought maybe he might have gone to the wrong hotel room, so I went looking for him. I found a man in his room that wasn't my brother, and he let me in to call 911. After the police got here and I told them what was going on, someone who runs this hotel that I hadn't seen before butted her nose in and told them that I was having memory problems and that my records showed that my brothers were all dead. She wasn't very nice to me, but the policemen were and walked me back to my suite and told me just to go ahead and get ready for bed and maybe he'd come and see me some other time soon, he had probably just forgotten.
Then there are times, and there aren't many of them, but there I times I swear, I think maybe I really am in Rushville in a place called assisted living, and I once in a while almost believe my kids when they tell me my husband is dead as are my brothers. But just about the time I start to actually believe maybe some of this is true, then I realize that if any of that had really happened, I'd remember it.
And I don't remember any of that happening. And those thoughts I have, why, they're probably dreams I'm having. Dreams can seem so real sometime.
And things could be worse, I could be sick and I could be losing my mind, but I'm not. And I'm staying in a really nice hotel with such nice people looking after me and making me wonderful meals. But I so wish my husband would come visit me.
I want to go home where I'm safe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)