Ancient
Unpublished?
It is now.
Happy that I am so much happier.
God kept His word and provided for me. Again. As always.
Hi.
Hope you are well.
Some people are, you know. You could be too.
Just as soon as...
***
Reversion to the Unmean
So disappointed in myself for getting so far from who I want to be.
Hope I bottomed out. Time will tell.
Got so tired of trying. Got so tired of failing. Got so tired of caring.
Got so tired of waiting for God to pick me up, brush me off, hug me and make life perfect.
Yes, I know that's it's typical for a person going through a stressful time to wax/wane through Shock, Denial, Bargaining and Anger before coming to Resolution/Acceptance.
Doesn't mean it's easy.
**
Been out of work almost 10 weeks.
Even when you expect to be fired, it's still a Shock. Was to me anyway.
Never struggled with Denial. Hard to deny being unemployed when you have no job to do.
Think I dealt with Bargaining by letting friends know I was out of work. Did what I could to spread the word that my successful pals had the slendid opportunity to hire another one of their many unemployed acquaintances.
But when it came to Anger, I was spectacular. I can do anger.
Can't fix much stuff around the house.
Hate gardening.
Not bad with kids.
Snarky at times, but a gentleman with the ladies.
Pretty good on The Bike.
Not bad as an editor.
Enjoy writing.
Love travel.
But expressing anger in the past couple of weeks? Award-winning performances.
Honked at just about everybody. Literally and virturally.
Random, floating anger bombs scored direct hits on a couple of friends and many people in traffic.
"It's good to let out your anger!"
Yeah, but it's better to control your emotions and not let them control you.
**
I boast about being a child of God. A God who can do anything.
Except control His out-of-control children at times.
Until He decides enough is enough.
"For whom the Lord loves He disciplines, even as a father, the son in whom he delights," (Proverbs 3:12).
An angry life is an ugly life.
Especially when you believe I/you/we have the right to inflict y/our wrath upon others. We don't have that right.
Nor do we have the right to demand forgiveness when we fail.
***
Thank God that episode is over.
At least until next time.
***
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Been a Long Time
Hi.
Hope you are well.
I was surprised to see that I haven't blogged at all in 2013.
Sorry. Guess I didn't need you.
Shouldn't have dumped you when things got better.
The way we all seem to do with God, huh?
***
Lunch with Don
Had lunch with one of my oldest friends -- twice -- in the past week.
Yes, I have known him since the early '90s. He is 64 years old, therefore, one of my oldest friends.
My, how things have changed over the years.
Don's wife was ill for more than a decade. Now, she's in heaven.
She's better off.
Don has a new wife who also loves him.
Life is totally different for him.
Don and I worked together for more than a decade.
A co-worker embezzled unknown thousands of dollars.
I was told Don "should have known."
Our superiors -- who also "should have known" -- fired him.
Don didn't know. The bandit fooled everyone -- including the auditors.
Don is now a highly valued employee at a new company where he earns twice what he used to make. Been there for eight years.
He's better off.
*
We drove by our old company yesterday.
Gone.
The company's two buildings -- once owned debt-free -- were sold and subdivided by new tenants. The only vestige of what was once a life-changing operation blessed by God was the little exit sign by the driveway with a crown painted on it.
Our old company once had 175 employees who earned "living" wages. Now, fewer than ten remain. They plan to relocate to another state.
Adios.
*
When I was fired, I was told to sign a five-page, pre-prepared, detailed legal contract forbidding me from working in my career field for a year and not sharing anything I knew about the company for five years.
Yes, I still have a copy.
I was told I would not receive any severance pay if I didn't sign the contract before I left the building that day. So, I signed it, under duress, and left. Once and for all.
After they offered to pray for me.
<shudders>
Only one of those who fired me remains employed there.
All their offices have been given to others.
Did God shut the place down because Don and I were fired?
Nope.
Did God leave the day I got fired? Or when Don got fired?
Nope.
But it wasn't long afterward, if you ask me.
**
Best Sermon Ever This Morning
Sermons are always easiest to enjoy when the preacher is talking to other people ... especially if they're sitting next to us, getting fried by The Truth they won't listen to from us.
I am thankful for the churches that preach the gospel, Sunday after Sunday. In many of them, however, once you're saved the heat is off and you can relax. You are exempt from all future sermons.
But when the messages end with a call to salvation -- instead of using that as a starting point to know and serve God -- it can breed complacency.
In my humble opinion.
*
So today, Pastor John used Ephesians 4 as his text:
31 Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. 32 Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
God spoke to me through His Word.
There are times I shock myself when I exhibit zero patience in traffic. Twice yesterday I blew the horn in Don's car at idiotic drivers.
I figured they would hunt him down, not me. I was safe.
Today God spoke to me about my temper -- the one I do not allow Him to control. Especially in traffic.
Like the time an idiot pulled out in front of me
leaving the parking lot of the church next to mine
and I blew the horn.
On the way home from church.
Today.
Lord, please be kind as you deal with my anger issues.
*
I would love to tell you about young men I know who treat their families with such contempt and dishonor that their actions are repulsive.
They dishonor God, themselves and their loved ones by their arrogant insolence.
As I did in my teen years.
If I wrote about them, I would compare their sinful actions to the perfection of God and how they are not even close to being like Jesus.
Would I compare them to myself at their age? Not so much.
*
Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
Asked her how much it would be.
That is why I have not gone to the doctor for my shoulder.
Hope you are well.
I was surprised to see that I haven't blogged at all in 2013.
Sorry. Guess I didn't need you.
Shouldn't have dumped you when things got better.
The way we all seem to do with God, huh?
***
Lunch with Don
Had lunch with one of my oldest friends -- twice -- in the past week.
Yes, I have known him since the early '90s. He is 64 years old, therefore, one of my oldest friends.
My, how things have changed over the years.
Don's wife was ill for more than a decade. Now, she's in heaven.
She's better off.
Don has a new wife who also loves him.
Life is totally different for him.
Don and I worked together for more than a decade.
A co-worker embezzled unknown thousands of dollars.
I was told Don "should have known."
Our superiors -- who also "should have known" -- fired him.
Don didn't know. The bandit fooled everyone -- including the auditors.
Don is now a highly valued employee at a new company where he earns twice what he used to make. Been there for eight years.
He's better off.
*
We drove by our old company yesterday.
Gone.
The company's two buildings -- once owned debt-free -- were sold and subdivided by new tenants. The only vestige of what was once a life-changing operation blessed by God was the little exit sign by the driveway with a crown painted on it.
Our old company once had 175 employees who earned "living" wages. Now, fewer than ten remain. They plan to relocate to another state.
Adios.
*
When I was fired, I was told to sign a five-page, pre-prepared, detailed legal contract forbidding me from working in my career field for a year and not sharing anything I knew about the company for five years.
Yes, I still have a copy.
I was told I would not receive any severance pay if I didn't sign the contract before I left the building that day. So, I signed it, under duress, and left. Once and for all.
After they offered to pray for me.
<shudders>
Only one of those who fired me remains employed there.
All their offices have been given to others.
Did God shut the place down because Don and I were fired?
Nope.
Did God leave the day I got fired? Or when Don got fired?
Nope.
But it wasn't long afterward, if you ask me.
**
Best Sermon Ever This Morning
Sermons are always easiest to enjoy when the preacher is talking to other people ... especially if they're sitting next to us, getting fried by The Truth they won't listen to from us.
I am thankful for the churches that preach the gospel, Sunday after Sunday. In many of them, however, once you're saved the heat is off and you can relax. You are exempt from all future sermons.
But when the messages end with a call to salvation -- instead of using that as a starting point to know and serve God -- it can breed complacency.
In my humble opinion.
*
So today, Pastor John used Ephesians 4 as his text:
31 Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. 32 Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
God spoke to me through His Word.
There are times I shock myself when I exhibit zero patience in traffic. Twice yesterday I blew the horn in Don's car at idiotic drivers.
I figured they would hunt him down, not me. I was safe.
Today God spoke to me about my temper -- the one I do not allow Him to control. Especially in traffic.
Like the time an idiot pulled out in front of me
leaving the parking lot of the church next to mine
and I blew the horn.
On the way home from church.
Today.
Lord, please be kind as you deal with my anger issues.
*
I would love to tell you about young men I know who treat their families with such contempt and dishonor that their actions are repulsive.
They dishonor God, themselves and their loved ones by their arrogant insolence.
As I did in my teen years.
If I wrote about them, I would compare their sinful actions to the perfection of God and how they are not even close to being like Jesus.
Would I compare them to myself at their age? Not so much.
*
Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
My conclusion?
I must spend more time and effort on my own walk and less time feeling superior to those whom I deem less godly.
Even when it's true.
**
I Believe the Bible, But Very Little that People Say About the Bible
As I wrote this blog, I was engaged on Facebook with a famous guy who has written 20 books and has credentials out the wazoo.
He wrote and defended this theorem:
God's primary goal isn't to use you for his purposes.
It's to enjoy your company.
I, with great joy and zeal, told him I believe that is drivel and perfectly incorrect.
The Bible says that we are alive to love, serve and honor God.
God is not a lonely grandfather hoping we'll visit him more often.
God wants to use us to reach a world that doesn't know Jesus.
Life in Christ is about serving others. We will have eternity to hang out with God to enjoy one another.
Life in Christ is about serving others. We will have eternity to hang out with God to enjoy one another.
**
Money and My Hunny Bunny
Y'know how old people say their love grows deeper over time?
True, that.
I love Suzannah more all the time.
Do we have the solution to the multi-state distance between us?
Nope.
Do we have solid clues to solve the puzzle?
Nope.
I think we've been together three times since I last blogged -- each time for a week or two. Last time was in June.
I came home to have a grandson.
Thank you very much.
She stayed there to have two new daughters-in-law.
Her boys, as we say in the South, "married up." Big time.
*
I can afford life here.
I cannot afford life there.
She has kids who cannot leave there.
I have kids and grandkids I don't want to leave here.
She has no house there.
I have a house here.
I cannot afford to buy or rent a house there.
Some would say "long-distance relationships are hopeless."
I say Suzannah instills hope into me every morning, afternoon and evening.
We begin our day with loving calls.
We share and pray our way through every day. We look forward to the next call as much as we have enjoyed the previous ones.
We share and pray our way through every day. We look forward to the next call as much as we have enjoyed the previous ones.
Do we fuss?
Sure.
Do we always agree?
Nope.
Do we know when or how we're going to work things out?
Nope.
But imagine having someone who loves you. Respects you.
Cares about your day. Prays for your kids.
Defends you. Sharpens you.
Misses you. Enjoys time with you.
Misses you. Enjoys time with you.
We share God's word several times a week. We close out each and every night with prayer and kind words.
"The desire of the righteous will be granted."
**
Stuff
Stuff
Co-hosted a radio call-in program last week on my local radio station.
Guy who hosts it thanks every caller.
"Hi. I am thinking of going downtown to shoot squirrels and break into cars because Obama was raised as a Muslim."
"Wow! Great call! Thanks!"
*
Guy called in.
His dog was freaking out in the background.
The caller was freaking out on the phone
Obama was raised a Muslim [insert crazoid dog barking sounds here] and Obama won't rest until every cute little puppy is slaughtered by Democrats and terrorists [insert crazoid dog barking here] who are the same people who kicked God out of schools [insert crazoid barking here].
Before the host could say,
"Wow! Great call! So glad you took the time to phone in today!"
I said, "That's so screwy, you're making your dog bark."
No word on being invited back.
I'll keep you posted.
**
Hurt my right shoulder a couple of weeks ago after returning home from a 750-mile trip on my motorcycle.
A few weeks earlier I tipped over (on my bike) on a gravel-covered parking lot. Went down on my right side ... with my arm out. Didn't hurt too bad at the time.
The day after my long ride I could hardly lift my arm. Stabbing pains.
Still hurts. Still weak. Still surviving.
Put the bike up for sale.
**
Put the bike up for sale.
**
Yes, I have health insurance. But it isn't much good.
For example, after I was a human buffet for bugs that injected me with some kind of allergic-reaction-inducing venom, I went to the doctor.
Nobody had a clue why my legs, side and butt looked like I had been attacked by a rabid octopus or two.
Went to a quick-fix "doctor's office" by my local Wally World.
Spoke to a man with a medical degree from a foreign land. Where, I do not know. He was obviously from a country where transportation is paid for with live chickens and/or goats.
If I understood correctly, he said
"Whad eeece theeeece? Whad beet choo? Where you get theeeece marks? I hahb never seeen sush marks! How many goats deed choo bring?"
I declined the $170 shot of whatever the heck he wanted to give me.
Accepted the prescription for three meds.
Went to pay the cashier.
She asked if I had insurance.
Told her I only had crummy coverage.
She asked if I wanted to use it. Told her I only had crummy coverage.
Asked her how much it would be.
$100 co-pay toward the $150 bill.
My insurance would pay $50.
My insurance would pay $50.
I asked how much I'd owe if I did NOT have insurance.
$90.
I know. You don't believe me, right?
That's OK.
If you said this, I would think you were lying too.
If you said this, I would think you were lying too.
But it's true.
My insurance is SO crummy
"How crummy is it?"
my bill went UP by $10 because I had insurance and
DOWN by $10 if I didn't use my insurance.
DOWN by $10 if I didn't use my insurance.
That is why I have not gone to the doctor for my shoulder.
**
I would love to tell you the tales of the irresponsible people I know.
But they're probably not more irresponsible than people you know.
So, take heart. You're not alone.
**
I am far less concerned that prayer/God was kicked out of public schools than I am about God being kicked out of churches.
Ditching the cross to get people -- who would rather do the Sunday crossword puzzle than hear about God and eternal life -- to come to church without offending them? Spare me.
God is offensive.
Being responsible for our sin is offensive.
Telling people that God doesn't endorse their every whim, goal, choice or sexual preference is offensive.
Telling people that God wants them to submit to His will and His ways is offensive -- and unnecessary when preachers tell them all God wants is to spend time with us.
Our sin separates us from God.
The wages of sin is death.
When we die, someone will be called on to pay the debt for our sins.
We will pay with our lives -- or Jesus will pay with His life -- for our sins.
That's why there was a cross.
That's why Jesus died on the cross.
Not for His sin -- He was sinless.
He died for our sin.
He took our penalty of death for our sins.
That's why the symbol of the cross is the crux of Christianity.
That's why the symbol of the cross is the crux of Christianity.
What can wash away our sins?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus on Calvary's cross.
Nothing but the blood of Jesus on Calvary's cross.
Who will die for your sins?
You or Jesus?
You or Jesus?
**
More Stuff
More Stuff
Been in my lovely, comfy home next to the Dancing Deer Forest for 13 years.
Lived alone here for nine years.
Haven't had a full-time job in almost two years.
Haven't missed paying a bill on time (except for my own quickly corrected stupidity or forgetfulness) in all those years.
My dandy little 2004 Honda is paid off.
My dandy Kawasaki is paid off.
My home is cool. I have food and plenty of toys.
I have money in the bank.
I shared some with my church this morning.
Shared some with my family last night.
I am safe, healthy, loved, protected and forgiven.
Because of God's loving and faithful provision.
I will be well.
Hopefully with Suzannah.
And we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
How will you be?
Where will you be ... forever?
Choose wisely.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
2012: The Best of Times ... Mostly
Hi.
Hope you're well.
Been a long time, huh?
This will be my first post since July ... when I wrote Dad's eulogy.
(pause)
(pause)
I am not deluded enough to believe that your life has been worse off due to the absence of my rambling, but I thought I'd take time on a frigidly sunny day in Georgia to tell you that I am well.
Very well, thank you.
Life After Dad
A good writer could express to you the relief I feel that I rode Grasshopper, the humble ninja, to Chattanooga to hang out with Dad on the day before Father's Day 2012.
We cheerfully went to a local steakhouse (in his car). We cheerfully ate our fill of peanuts, steak, salad, tea and/or Diet Coke. We cheerfully chatted.
Afterward, Dad and I cheerfully parted.
That night he died.
***
Roughly 99% of the people in my life believe that's how they'd want to go, if they make it to the age of 91. A few people think my Last Supper with Dad was too much for his frail condition and hastened his demise.
**
Dad traveled the world. Weeks on safari in Africa and all around that continent. The Great Wall of China. Europe. Fancy cruises from Sidney to Singapore and from someplace else to Rio, via the Panama Canal. He actually sent me a postcard from Bora Bora. He not only went to places you and I will never see, he knew the best restaurants in town. Not the most snooty or most expensive, mind you. Just the most fun.
As I've written before, Dad didn't own shoes or a suitable suit. His abode had no heat or air conditioning.
Dad drove an old beat-up, paintless car that 1) broke down or 2) I broke on several occasions on Tantalus Drive ... overlooking his condo on the edge of the Pacific in Honolulu.
His condo didn't need heat or A/C. If it got warm, he opened the sliding glass door to his bugless lanai/porch. When it got chilly, he shut the sliding door. A big trip meant firing up his old Caddy to go to Costco or down to his redneck yacht club, within sight of his condo ... and the world's most gorgeous sunsets over the horizon from paradise.
The view from Tantalus Drive now overlooks Dad's final resting place at Punchbowl.
Dad lived it up.
**
For years -- since my brother and I viciously drug Dad's butt back to the icy depths of Tennessee, for better healthcare and to be closer to family -- Dad and I would hang out a weekend or two each month. Our dates always included a nice meal at a place of his choice/approval.
Everybody understood that Dad's normal diet consisted of 1) a whiff of real food and 2) a plate of healthy food lovingly prepared by his almost-daughter, my sister-in-law. When I came, Dad got whatever he wanted. We didn't just break his diet, we danced on it, kicked sand in its face and called it names.
Our Last Supper was no different. Except for the fact that it was our Last Supper.
**
So. Are visions of gazillion dollar bills dancing in your head? An opulent inheritance, perhaps?
Nope. But when you expect nothing, anything is plenty.
If you were almost 63 and your life savings equalled mine, you'd jump out a window, thinking that was your only hope.
Ha! Who needs money? I'm in love!
Trying to share some with my girls. As a beloved mentor used to say, "Do your giving while you're living. Then you're knowing where it's going."
I've splurged on business & personal trips. A dandy camera for my work. An AT&T Microcell for my house, so that my fancy AT&T phone actually works here. I bought Dad's 2004 Honda Accord. It's what they call "a sweet ride." And an alarm system for the house when I'm away.
Life is not better without Dad. Life is not better driving a car with 150,000 miles on the odometer, instead of one with 340,000 miles.
Sure, I can enjoy what I used to call "recreational" glasses of milk without guilt. And I am more willing to give tips.
But ever since that Friday afternoon a couple of years ago when I called the folks who managed my IRAs and re-invested the majority of my retirement money into mutual funds -- carefully chosen -- I have learned that money is fleeting. The following Monday morning, the stock market tanked, unexpectedly. Hasn't been that high since.
Who knew?
Solomon: "For wealth certainly makes itself wings and flies like an eagle toward the heavens."
So be it.
I will share what I have. Enjoy what I have. Save some of what I have. And have no trust in what I have ... only in the God who has allowed me to have what I have.
**
I'll always remember the man I met who was a career scientist. Earned a zillion dollars. Squeezed every dime. Lived a frugal existence. Saved for retirement. Drove an old car. Finally sold the old car to a young kid. The kid had an accident. If I remember correctly, a fatal accident. All of a sudden, a bunch of people were suing the scientist for everything he owned ... or could borrow.
As a friend says, don't hold on too tightly.
We need what God has ... more than what we have.
***
Suzannah
Still in love. Still delighted. Still connecting, long-distance, morning, noon and night.
Did I tell you I have seen Suzannah several times since July?
**
Back when I had a radio talk show in my hometown, I thought I had the best job in the world. After I lost that job, I thought being the morning man at a Christian station for several years was the best job ever. Working for 15 years in media relations later became the best job after I left radio. Now, writing for a couple of recreational websites -- including one devoted to the Appalachian Trail -- is by far my best job ever.
**
When I travel to the Appalachian Trail (AT), it's a business trip because I post stories and pictures on the Internet. My latest coolest job takes me to festivals along the AT and to minor and major landmarks between GA and Maine.
On several trips, Suzannah has been at my side (except for separate rooms the one time we were on the road overnight).
We travel well together. She is a blessing. I am a blessing to her. We do well together and God uses us to bless one another. We. Love. One. Another.
Since July we've been to twelve states together, from Georgia to Maine.
*
Yes, we've had a fight. Big one.
The breakup kind.
Endured. Both realized we're worth the effort, trust and hope.
Both thankful we made that decision.
**
We've been connected for more than a year. We are amazed -- and a bit proud -- at how God has answered so many of our prayers. For ourselves and for others.
Is everything perfect? Nope. (So, how are things in your relationships? Perfect?)
How do you think the average guy 16-22 would react to seeing his mother get goofy over a guy like me who lives 1,000 miles away?
Her kids are pretty normal.
Suzannah's extended family and friends are delightful. Not a clunker in the bunch. They've all been wonderful to me.
Yeah, it's complicated. But totally worth it.
Just gonna take time.
And the blessing of God.
**
In Sunday School this morning, a lady in front of me turned around and spoke to the guy next to me (her father). She got all snarky because her dad didn't tell her that the class had moved from one room to another since she last attended. She was late getting to class. Blamed it on him. Gave her father The Look of Death. And felt he deserved it. In public. In Sunday School.
Nasty people are just so ... nasty. sheesh
Brought to mind the Bible verse, "There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus."
Brought to mind the words I often add, "except from your family."
**
I figure the Intruder Alerts will be fewer and farther between in the future. But, as long as Suzannah and I do not count one another as intruders, we'll endure.
****
2012
Big year for me, work-wise.
A patient gentleman kindly taught me how to use WordPress to post my writing on his websites. I have earned enough trust to post what I feel is in his best interests. The sites' readership and income have risen to record levels. We are thankful.
Earlier in the year, a friend asked me to review a book that he and his team had worked on sporadically for several years.
*
Not to be nasty, but it was a mess.
When collectors rebuild classic cars, the first thing they do is take them all apart. Right down to the basic frame.
We did that with this book.
Took it down to "What is the theme of this chapter? What is the key point in this chapter? What do you want people to take away from this chapter?"
We went back to "What is a sentence? What is a paragraph? What is a chapter?"
Many times I felt I was being too critical ... too picky. Most times I knew you cannot put new paint on a rusty car that needs engine and electrical work and think that a new shine cures fundamental problems.
*
The book ultimately hit the Amazon bestseller list. Not because of my unique input, but because our team did not settle for mediocrity ... even if it meant starting over again on some parts.
Solomon: "The precious possession of a man is diligence."
****
During 2012, a few loved ones vanished; returned; were ill; foreclosed upon; in the hospital; prospered; were a blessing; were a pain in the ass; were in need; provided for my needs; rejoiced and/or wept with me.
I "retired" this year. I draw early retirement that supplements my part-time writing income.
My COBRA health insurance expired this past week. Now I have catastrophic coverage. I'll be fine, as long as my medical needs are superficial wounds caused by meteor fragments while riding on public transportation on odd days that do not have a "T" in the day's name, unless the injury comes as part of a war or insurrection ... or if I am committing a felony.
What could possibly go wrong?
****
2013
By God's grace, I'll continue writing content for the sites I'm now serving.
Goal: To get paid to travel and write for additional clients.
By God's grace, I'll be able to be a part of my daughters' lives and see my five grandchildren grow up to be godly men and princesses.
By God's grace, I hope to be with Suzannah on a more consistent basis. We are made for each other.
By God's grace, I hope to have fewer debts at the end of 2013.
By God's grace, I will try to lose weight in 2013.
By God's grace, I'll continue to go to church, work on Bible memorization with Suzannah, witness God's answers to prayer and not screw up my life too awfully.
By God's grace, if things don't turn out the way you hope they will during 2013, you'll know that I will pray for you. Even if you don't believe in God or have a lick of faith. By God's grace, I'll have enough faith in God for both of us to see Him make things better and work it all for good.
By God's grace, we'll be safe from harm this year.
By God's grace, I'll be faithful to God ... no matter what.
By God's grace, God will be gracious to us in 2013, as He has in the past.
Please do not let 2013 be the year you give up.
It's all going to work out. Some things simply take time.
Y'know?
Happy New Year!
Hope you're well.
Been a long time, huh?
This will be my first post since July ... when I wrote Dad's eulogy.
(pause)
(pause)
I am not deluded enough to believe that your life has been worse off due to the absence of my rambling, but I thought I'd take time on a frigidly sunny day in Georgia to tell you that I am well.
Very well, thank you.
Life After Dad
A good writer could express to you the relief I feel that I rode Grasshopper, the humble ninja, to Chattanooga to hang out with Dad on the day before Father's Day 2012.
We cheerfully went to a local steakhouse (in his car). We cheerfully ate our fill of peanuts, steak, salad, tea and/or Diet Coke. We cheerfully chatted.
Afterward, Dad and I cheerfully parted.
That night he died.
***
Roughly 99% of the people in my life believe that's how they'd want to go, if they make it to the age of 91. A few people think my Last Supper with Dad was too much for his frail condition and hastened his demise.
**
Dad traveled the world. Weeks on safari in Africa and all around that continent. The Great Wall of China. Europe. Fancy cruises from Sidney to Singapore and from someplace else to Rio, via the Panama Canal. He actually sent me a postcard from Bora Bora. He not only went to places you and I will never see, he knew the best restaurants in town. Not the most snooty or most expensive, mind you. Just the most fun.
As I've written before, Dad didn't own shoes or a suitable suit. His abode had no heat or air conditioning.
Dad drove an old beat-up, paintless car that 1) broke down or 2) I broke on several occasions on Tantalus Drive ... overlooking his condo on the edge of the Pacific in Honolulu.
His condo didn't need heat or A/C. If it got warm, he opened the sliding glass door to his bugless lanai/porch. When it got chilly, he shut the sliding door. A big trip meant firing up his old Caddy to go to Costco or down to his redneck yacht club, within sight of his condo ... and the world's most gorgeous sunsets over the horizon from paradise.The view from Tantalus Drive now overlooks Dad's final resting place at Punchbowl.
Dad lived it up.
**
For years -- since my brother and I viciously drug Dad's butt back to the icy depths of Tennessee, for better healthcare and to be closer to family -- Dad and I would hang out a weekend or two each month. Our dates always included a nice meal at a place of his choice/approval.
Everybody understood that Dad's normal diet consisted of 1) a whiff of real food and 2) a plate of healthy food lovingly prepared by his almost-daughter, my sister-in-law. When I came, Dad got whatever he wanted. We didn't just break his diet, we danced on it, kicked sand in its face and called it names.
Our Last Supper was no different. Except for the fact that it was our Last Supper.
**
So. Are visions of gazillion dollar bills dancing in your head? An opulent inheritance, perhaps?
Nope. But when you expect nothing, anything is plenty.
If you were almost 63 and your life savings equalled mine, you'd jump out a window, thinking that was your only hope.
Ha! Who needs money? I'm in love!
Trying to share some with my girls. As a beloved mentor used to say, "Do your giving while you're living. Then you're knowing where it's going."
I've splurged on business & personal trips. A dandy camera for my work. An AT&T Microcell for my house, so that my fancy AT&T phone actually works here. I bought Dad's 2004 Honda Accord. It's what they call "a sweet ride." And an alarm system for the house when I'm away.
Life is not better without Dad. Life is not better driving a car with 150,000 miles on the odometer, instead of one with 340,000 miles.
Sure, I can enjoy what I used to call "recreational" glasses of milk without guilt. And I am more willing to give tips.
But ever since that Friday afternoon a couple of years ago when I called the folks who managed my IRAs and re-invested the majority of my retirement money into mutual funds -- carefully chosen -- I have learned that money is fleeting. The following Monday morning, the stock market tanked, unexpectedly. Hasn't been that high since.
Who knew?
Solomon: "For wealth certainly makes itself wings and flies like an eagle toward the heavens."
So be it.
I will share what I have. Enjoy what I have. Save some of what I have. And have no trust in what I have ... only in the God who has allowed me to have what I have.
**
I'll always remember the man I met who was a career scientist. Earned a zillion dollars. Squeezed every dime. Lived a frugal existence. Saved for retirement. Drove an old car. Finally sold the old car to a young kid. The kid had an accident. If I remember correctly, a fatal accident. All of a sudden, a bunch of people were suing the scientist for everything he owned ... or could borrow.
As a friend says, don't hold on too tightly.
We need what God has ... more than what we have.
***
Suzannah
Still in love. Still delighted. Still connecting, long-distance, morning, noon and night.
Did I tell you I have seen Suzannah several times since July?
**
Back when I had a radio talk show in my hometown, I thought I had the best job in the world. After I lost that job, I thought being the morning man at a Christian station for several years was the best job ever. Working for 15 years in media relations later became the best job after I left radio. Now, writing for a couple of recreational websites -- including one devoted to the Appalachian Trail -- is by far my best job ever.
**
When I travel to the Appalachian Trail (AT), it's a business trip because I post stories and pictures on the Internet. My latest coolest job takes me to festivals along the AT and to minor and major landmarks between GA and Maine.
On several trips, Suzannah has been at my side (except for separate rooms the one time we were on the road overnight).
We travel well together. She is a blessing. I am a blessing to her. We do well together and God uses us to bless one another. We. Love. One. Another.
Since July we've been to twelve states together, from Georgia to Maine.
*
Yes, we've had a fight. Big one.
The breakup kind.
Endured. Both realized we're worth the effort, trust and hope.
Both thankful we made that decision.
**
We've been connected for more than a year. We are amazed -- and a bit proud -- at how God has answered so many of our prayers. For ourselves and for others.
Is everything perfect? Nope. (So, how are things in your relationships? Perfect?)
How do you think the average guy 16-22 would react to seeing his mother get goofy over a guy like me who lives 1,000 miles away?
Her kids are pretty normal.
Suzannah's extended family and friends are delightful. Not a clunker in the bunch. They've all been wonderful to me.
Yeah, it's complicated. But totally worth it.
Just gonna take time.
And the blessing of God.
**
In Sunday School this morning, a lady in front of me turned around and spoke to the guy next to me (her father). She got all snarky because her dad didn't tell her that the class had moved from one room to another since she last attended. She was late getting to class. Blamed it on him. Gave her father The Look of Death. And felt he deserved it. In public. In Sunday School.
Nasty people are just so ... nasty. sheesh
Brought to mind the Bible verse, "There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus."
Brought to mind the words I often add, "except from your family."
**
I figure the Intruder Alerts will be fewer and farther between in the future. But, as long as Suzannah and I do not count one another as intruders, we'll endure.
****
2012
Big year for me, work-wise.
A patient gentleman kindly taught me how to use WordPress to post my writing on his websites. I have earned enough trust to post what I feel is in his best interests. The sites' readership and income have risen to record levels. We are thankful.
Earlier in the year, a friend asked me to review a book that he and his team had worked on sporadically for several years.
*
Not to be nasty, but it was a mess.
When collectors rebuild classic cars, the first thing they do is take them all apart. Right down to the basic frame.
We did that with this book.
Took it down to "What is the theme of this chapter? What is the key point in this chapter? What do you want people to take away from this chapter?"
We went back to "What is a sentence? What is a paragraph? What is a chapter?"
Many times I felt I was being too critical ... too picky. Most times I knew you cannot put new paint on a rusty car that needs engine and electrical work and think that a new shine cures fundamental problems.
*
The book ultimately hit the Amazon bestseller list. Not because of my unique input, but because our team did not settle for mediocrity ... even if it meant starting over again on some parts.
Solomon: "The precious possession of a man is diligence."
****
During 2012, a few loved ones vanished; returned; were ill; foreclosed upon; in the hospital; prospered; were a blessing; were a pain in the ass; were in need; provided for my needs; rejoiced and/or wept with me.
I "retired" this year. I draw early retirement that supplements my part-time writing income.
My COBRA health insurance expired this past week. Now I have catastrophic coverage. I'll be fine, as long as my medical needs are superficial wounds caused by meteor fragments while riding on public transportation on odd days that do not have a "T" in the day's name, unless the injury comes as part of a war or insurrection ... or if I am committing a felony.
What could possibly go wrong?
****
2013
By God's grace, I'll continue writing content for the sites I'm now serving.
Goal: To get paid to travel and write for additional clients.
By God's grace, I'll be able to be a part of my daughters' lives and see my five grandchildren grow up to be godly men and princesses.
By God's grace, I hope to be with Suzannah on a more consistent basis. We are made for each other.
By God's grace, I hope to have fewer debts at the end of 2013.
By God's grace, I will try to lose weight in 2013.
By God's grace, I'll continue to go to church, work on Bible memorization with Suzannah, witness God's answers to prayer and not screw up my life too awfully.
By God's grace, if things don't turn out the way you hope they will during 2013, you'll know that I will pray for you. Even if you don't believe in God or have a lick of faith. By God's grace, I'll have enough faith in God for both of us to see Him make things better and work it all for good.
By God's grace, we'll be safe from harm this year.
By God's grace, I'll be faithful to God ... no matter what.
By God's grace, God will be gracious to us in 2013, as He has in the past.
Please do not let 2013 be the year you give up.
It's all going to work out. Some things simply take time.
Y'know?
Happy New Year!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Eulogy to My Dad
Yup.
Dad.
91.
Sunday, June 17, 2012. Chattanooga.
In his room at my brother's house.
In his sleep, holding the clicker with his candy box open.
~~
Oh. Sorry.
Hi.
Hope you are well.
~~
Bear with me please. I am in the initial phases of The Fog that God graciously provides those in shock and/or grief, lest we be overwhelmed beyond what we believe is already overwhelming, but isn't.
~~
As is obvious to anyone who has read any of my previous blogs (Yes, I know they're called "posts," not "blogs." I don't care.), my actions and/or reactions are "all about me."
This blog/post will be no different.
~~
My brother (MB), God bless him, was in deepest, darkest somewhere (DDS) when Dad passed away.
After caring for Dad for years, MB was about Our Father's business when Dad departed.
All is well. MB being on the mission field was not an omission of love or care, merely living life, following God's call and guidance.
~~
Know anybody with wood floors?
Did you ever witness them being freaked over the floors being scratched or marred, before they gave up and went back to living life with more sane priorities?
~
Knew a lady who moved a piece of furniture on her wood floor. Scratched it. Feared her husband would see a bloody gash and accuse her of some sort of indolence, ignorance or hostility.
Right. They're no longer married.
~
Now, imagine your fancy schmancy floors -- worthy of humongous helpings of hubris -- being used for a one-man Roller Derby.
Can you hear plates dropping? Iron skillets? Chairs being scooted from the table in a way so careless that the least amount of drag coefficient on the floor was irrelevant? <gasp> Chair scooting with only one goal ... one selfish motivation ... one conceited purpose!!! ... moving a chair far enough to stand up!
~~
After many tumbles and spills, Dad reluctantly agreed to use his walker.
On MB's beautiful floors.
Would you allow your father to do that?
Might be silly to you, but I'm very proud of MB for that particular example of grace, love and care.
~~
Dad was fun to be around.
While MB was in DDS and my sister-in-law was home, I rarely visited.
Didn't want anybody to think that one of the most godly women on the planet and I were having midday monkey sex, ignoring Dad's cries for food or pain medication.
The whole "avoiding the appearance of sin" takes on a screwy life of its own among the religious, in my bitter opinion.
But it was Father's Day weekend, MB was in DDS and I have this zippy motorcycle that was made for zipping on mountain roads, so I made plans to zip 150 miles to take Dad for lunch.
To hell with any pervert who could find an evil appearance in that.
Popped Dad in his car, flipped off the dialysis center as we drove by and drove to Logan's Roadhouse for a big meal.
~~
Dad wore his summer jacket inside because his fat-to-bones ratio was about 0/100 and he had nothing but warm memories to fight off the frigid air conditioning.
Family came and sat at a nearby table. Young lady was having her 12th birthday party with her parents.
Dad and I adopted them.
Dad offered to sing Happy Birthday, but the birthday girl (TBG) declined.
We would not have that, of course, so we blabbed to the waitress ... who offered to have a HUGELY embarrassing amount of people scar TBG for life by chanting, clapping, singing and generally make her stand out from the crowd -- with her parents! -- which, of course, is worse than acne or having you-know-who wear the same dress at the prom.
~~
Dad's diet was limited to looking at pictures of bland food. If he salivated, he had to turn the page.
I never pretended that Dad & I kept his diet when we were together.
No, we never got a keg of dark beer and ate bar peanuts ... but close.
I shortened his life, but made a few of his final days worth looking forward to.
Those who loved him more withstood Dad's dietary protestations and extended his days until we could get together again.
~~
The truth be told, while we were in Logan's I said, "Dad? Would you like a glass of wine with dinner?"
Which was similar to asking me, "Robert? Would you like to own a car with fewer than 337,373 miles on it?"
The menu had one of Dad's favorites: sweet potato French fries. No doubt they were meant to be on Dad's daily diet and were only missing due to a neglectful physician's oversight.
I think Dad had ribs.
I know I had steak.
Dad had some kind of beered-up onions.
I had a salad.
Neither of us had dessert, because my sister-in-law (SIL) had one prepared for our return.
Took a while before the meal came, so we feasted and feted on buckets of peanuts. This was our Father's Day together, a most rare occasion.
We downed the peanuts like pain-pill addicts at an all-you-can-pop party.
Dad brazenly scooped up handfuls of peanuts and put them in his coat pockets.
That was beyond my ability to ignore, so I said, "Dad, I know I am your son from The Dark Side, but do you really think you're going to smuggle those peanuts in the house and snack on them and not get busted?"
Dad looked at me, as only a father can.
Sure, I was confident that he could not reach across the table and "whup me upside the head," but I decided it was best not to begin The War of the Peanuts.
Instead Dad paid for our meal -- although I sincerely offered to pay -- and thankfully watched as Dad left a tip for our waitress that was WAY more than she would've gotten out of me.
~~
We drove down to Hales Bar Marina on Nickajack Lake and watched people fish and putter around in their boats.
[Please Note: I do not know why it is called "Nickajack Lake," but for $50 I will create a dandy tale starring you or a love one, even if your name is not Nick or Jack. Thank you.]
Dad was patient with me as I yammered on (again) about how cool it would be to rent one of the floating cabins.
As always, I waxed on about fishing off the cool porch ... until Dad's interest waned.
But, we were in no rush.
Said a few times, "Would you like to go back now, Dad? Or shall we just sit here for a little while?"
"Let's stay for awhile."
So we did. Happily. Quietly. Comfortably. Pleasantly.
No need to rush.
Until Dad said, "We'd probably better be going." Which, being translated, means "[insert body part here] is killing me."
~~
Got back to MB's and my SIL had a delectable dessert for us. Real dessert food. Fresh, delicious and prepared with love and care.
Dad was tired, even though he slept much of the 20-minute ride back home.
As always, he was pleasant.
As always, he was fun to be with.
As always, I expected to see him again.
~~
When it was time for me to ride home, Dad didn't walk to the door to wave goodbye, as usual.
He stood in the dining room. Gently waving his arm and hand.
Bidding me farewell fondly.
~~
My sister-in-law walked me out to my motorcycle. As I suited up, she said, "Do you think Dad will last two more weeks?"
MB was scheduled to return by then.
Never really crossed my mind that Dad wouldn't last a few more days.
~~
We had all seen him worse off before.
I'd flown to Hawaii to care for him (I know. "Poor bunny rabbit," right?) during a couple of surgeries. I forget how many times really.
I recall hearing that he'd had a heart attack during surgery ... a small bit of cancer was found ... blockages ... warnings ... kidney failure ... dialysis ... but that never beat him.
I remember him asking me to hold a Mason jar because he could not bear the pain of making it to the bathroom.
Innumerable visits to a variety of hospitals after we drug him back to America in order to care for him as he aged.
There were lots of scares.
Dialysis sending Dad to the hospital in an ambulance. A zillion pills. Finding him on the floor, bleeding. Frightening wounds we thought would never heal ... although we begged God to do so for Dad's sake -- and ours, as we dressed and bandaged them.
Tests. More tests. Second opinions. Hospitals. Rehab hospitals.
Surgeries. A pacemaker. Infections.
Visits to doctors. Visits from home healthcare workers.
Seemed it would never end.
~~
"But I always thought that I'd see you ... one more time again. Thought I'd see youoooooooooooo one more time again."
~~
Zipped home on the bike. Quite proud of myself, naturally. 300 zippy miles on my zippy motorcycle. Safe. No tickets.
Called Dad. He sounded great. Great!
We chatted. Told one another what a great time we had together. Again.
Thanked Dad for the meal. He thanked me for coming over.
We both told one another that we were more than welcome.
~~
Wished Dad a Happy Father's Day.
Got the same.
~~
Said goodbye.
With love. Joy. Peace. Resolution.
~~
My SIL called me Father's Day morning.
She broke the news well.
Dad left in the night without a struggle.
~~
Gone for good this time.
At least for now.
~~~
Got any bridges you need to mend?
Don't be a fool.
Parents? Kids? Spouse? Family?
Get over it.
Seek peace and pursue it.
End well.
It's worth it.
Dad.
91.
Sunday, June 17, 2012. Chattanooga.
In his room at my brother's house.
In his sleep, holding the clicker with his candy box open.
~~
Oh. Sorry.
Hi.
Hope you are well.
~~
Bear with me please. I am in the initial phases of The Fog that God graciously provides those in shock and/or grief, lest we be overwhelmed beyond what we believe is already overwhelming, but isn't.
~~
As is obvious to anyone who has read any of my previous blogs (Yes, I know they're called "posts," not "blogs." I don't care.), my actions and/or reactions are "all about me."
This blog/post will be no different.
~~
My brother (MB), God bless him, was in deepest, darkest somewhere (DDS) when Dad passed away.
After caring for Dad for years, MB was about Our Father's business when Dad departed.
All is well. MB being on the mission field was not an omission of love or care, merely living life, following God's call and guidance.
~~
Know anybody with wood floors?
Did you ever witness them being freaked over the floors being scratched or marred, before they gave up and went back to living life with more sane priorities?
~
Knew a lady who moved a piece of furniture on her wood floor. Scratched it. Feared her husband would see a bloody gash and accuse her of some sort of indolence, ignorance or hostility.
Right. They're no longer married.
~
Now, imagine your fancy schmancy floors -- worthy of humongous helpings of hubris -- being used for a one-man Roller Derby.
Can you hear plates dropping? Iron skillets? Chairs being scooted from the table in a way so careless that the least amount of drag coefficient on the floor was irrelevant? <gasp> Chair scooting with only one goal ... one selfish motivation ... one conceited purpose!!! ... moving a chair far enough to stand up!
~~
After many tumbles and spills, Dad reluctantly agreed to use his walker.
On MB's beautiful floors.
Would you allow your father to do that?
Might be silly to you, but I'm very proud of MB for that particular example of grace, love and care.
~~
Dad was fun to be around.
While MB was in DDS and my sister-in-law was home, I rarely visited.
Didn't want anybody to think that one of the most godly women on the planet and I were having midday monkey sex, ignoring Dad's cries for food or pain medication.
The whole "avoiding the appearance of sin" takes on a screwy life of its own among the religious, in my bitter opinion.
But it was Father's Day weekend, MB was in DDS and I have this zippy motorcycle that was made for zipping on mountain roads, so I made plans to zip 150 miles to take Dad for lunch.
To hell with any pervert who could find an evil appearance in that.
Popped Dad in his car, flipped off the dialysis center as we drove by and drove to Logan's Roadhouse for a big meal.
~~
Dad wore his summer jacket inside because his fat-to-bones ratio was about 0/100 and he had nothing but warm memories to fight off the frigid air conditioning.
Family came and sat at a nearby table. Young lady was having her 12th birthday party with her parents.
Dad and I adopted them.
Dad offered to sing Happy Birthday, but the birthday girl (TBG) declined.
We would not have that, of course, so we blabbed to the waitress ... who offered to have a HUGELY embarrassing amount of people scar TBG for life by chanting, clapping, singing and generally make her stand out from the crowd -- with her parents! -- which, of course, is worse than acne or having you-know-who wear the same dress at the prom.
~~
Dad's diet was limited to looking at pictures of bland food. If he salivated, he had to turn the page.
I never pretended that Dad & I kept his diet when we were together.
No, we never got a keg of dark beer and ate bar peanuts ... but close.
I shortened his life, but made a few of his final days worth looking forward to.
Those who loved him more withstood Dad's dietary protestations and extended his days until we could get together again.
~~
The truth be told, while we were in Logan's I said, "Dad? Would you like a glass of wine with dinner?"
Which was similar to asking me, "Robert? Would you like to own a car with fewer than 337,373 miles on it?"
The menu had one of Dad's favorites: sweet potato French fries. No doubt they were meant to be on Dad's daily diet and were only missing due to a neglectful physician's oversight.
I think Dad had ribs.
I know I had steak.
Dad had some kind of beered-up onions.
I had a salad.
Neither of us had dessert, because my sister-in-law (SIL) had one prepared for our return.
Took a while before the meal came, so we feasted and feted on buckets of peanuts. This was our Father's Day together, a most rare occasion.
We downed the peanuts like pain-pill addicts at an all-you-can-pop party.
Dad brazenly scooped up handfuls of peanuts and put them in his coat pockets.
That was beyond my ability to ignore, so I said, "Dad, I know I am your son from The Dark Side, but do you really think you're going to smuggle those peanuts in the house and snack on them and not get busted?"
Dad looked at me, as only a father can.
Sure, I was confident that he could not reach across the table and "whup me upside the head," but I decided it was best not to begin The War of the Peanuts.
Instead Dad paid for our meal -- although I sincerely offered to pay -- and thankfully watched as Dad left a tip for our waitress that was WAY more than she would've gotten out of me.
~~
We drove down to Hales Bar Marina on Nickajack Lake and watched people fish and putter around in their boats.
[Please Note: I do not know why it is called "Nickajack Lake," but for $50 I will create a dandy tale starring you or a love one, even if your name is not Nick or Jack. Thank you.]
Dad was patient with me as I yammered on (again) about how cool it would be to rent one of the floating cabins.
As always, I waxed on about fishing off the cool porch ... until Dad's interest waned.
But, we were in no rush.
Said a few times, "Would you like to go back now, Dad? Or shall we just sit here for a little while?"
"Let's stay for awhile."
So we did. Happily. Quietly. Comfortably. Pleasantly.
No need to rush.
Until Dad said, "We'd probably better be going." Which, being translated, means "[insert body part here] is killing me."
~~
Got back to MB's and my SIL had a delectable dessert for us. Real dessert food. Fresh, delicious and prepared with love and care.
Dad was tired, even though he slept much of the 20-minute ride back home.
As always, he was pleasant.
As always, he was fun to be with.
As always, I expected to see him again.
~~
When it was time for me to ride home, Dad didn't walk to the door to wave goodbye, as usual.
He stood in the dining room. Gently waving his arm and hand.
Bidding me farewell fondly.
~~
My sister-in-law walked me out to my motorcycle. As I suited up, she said, "Do you think Dad will last two more weeks?"
MB was scheduled to return by then.
Never really crossed my mind that Dad wouldn't last a few more days.
~~
We had all seen him worse off before.
I'd flown to Hawaii to care for him (I know. "Poor bunny rabbit," right?) during a couple of surgeries. I forget how many times really.
I recall hearing that he'd had a heart attack during surgery ... a small bit of cancer was found ... blockages ... warnings ... kidney failure ... dialysis ... but that never beat him.
I remember him asking me to hold a Mason jar because he could not bear the pain of making it to the bathroom.
Innumerable visits to a variety of hospitals after we drug him back to America in order to care for him as he aged.
There were lots of scares.
Dialysis sending Dad to the hospital in an ambulance. A zillion pills. Finding him on the floor, bleeding. Frightening wounds we thought would never heal ... although we begged God to do so for Dad's sake -- and ours, as we dressed and bandaged them.
Tests. More tests. Second opinions. Hospitals. Rehab hospitals.
Surgeries. A pacemaker. Infections.
Visits to doctors. Visits from home healthcare workers.
Seemed it would never end.
~~
"But I always thought that I'd see you ... one more time again. Thought I'd see youoooooooooooo one more time again."
~~
Zipped home on the bike. Quite proud of myself, naturally. 300 zippy miles on my zippy motorcycle. Safe. No tickets.
Called Dad. He sounded great. Great!
We chatted. Told one another what a great time we had together. Again.
Thanked Dad for the meal. He thanked me for coming over.
We both told one another that we were more than welcome.
~~
Wished Dad a Happy Father's Day.
Got the same.
~~
Said goodbye.
With love. Joy. Peace. Resolution.
~~
My SIL called me Father's Day morning.
She broke the news well.
Dad left in the night without a struggle.
~~
Gone for good this time.
At least for now.
~~~
Got any bridges you need to mend?
Don't be a fool.
Parents? Kids? Spouse? Family?
Get over it.
Seek peace and pursue it.
End well.
It's worth it.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Not Perfect. Just Fabulous.
Hi.
Hope you're well.
Been so long since I've blogged that I spent the last half-hour trying to figure out my user name and password just to log in.
Four months.
Amazing how much can happen in 17 weeks or so.
Think you're stuck in a rut and "things will never get any better"? Nonsense. Your entire world could change tomorrow -- for better or worse.
***
Dad
Went to visit overnight a few weeks ago. Went back that Friday and stayed until Tuesday, while my brother spent time with his kids.
Dad and I had good times.
Drug his butt out of the house and meandered all over the countryside. Took him to Olive Garden and feasted. He had a slug of wine with dinner and dessert. Fun time. My Father's Day present to him.
We were out for five or six hours, I forget. All I remember is Dad was spent by the time we got back to his house. Exhausted. ~~ He flopped into his chair, popped on his TV and we watched westerns for a couple of hours.
This will only sound boring to people who do not miss their parents. If you do, you understand what a treasure it is to have a nice day with your dad. A fussless, anger-free meal and a ride in the country, reading signs like scenes from My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
"Chinese food!" "Motorcycle shop!" "Rock City!" "Bait shop ... worms in rear."
A blessed day, indeed.
Yup. We spent time at the Chickamauga Dam watching people try to catch fish.
Sitting quietly together. Watching trains and boats and walkers and bicyclists.
Stuff Dad doesn't see much outside his window.
No talk of politics or the economy or wars/rumors of wars.
Peaceful communion with the outdoors and one another.
Thank you, Lord.
***
Donna the Honda
Running strong.
337,000+ miles.
Finally figured out how to engage the cruise control with more regularity.
Grateful I was never arrested for harassing women on freeways when I would speed up to 80 mph, jab the cruise control buttons ... slow down to 50 mph ... speed up to 80 ... bang the dang buttons ... drift back to 50 ... terrorizing innocent people on the highway like some creep from The Twilight Zone ... back to 80 jabbing the $#(@$# buttons, and so forth.
A/C works and I get 28 mpg. Since one of the rear windows died in the down position, I use the sunroof less. Caution, fear or lack of faith? I dunno. If I'm not too far from home on clear days, I'm happy to open the roof up. I like the fresh air.
Don't drive much, except to church on Sundays. Honest. Otherwise I use ...
***
My Newer Motorcycle
Sold my 2001 Kawasaki Vulcan 800 for $2,200. Had 56,000 miles on it. Ran great and looked terrific.
Bought a 2005 Kawasaki Concours with 34,000 miles for just under $3,000.
Such a deal.
Detachable hard saddlebags. 1,000 cc high-performance engine. Three disc brakes. Mostly comfy. Insanely fast.
New, it went 0-60 in less than 4 seconds and 0-100 in 10.5 seconds. That's enough.
Have not once scraped my pegs or shaved my boot heels in curves.
Nice bike.
***
The Princess & The Boys
Had another sleepover with the Princess for her birthday. We drove Donna to an Appalachian Trail festival in North Carolina. Had a fabulous time.
Yup. Dinner at Waffle House. Our favorite.
Hope to spend time with her this summer, Lord willing. We'll see.
~~
Sang to Samuel, Ezra and Isaac this past week. Great kids. Just getting old enough to say "hello" and "goodbye" and "Papa" and one lone "I love you!"
What a deal.
God has been so kind.
***
Work and/or The Lack Thereof
I am now officially semi-retired.
Still looking for work.
Still working. Writing for a gentleman who owns three Web sites.
My job is to make him money by writing and posting material on his sites. Readers will, therefore, read our stuff, then click on ads and buy stuff. That might sound too simple, but it's what makes Google and Facebook zillions of dollars.
I love it.
A friend asked me where I get my material. The answer? You have to, that's all.
You comb the Internet for pertinent stories. You take pictures. You speak with people. You write a compelling story. You compose, post, proof and promote your work ... and you pray for God to bless.
After five months on the job income from the sites increased by 250%. My guess is that figure will increase, by God's grace, when I see the six month stats in a few days.
The best quote from my boss? "I wish I'd hired you years ago."
I earn 33% of what I used to, but I choose my hours and have a blast. Last week, for example, I went out for a ride with the police on a local lake. Hoped they'd let me drive the boat, play with the siren, fire warning shots and fish with their stun guns.
It was fun anyway.
Went to a rowing regatta and took pictures from inside the timing tower for another story. Then, had a good time at a big-time BBQ championship in town, tasting samples, meeting nice folks and taking pictures.
All free. All paid gigs. All business trips.
Went to a meeting to hear one of the state's highest officials speak. Got a nice picture of him. He was also fun enough to take a picture of the two of us together holding a goofy sign ... for my girlfriend.
***
My Girlfriend
Yup, we're official. So official that we're Facebook official.
Chorus: "So you have met her?"
Quiet. I'm writing here.
Chorus: "That's what we figured."
~~
OK. It's ... non-traditional.
Chorus: "No, it's screwy. That's not a girlfriend, that's a pen pal."
Have you been talking to her family?
Where was I?
~~
Oh. We've texted, e-mailed and spoken on the phone for a least an hour a day for the better part of six months.
She is the only person alive who always knows how I am, where I am, what's going on and who wants to make my life better.
Not that she's the only person who cares about me. But, well ... "they have their own lives," y'know?
~~
Suz would tell you that God has used me to bless and love her.
We like each other. We care for one another. We love one another. We pray with/for one another. We read the Bible together. We enjoy one another. We are a blessing to one another.
Suz "gets" me. I "get" her. We click. We laugh ... every day ... and we look forward to our next conversation.
We are good to each other. Every day.
Every day.
~~
Not traditional.
Not perfect.
Merely fabulous.
That's how we look at it.
~~
Is the whole, wide world on board with us?
Of course not.
My friends have known for years that I'm "eccentric," as one astute author/friend said.
It's weirder for some of the folks in her life.
I am variously viewed as "the dude in Georgia" ... her "pen pal" ... "what's his name?" and "you've got to be kidding!"
So is everybody on both sides of your family thrilled with you and you-know-who?
Doubt it.
But this relationship has thrived for longer than my Temporary Marriage. That's something, right?
Chorus: "Yeah, the marriage that lasted as long as a tube of duck sauce, right."
Wow! Have you seen the Table of Condiments That Periodically Go Bad?
~~
Where was I?
Oh, yeah. I can't convince anybody that what Suz and I have is precious.
But, in some ways, it's better than having me take up valuable room on a crowded sofa asking why we're watching the Celtics and/or Red Sox when the Braves are also on.
You understand.
Besides, this way I can convince her that I'm tall, thin, young, handsome and wealthy.
Same for her.
:-)
~~
But for whatever it isn't ... it is precious and delightful to us.
I'll make the 1,047 mile trek to hug her, as God provides.
We'll meet each other's kids.
I'll make that awkward yawn/put-my-arm around-her move and gross out all our kids.
Some day.
Don't know when.
God knows.
~~
What I do know is this...
We're going to talk on the phone tonight.
We're going to be happy to hear each other's voice.
We're going to be interested in how each other's day went ... even though we've chatted a few times already.
We're going to pray for our kids. We're going to pray for one another ... and our loved ones.
We're going to read the Bible.
We're going to love and care for one another.
~
We're going to laugh, as we always do.
We're going to be thankful for one another.
~
Even if it's not perfect.
Even if it's only fabulous.
~
Then, we'll say "I love you!"
and "Goodnight"
and we'll sleep well ...
apart
knowing we're loved and happy
and thankful for God's gracious kindness.
Hope you're well.
Been so long since I've blogged that I spent the last half-hour trying to figure out my user name and password just to log in.
Four months.
Amazing how much can happen in 17 weeks or so.
Think you're stuck in a rut and "things will never get any better"? Nonsense. Your entire world could change tomorrow -- for better or worse.
***
Dad
Went to visit overnight a few weeks ago. Went back that Friday and stayed until Tuesday, while my brother spent time with his kids.
Dad and I had good times.
Drug his butt out of the house and meandered all over the countryside. Took him to Olive Garden and feasted. He had a slug of wine with dinner and dessert. Fun time. My Father's Day present to him.
We were out for five or six hours, I forget. All I remember is Dad was spent by the time we got back to his house. Exhausted. ~~ He flopped into his chair, popped on his TV and we watched westerns for a couple of hours.
This will only sound boring to people who do not miss their parents. If you do, you understand what a treasure it is to have a nice day with your dad. A fussless, anger-free meal and a ride in the country, reading signs like scenes from My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
"Chinese food!" "Motorcycle shop!" "Rock City!" "Bait shop ... worms in rear."
A blessed day, indeed.
Yup. We spent time at the Chickamauga Dam watching people try to catch fish.
Sitting quietly together. Watching trains and boats and walkers and bicyclists.
Stuff Dad doesn't see much outside his window.
No talk of politics or the economy or wars/rumors of wars.
Peaceful communion with the outdoors and one another.
Thank you, Lord.
***
Donna the Honda
Running strong.
337,000+ miles.
Finally figured out how to engage the cruise control with more regularity.
Grateful I was never arrested for harassing women on freeways when I would speed up to 80 mph, jab the cruise control buttons ... slow down to 50 mph ... speed up to 80 ... bang the dang buttons ... drift back to 50 ... terrorizing innocent people on the highway like some creep from The Twilight Zone ... back to 80 jabbing the $#(@$# buttons, and so forth.
A/C works and I get 28 mpg. Since one of the rear windows died in the down position, I use the sunroof less. Caution, fear or lack of faith? I dunno. If I'm not too far from home on clear days, I'm happy to open the roof up. I like the fresh air.
Don't drive much, except to church on Sundays. Honest. Otherwise I use ...
***
My Newer Motorcycle
Sold my 2001 Kawasaki Vulcan 800 for $2,200. Had 56,000 miles on it. Ran great and looked terrific.
Bought a 2005 Kawasaki Concours with 34,000 miles for just under $3,000.
Such a deal.
Detachable hard saddlebags. 1,000 cc high-performance engine. Three disc brakes. Mostly comfy. Insanely fast.
New, it went 0-60 in less than 4 seconds and 0-100 in 10.5 seconds. That's enough.
Have not once scraped my pegs or shaved my boot heels in curves.
Nice bike.
***
The Princess & The Boys
Had another sleepover with the Princess for her birthday. We drove Donna to an Appalachian Trail festival in North Carolina. Had a fabulous time.
Yup. Dinner at Waffle House. Our favorite.
Hope to spend time with her this summer, Lord willing. We'll see.
~~
Sang to Samuel, Ezra and Isaac this past week. Great kids. Just getting old enough to say "hello" and "goodbye" and "Papa" and one lone "I love you!"
What a deal.
God has been so kind.
***
Work and/or The Lack Thereof
I am now officially semi-retired.
Still looking for work.
Still working. Writing for a gentleman who owns three Web sites.
My job is to make him money by writing and posting material on his sites. Readers will, therefore, read our stuff, then click on ads and buy stuff. That might sound too simple, but it's what makes Google and Facebook zillions of dollars.
I love it.
A friend asked me where I get my material. The answer? You have to, that's all.
You comb the Internet for pertinent stories. You take pictures. You speak with people. You write a compelling story. You compose, post, proof and promote your work ... and you pray for God to bless.
After five months on the job income from the sites increased by 250%. My guess is that figure will increase, by God's grace, when I see the six month stats in a few days.
The best quote from my boss? "I wish I'd hired you years ago."
I earn 33% of what I used to, but I choose my hours and have a blast. Last week, for example, I went out for a ride with the police on a local lake. Hoped they'd let me drive the boat, play with the siren, fire warning shots and fish with their stun guns.
It was fun anyway.
Went to a rowing regatta and took pictures from inside the timing tower for another story. Then, had a good time at a big-time BBQ championship in town, tasting samples, meeting nice folks and taking pictures.
All free. All paid gigs. All business trips.
Went to a meeting to hear one of the state's highest officials speak. Got a nice picture of him. He was also fun enough to take a picture of the two of us together holding a goofy sign ... for my girlfriend.
***
My Girlfriend
Yup, we're official. So official that we're Facebook official.
Chorus: "So you have met her?"
Quiet. I'm writing here.
Chorus: "That's what we figured."
~~
OK. It's ... non-traditional.
Chorus: "No, it's screwy. That's not a girlfriend, that's a pen pal."
Have you been talking to her family?
Where was I?
~~
Oh. We've texted, e-mailed and spoken on the phone for a least an hour a day for the better part of six months.
She is the only person alive who always knows how I am, where I am, what's going on and who wants to make my life better.
Not that she's the only person who cares about me. But, well ... "they have their own lives," y'know?
~~
Suz would tell you that God has used me to bless and love her.
We like each other. We care for one another. We love one another. We pray with/for one another. We read the Bible together. We enjoy one another. We are a blessing to one another.
Suz "gets" me. I "get" her. We click. We laugh ... every day ... and we look forward to our next conversation.
We are good to each other. Every day.
Every day.
~~
Not traditional.
Not perfect.
Merely fabulous.
That's how we look at it.
~~
Is the whole, wide world on board with us?
Of course not.
My friends have known for years that I'm "eccentric," as one astute author/friend said.
It's weirder for some of the folks in her life.
I am variously viewed as "the dude in Georgia" ... her "pen pal" ... "what's his name?" and "you've got to be kidding!"
So is everybody on both sides of your family thrilled with you and you-know-who?
Doubt it.
But this relationship has thrived for longer than my Temporary Marriage. That's something, right?
Chorus: "Yeah, the marriage that lasted as long as a tube of duck sauce, right."
Wow! Have you seen the Table of Condiments That Periodically Go Bad?
~~
Where was I?
Oh, yeah. I can't convince anybody that what Suz and I have is precious.
But, in some ways, it's better than having me take up valuable room on a crowded sofa asking why we're watching the Celtics and/or Red Sox when the Braves are also on.
You understand.
Besides, this way I can convince her that I'm tall, thin, young, handsome and wealthy.
Same for her.
:-)
~~
But for whatever it isn't ... it is precious and delightful to us.
I'll make the 1,047 mile trek to hug her, as God provides.
We'll meet each other's kids.
I'll make that awkward yawn/put-my-arm around-her move and gross out all our kids.
Some day.
Don't know when.
God knows.
~~
What I do know is this...
We're going to talk on the phone tonight.
We're going to be happy to hear each other's voice.
We're going to be interested in how each other's day went ... even though we've chatted a few times already.
We're going to pray for our kids. We're going to pray for one another ... and our loved ones.
We're going to read the Bible.
We're going to love and care for one another.
~
We're going to laugh, as we always do.
We're going to be thankful for one another.
~
Even if it's not perfect.
Even if it's only fabulous.
~
Then, we'll say "I love you!"
and "Goodnight"
and we'll sleep well ...
apart
knowing we're loved and happy
and thankful for God's gracious kindness.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Fifty Days with TGFNC
Hi.
Hope you are well.
So much I wanna share, so I'll get right to it.
***
Not sure where to start. Life has been so amazing lately.
First of all, thanks for making my blog (better known as a "post") about my dad the most-read thing I've ever posted. He deserves it. Here's the link, if you missed it.
**
Want to say/write that I don't expose myself like this because I think you should. I only do so because I believe I should.
We all cringe and shudder at TMI posts. Yes, me too. But this is all about Openness & Honesty. I don't expect you to do the same.
I will say, however, that years ago BJ told me in reference to parenting, "Catch them doing something good!" Since the miserable years of pitiful parenting when the girls were little, I've tried adopting this attitude/skill.
Yes, I still fail miserably. Like the time I pitched a childish fit about not wanting to wear a tie at my daughter's wedding. [Insert Jewish accent here] "Such a jerk I can be!!! Oy!"
I want to go to people and tell them the good things I tell others about them. I also want to go to people and say those things that should be said directly to them, and not to others.
I want to say what needs to be said, especially if it is positive and affirming.
I'm thankful and grateful for the people in my life who encourage and inspire me to write. I will never come close to expressing myself as well as this author, but I will attempt to nail my goal of being Open & Honest with you.
OK?
***
Christmas
You're not going to believe this, but I actually spent much of Christmas Day with both my daughters and their families.
Met my most recent grandson for the first time. Held him and held him and held him, even though he's already the size of a pro football lineman. Big. Kid. Loves to be held. We were made for each other. For now, anyway. At some point, he's gonna have to hold me instead. Maybe another month or two.
**
"How much is woe?"
An old friend used to ask that question ... mostly in jest. Helped her stay true to the Lord. And her friends, I guess. Haven't seen/heard from her in almost 20 years. A casualty/spoil lost/won in a divorce.
I know how much "woe" is. Ready? Woe is not having your beloved granddaughter in your home -- even though she lives 70 miles away -- for a year.
But even woe has its limits.
Precisely one year -- to the day -- The Princess was here at my house again. God, her mother and step-father allowed her to return. On Christmas Night.
We had a blast. Stayed up until [insert bogus time here so I won't get in trouble] and watched Harry & the Hendersons and laughed and snacked.
Yes, I was magnanimous to the point of allowing her to beat me at Connect Four. No, I am not lying. Not me. Nope. Me? Lie??? Ha!
OK. I lied. This kid is SO SMART that there were times she had multiple ways to win with a single move -- and one of the moves would have given her a DOUBLE "connect four." Rotten kid.
Finally took a picture of her having two ways to beat me. She would have had three, but I cleverly placed my yellow checker at the upper right.
When she was SURE I wasn't trying hard enough -- and honked at me for "letting her win" -- I pretended she was right. Yup. That lasted until the next time she beat me.
And. We. Delighted ... in our time together.
*
Morning and mourning broke when the sun rose.
God entertained us with visitors from The Dancing Deer Forest.
We had lunch at our favorite restaurant -- at The Princess's favorite location. Because that's what grampas do.
Even if they get snippy about wearing ties.
**
My dad is OK. Dialysis causes more cramping. He's not sleeping all that well. And he has the normal maladies that a gentleman who turned 91 can expect.
I thank God for allowing us to gather on Christmas Eve and celebrate the 91st anniversary of his birth. Not all of his six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren could be there ... but all wished him well ... and all love him more than he knows.
***
Donna the Honda hit 333,000+ miles while driving through Atlanta on a stormy Friday night.
Yes, I thank God each time the car starts. No, I don't expect it to last forever. Yes, I expect God's love, protection and grace to endure forever. So I ain't skeered.
***
Forgotten how many times I've crashed and burned
[Yes, I'm getting to my 50th Anniversary. Sheesh! Be patient.]
as I've pitched my editing skills.
Used to find potential clients and go on their Internet sites. I'd look around for a few minutes. Invariably, I'd find a typo or two. I'd capture them and send the prospect a quick pitch with their original copy (and location on their site) and my proposed changes.
Yes, I thought that was a great idea.
CHORUS: "It wasn't. In fact, we think that was stupid. Do you really believe people will hire you for pointing out their mistakes? Don't you know that even the people at "the Christian" agency will stop speaking to you? We think you are SUCH a dope."
No, it didn't go as planned.
Until now.
HA!!!
Got a gig updating a gentleman's three websites. Just finishing up the first one now. Yes, I am being paid [more per hour than is being offered to attorneys through GA's DOL for temporary work].
No, it's not full-time. Yes, it's short-term.
Other word geeks turn celadon with envy when I tell them I am *paid* to rifle around Web sites on search-and-destroy missions eradicating typos and errors of all ilk and manner.
What. A. Deal.
***
Still isn't enough to pay the bills.
Still getting a bit of unemployment -- with my earned wages subtracted from the gross amount.
Still looking for full-time work.
Still not finding work.
Considering Plan S: Social Security.
Yes, I am old enough. (Although my pastor sincerely didn't believe it when I told him. That was nice.)
Going in for an intense meeting with the SS folks tomorrow.
Seems self-employed individuals cannot work more than 45 hours per month and collect SS benefits.
I have worked for almost 50 years, counting being a paperboy for the Times-Union newspaper in Rochester in the 60s. No such job anymore. No such paper anymore. Times have changed.
Retired people can earn $14,640/year and not diminish their SS benefits. Self-employed people can earn that much NET, but they have to work fewer than 45 hours per month.
Last week I concluded my work on a friend's book. My first look at the book was April 9th of last year. I put in at least a hundred hours on that project. Then I took a "final" look at all 15 chapters and two additional sections. Probably took another 35-45 hours over five or six days.
That's what I *love* doing. That's what I want to do in my retirement. That's how I want to supplement my SS benefits.
But the law seems to say I cannot pursue my dreams -- if I am paid -- for more than an average of two hours a day, six days a week. Or I will be ineligible for benefits. Even though I might only make 25% of the amount of money I am allowed to earn.
Sounds crazy. God would have me be honest, whether I want to or not.
Gotta earn more money.
Cannot sell my character.
Must. Survive.
***
Worlds Collide
So, we're all minding our own business.
Nobody's hanging around bars, joints, people you shouldn't hang around with, or any of that.
Casual conversation with a friend of a friend.
A few giggles. A few "likes."
And life changed.
Just.
Like.
That.
CHORUS: "Robert! No! Not again! Haven't you learned?"
**
Have you ever clicked with anyone?
No, not just the way I clicked with PJ and ended up at her house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, with her hubby and kids. More than just loving and all that.
No, not the kind of clicking I have with LHH, who knew she could open up and tell me stuff she needed to tell someone, but didn't know who. Only to thank me afterward.
Not like Nancy, who took me on a lunch date after church ... because we get along so well and so easily. (Thanks to her hubby, who paid.)
Not like my fishing buddy. Not like the guys I ride with. Not like friends I watch football with.
Not like my friend who has me listed as a contact person at her doctor because she knows she can count on me.
Not like ... anybody.
***
Dylan says "You can't be wise and in love at the same time."
Dr. Gary Chapman, famous for his Love Languages work, says screwy, goofy, la-la land infatuation lasts about 18 months. He also says that type of puppy/goofy love is something very similar to insanity.
CHORUS: "Yeah, but you're screwy, goofy and insane ALL the time."
**
I used to think I'd never [insert wording like "get into a relationship" here] with anyone who didn't meet the approval of PJ, JK, TP, DL, EJ and a bunch of other people.
Now I don't give a rip what they think.
Mostly.
Although it was affirming when Dad said, "Good for you! You deserve it! Everybody needs a playmate!"
Ha!
**
We can go for hours with no contact. Then we call/text at the same moment.
We can talk for hours and it seems like minutes.
My annoying habit of giving opinions/advice is something she likes.
She thanks God for my listening ear and care.
Best part? God answers our prayers for one another.
In amazing, specific ways.
***
CHORUS: "Don't tell us that you two ...."
No. Don't worry.
God is too wise to give us more than we can handle.
But when I hear her ringtone, it's prettier than my line spinning after a striper hits a topwater lure. Better than The Bike redlining on the way to The Tail of The Dragon. More comforting than any of the songs on Dylan's Blood on the Tracks.
CHORUS: "We think we're going to be sick."
Pavlov's dog has nothing on me when The Girl From the North Country and I connect.
It makes me happy. Happier than I have been in years.
Years of no kissing/touching and very few dates of any degree.
Long years. Lonesome, but not lonely years.
Now ...
life has changed.
***
TGFNC and I connect. We click. We love giving/receiving mutual attention and blessings.
Whatever "it" is ... we have "it."
***
From afar.
1,047 miles to be exact.
CHORUS: "Knew it! You're crazy, do you know that? Have you even MET her?
Well, not exactly.
Or ... to be more specific ... No.
CHORUS: "That did it. We're outta here."
Wait.
She's a Christian. She knows/loves God. Walks with Him. Wants to serve Him. Knows the heartache of divorce.
Did I mention we click?
CHORUS: "OK. That's the good news. What aren't you telling us?"
She has a bunch of kids. Really good kids. A couple are young and they need their dad.
She's WAY too young for me. Like, 65 when I'm 80. Don't have the heart to put her through that kind of ringer. But she says ...
CHORUS: "We will bet she likes snow. Right? She likes snow. Right?"
We both have so much baggage. Exes and errors.
Bills and layoffs. Fears and dreams.
Yes. She actually likes snow.
Aaarrrghhhhh.
CHORUS: "We knew it. Is she a rabid fan of Dylan or The Princess Bride?"
Did I mention she is beautiful?
OK. It would take a miracle. Happy?
Doesn't appear to be any way we'll ever connect.
Until we chat or text. Then there are no miles.
There are no obstacles. There are no issues.
CHORUS: "There is no sanity."
I know.
What we have is complicated.
But it's fabulous.
The best for both of us.
All it can be.
CHORUS: "Please don't say 'for now!'"
Only God knows the future.
**
We're not making promises we cannot keep.
We're thankful for what is ... and what isn't.
We know God loves us.
He knows we love one another.
CHORUS: "Do you actually believe you can love a person you've never met? Gag us..."
I don't believe other people can.
I just know I do.
So ... laugh ... scoff ... fear ... think the best or the worst.
*
Told her she could read this before it's published.
Meant it.
She said, "I trust you."
*
This is the way it is
on the 50th anniversary of the day
I kinda met
TGFNC.
CHORUS: "SECURITY!!! Somebody call 'Security!'"
*
Hey, all I ever promised you was Openness & Honesty.
This isn't "Twelve Ways to Live a Wise, Loveless Life!"
*
God knows our needs
our wants and desires.
CHORUS: "We know 'long-distance relationships' don't work!"
Nothing is perfect.
All I can say is I thank God for a lady who cares for me ... prays for me ... likes me ... and clicks with me. Whether it meets anyone's definition of love or a relationship or not. For someone to care for ... pray for ... laugh with.
She'd say the same.
***
"Thus far the Lord has helped me" says a favorite Bible verse.
Life has new twists and turns ... ups and downs ... and a new character.
CHORUS: "You're a character. Listen, be nice to this woman! She might not have good taste, but we don't doubt she's wonderful. Don't hurt her."
That's the deal.
**
Hope this didn't throw you for too much of a loop.
Not that I care.
:-)
Hope you are well.
So much I wanna share, so I'll get right to it.
***
Not sure where to start. Life has been so amazing lately.
First of all, thanks for making my blog (better known as a "post") about my dad the most-read thing I've ever posted. He deserves it. Here's the link, if you missed it.
**
Want to say/write that I don't expose myself like this because I think you should. I only do so because I believe I should.
We all cringe and shudder at TMI posts. Yes, me too. But this is all about Openness & Honesty. I don't expect you to do the same.
I will say, however, that years ago BJ told me in reference to parenting, "Catch them doing something good!" Since the miserable years of pitiful parenting when the girls were little, I've tried adopting this attitude/skill.
Yes, I still fail miserably. Like the time I pitched a childish fit about not wanting to wear a tie at my daughter's wedding. [Insert Jewish accent here] "Such a jerk I can be!!! Oy!"
I want to go to people and tell them the good things I tell others about them. I also want to go to people and say those things that should be said directly to them, and not to others.
I want to say what needs to be said, especially if it is positive and affirming.
I'm thankful and grateful for the people in my life who encourage and inspire me to write. I will never come close to expressing myself as well as this author, but I will attempt to nail my goal of being Open & Honest with you.
OK?
***
Christmas
You're not going to believe this, but I actually spent much of Christmas Day with both my daughters and their families.
Met my most recent grandson for the first time. Held him and held him and held him, even though he's already the size of a pro football lineman. Big. Kid. Loves to be held. We were made for each other. For now, anyway. At some point, he's gonna have to hold me instead. Maybe another month or two.
**
"How much is woe?"
An old friend used to ask that question ... mostly in jest. Helped her stay true to the Lord. And her friends, I guess. Haven't seen/heard from her in almost 20 years. A casualty/spoil lost/won in a divorce.
I know how much "woe" is. Ready? Woe is not having your beloved granddaughter in your home -- even though she lives 70 miles away -- for a year.
But even woe has its limits.
Precisely one year -- to the day -- The Princess was here at my house again. God, her mother and step-father allowed her to return. On Christmas Night.
We had a blast. Stayed up until [insert bogus time here so I won't get in trouble] and watched Harry & the Hendersons and laughed and snacked.
Yes, I was magnanimous to the point of allowing her to beat me at Connect Four. No, I am not lying. Not me. Nope. Me? Lie??? Ha!
OK. I lied. This kid is SO SMART that there were times she had multiple ways to win with a single move -- and one of the moves would have given her a DOUBLE "connect four." Rotten kid.
Finally took a picture of her having two ways to beat me. She would have had three, but I cleverly placed my yellow checker at the upper right.
When she was SURE I wasn't trying hard enough -- and honked at me for "letting her win" -- I pretended she was right. Yup. That lasted until the next time she beat me.
And. We. Delighted ... in our time together.
*
Morning and mourning broke when the sun rose.
God entertained us with visitors from The Dancing Deer Forest.
We had lunch at our favorite restaurant -- at The Princess's favorite location. Because that's what grampas do.
Even if they get snippy about wearing ties.
**
My dad is OK. Dialysis causes more cramping. He's not sleeping all that well. And he has the normal maladies that a gentleman who turned 91 can expect.
I thank God for allowing us to gather on Christmas Eve and celebrate the 91st anniversary of his birth. Not all of his six grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren could be there ... but all wished him well ... and all love him more than he knows.
***
Donna the Honda hit 333,000+ miles while driving through Atlanta on a stormy Friday night.
Yes, I thank God each time the car starts. No, I don't expect it to last forever. Yes, I expect God's love, protection and grace to endure forever. So I ain't skeered.
***
Forgotten how many times I've crashed and burned
[Yes, I'm getting to my 50th Anniversary. Sheesh! Be patient.]
as I've pitched my editing skills.
Used to find potential clients and go on their Internet sites. I'd look around for a few minutes. Invariably, I'd find a typo or two. I'd capture them and send the prospect a quick pitch with their original copy (and location on their site) and my proposed changes.
Yes, I thought that was a great idea.
CHORUS: "It wasn't. In fact, we think that was stupid. Do you really believe people will hire you for pointing out their mistakes? Don't you know that even the people at "the Christian" agency will stop speaking to you? We think you are SUCH a dope."
No, it didn't go as planned.
Until now.
HA!!!
Got a gig updating a gentleman's three websites. Just finishing up the first one now. Yes, I am being paid [more per hour than is being offered to attorneys through GA's DOL for temporary work].
No, it's not full-time. Yes, it's short-term.
Other word geeks turn celadon with envy when I tell them I am *paid* to rifle around Web sites on search-and-destroy missions eradicating typos and errors of all ilk and manner.
What. A. Deal.
***
Still isn't enough to pay the bills.
Still getting a bit of unemployment -- with my earned wages subtracted from the gross amount.
Still looking for full-time work.
Still not finding work.
Considering Plan S: Social Security.
Yes, I am old enough. (Although my pastor sincerely didn't believe it when I told him. That was nice.)
Going in for an intense meeting with the SS folks tomorrow.
Seems self-employed individuals cannot work more than 45 hours per month and collect SS benefits.
I have worked for almost 50 years, counting being a paperboy for the Times-Union newspaper in Rochester in the 60s. No such job anymore. No such paper anymore. Times have changed.
Retired people can earn $14,640/year and not diminish their SS benefits. Self-employed people can earn that much NET, but they have to work fewer than 45 hours per month.
Last week I concluded my work on a friend's book. My first look at the book was April 9th of last year. I put in at least a hundred hours on that project. Then I took a "final" look at all 15 chapters and two additional sections. Probably took another 35-45 hours over five or six days.
That's what I *love* doing. That's what I want to do in my retirement. That's how I want to supplement my SS benefits.
But the law seems to say I cannot pursue my dreams -- if I am paid -- for more than an average of two hours a day, six days a week. Or I will be ineligible for benefits. Even though I might only make 25% of the amount of money I am allowed to earn.
Sounds crazy. God would have me be honest, whether I want to or not.
Gotta earn more money.
Cannot sell my character.
Must. Survive.
***
Worlds Collide
So, we're all minding our own business.
Nobody's hanging around bars, joints, people you shouldn't hang around with, or any of that.
Casual conversation with a friend of a friend.
A few giggles. A few "likes."
And life changed.
Just.
Like.
That.
CHORUS: "Robert! No! Not again! Haven't you learned?"
**
Have you ever clicked with anyone?
No, not just the way I clicked with PJ and ended up at her house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, with her hubby and kids. More than just loving and all that.
No, not the kind of clicking I have with LHH, who knew she could open up and tell me stuff she needed to tell someone, but didn't know who. Only to thank me afterward.
Not like Nancy, who took me on a lunch date after church ... because we get along so well and so easily. (Thanks to her hubby, who paid.)
Not like my fishing buddy. Not like the guys I ride with. Not like friends I watch football with.
Not like my friend who has me listed as a contact person at her doctor because she knows she can count on me.
Not like ... anybody.
***
Dylan says "You can't be wise and in love at the same time."
Dr. Gary Chapman, famous for his Love Languages work, says screwy, goofy, la-la land infatuation lasts about 18 months. He also says that type of puppy/goofy love is something very similar to insanity.
CHORUS: "Yeah, but you're screwy, goofy and insane ALL the time."
**
I used to think I'd never [insert wording like "get into a relationship" here] with anyone who didn't meet the approval of PJ, JK, TP, DL, EJ and a bunch of other people.
Now I don't give a rip what they think.
Mostly.
Although it was affirming when Dad said, "Good for you! You deserve it! Everybody needs a playmate!"
Ha!
**
We can go for hours with no contact. Then we call/text at the same moment.
We can talk for hours and it seems like minutes.
My annoying habit of giving opinions/advice is something she likes.
She thanks God for my listening ear and care.
Best part? God answers our prayers for one another.
In amazing, specific ways.
***
CHORUS: "Don't tell us that you two ...."
No. Don't worry.
God is too wise to give us more than we can handle.
But when I hear her ringtone, it's prettier than my line spinning after a striper hits a topwater lure. Better than The Bike redlining on the way to The Tail of The Dragon. More comforting than any of the songs on Dylan's Blood on the Tracks.
CHORUS: "We think we're going to be sick."
Pavlov's dog has nothing on me when The Girl From the North Country and I connect.
It makes me happy. Happier than I have been in years.
Years of no kissing/touching and very few dates of any degree.
Long years. Lonesome, but not lonely years.
Now ...
life has changed.
***
TGFNC and I connect. We click. We love giving/receiving mutual attention and blessings.
Whatever "it" is ... we have "it."
***
From afar.
1,047 miles to be exact.
CHORUS: "Knew it! You're crazy, do you know that? Have you even MET her?
Well, not exactly.
Or ... to be more specific ... No.
CHORUS: "That did it. We're outta here."
Wait.
She's a Christian. She knows/loves God. Walks with Him. Wants to serve Him. Knows the heartache of divorce.
Did I mention we click?
CHORUS: "OK. That's the good news. What aren't you telling us?"
She has a bunch of kids. Really good kids. A couple are young and they need their dad.
She's WAY too young for me. Like, 65 when I'm 80. Don't have the heart to put her through that kind of ringer. But she says ...
CHORUS: "We will bet she likes snow. Right? She likes snow. Right?"
We both have so much baggage. Exes and errors.
Bills and layoffs. Fears and dreams.
Yes. She actually likes snow.
Aaarrrghhhhh.
CHORUS: "We knew it. Is she a rabid fan of Dylan or The Princess Bride?"
Did I mention she is beautiful?
OK. It would take a miracle. Happy?
Doesn't appear to be any way we'll ever connect.
Until we chat or text. Then there are no miles.
There are no obstacles. There are no issues.
CHORUS: "There is no sanity."
I know.
What we have is complicated.
But it's fabulous.
The best for both of us.
All it can be.
CHORUS: "Please don't say 'for now!'"
Only God knows the future.
**
We're not making promises we cannot keep.
We're thankful for what is ... and what isn't.
We know God loves us.
He knows we love one another.
CHORUS: "Do you actually believe you can love a person you've never met? Gag us..."
I don't believe other people can.
I just know I do.
So ... laugh ... scoff ... fear ... think the best or the worst.
*
Told her she could read this before it's published.
Meant it.
She said, "I trust you."
*
This is the way it is
on the 50th anniversary of the day
I kinda met
TGFNC.
CHORUS: "SECURITY!!! Somebody call 'Security!'"
*
Hey, all I ever promised you was Openness & Honesty.
This isn't "Twelve Ways to Live a Wise, Loveless Life!"
*
God knows our needs
our wants and desires.
CHORUS: "We know 'long-distance relationships' don't work!"
Nothing is perfect.
All I can say is I thank God for a lady who cares for me ... prays for me ... likes me ... and clicks with me. Whether it meets anyone's definition of love or a relationship or not. For someone to care for ... pray for ... laugh with.
She'd say the same.
***
"Thus far the Lord has helped me" says a favorite Bible verse.
Life has new twists and turns ... ups and downs ... and a new character.
CHORUS: "You're a character. Listen, be nice to this woman! She might not have good taste, but we don't doubt she's wonderful. Don't hurt her."
That's the deal.
**
Hope this didn't throw you for too much of a loop.
Not that I care.
:-)
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
My Dad's Better than Your Dad
Hi.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy New Year.
Hope you are well. At least as well as I am, which is pretty darn good.
***
Dad
Dad turns 91 on Saturday.
Call him on the phone and he sounds younger than my 61 years. He's WAY smarter than me (or you). WAY better memory than mine (or yours).
Way nicer than me. Maybe you. (Probably.)
Dad is a kind man.
*
Lost count of the times/places he's been in the hospital this year. Many. His nurses and doctors ALWAYS tell us what a delight he is. Even when he's sick or in pain or "wondering what the hell is going on."
Dad is loved by one and all.
I'd like to be more like Dad.
*
Dad has aged this year. Dialysis sucks the impurities from his blood three times a week, and a bit of life too.
But Dad never complains. He is grateful toward those who love and care for him. Doesn't want to be a burden. Doesn't manipulate or bicker. Zero guilt trips. Doesn't make things worse.
I'd like to be more like Dad.
*
Dad lives 150 miles away, over the rivers and through the woods. I try to see him at least once a month.
We sat by Chickamauga Dam the last time we were together.
Water was being released.
Could you have fun watching water with your dad?
I can.
We had a good laugh at this house.
Nice view. Crummy parking.
Never a burden to hang around with Dad. He naturally knows how to get along. Not in a phony, chameleon way. He's himself with two people or twenty. He's easy to get along with and he knows how to express himself without being offensive.
I'd like to be more like Dad.
*
Dad always makes me steak and eggs when I visit. Big steaks. Delicious, made his special way.
Yes. Dad wears a skirt. Took me a long time to deal with it.
Sure, he calls it a "lava-lava," but I know the truth.
His decades in Hawaii tainted him.
But I hope I get to make my kids breakfast when they visit me in 20 years.
*
Yeah, he lived in Hawaii for 30 years or so. Tough, but somebody has to, right?
Here's a picture I took at sunrise from the back door of his condo on Ala Moana Blvd, next to the Ala Wai Canal.
His front porch, known as a "lanai" in Never-Never Land, had a pretty cool view too.
That building in the middle on the left is Dad's yacht club. Bunch of fun Hawaiian rednecks. Great. Times. Just beer and burgers in Paradise.
Watched the Braves win the World Series there in 1995.
Idyllic spot. Beyond a happy place.
Forgot how many times I went to see him. Many.
I always loved watching the happenings at Ala Wai Marine.
I never got tired of watching them work as I rested on the lanai.
Dad and I always began the day the same way. Reading the paper and talking about what we read.
Sounds stupid; but, delightful memories. Just hanging out.
Even though he wore a skirt.
I love Dad, but I don't want to wear a skirt.
*
Dad didn't always live on Ala Moana Blvd.
He was the head of the condo honchos who sold the building to investors. Afterward, Dad leased a real-live penthouse overlooking Diamond Head.
That. Was. Nice.
When people visited, I couldn't wait for them to ask for directions to the bathroom. I'd tell them, "Go down the hallway ... and take the first, second or third door on your right."
Yup. Three in a row. Don't ask me why.
Dad's neighbor penthousers used to come to his place for the view. His was unobstructed. Theirs wasn't.
Ever seen the movie, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"? Remember the mountain with all the vertical striations -- like finger marks down the sides? Diamond Head is filled with such crevices. Used to sit for hours on Dad's lanai watching the sun illuminate and hide the holes in the side of the mountain.
Very cool.
I was there once when a president (Clinton?) came to town. I went up to the roof and watched the helicopters fly in and land. Laughed ever since about how the reporters were in the first couple of helicopters. Just in case. Ha!
*
Diamond Head is a cool place to hike. The top of the old volcano was blown into the sea. Read Psalm 46 at the top once:
1) God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2) Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea;
Yup. God is more faithful than mountains.
*
When the housing market crashed, Dad moved back to the condo on Ala Moana -- on a higher floor.
Perfect spot.
Dad's life has been amazingly blessed.
I do not believe in luck, but if I did ... Dad would be its poster child.
*
Is this getting too long?
Not that I care.
My dad's worth reading about.
I hope I will be someday.
*
Dad and I have not always been close.
I grew up in Rochester, NY.
Dad left for the bright lights and big city when I was young.
Happens.
Didn't see him much until I was in college.
That's when he called to chat.
I was rude. Hostile, really.
Told him he didn't love me.
That he didn't even know me.
I was right. And I was wrong.
That night he booked a flight for me to visit him in Marin County.
Helicopter from SFO and all.
Didn't want to go. My girlfriend encouraged me to go west.
She drove me to the airport, where I got drunk. Poured me onto the plane to Chicago. Kissed me goodbye.
Got bumped in Chicago to first-class on later a flight. Learned the words "Leave the bottle, please" from the guy next to me. We *really* got drunk.
That's when flying first-class was like flying first-class.
Landed at SFO. Found the helicopter. Sobered up as I devoured the view of San Francisco, SF Bay and Marin County. Stupendous.
Dad met me. With my step-mother, Patsy.
Interesting.
Moved there not long afterward.
Whatever happened before didn't matter.
I fell in love with my dad. And Patsy.
And San Francisco.
And Sam's Anchor Cafe in Tiburon (where I met my first tattooed lady).
Played pinball and laughed with friends most nights at Sam's.
Good times on the bay.
Now, it's all snooty with uber-preppies in sailboats and dudes in Cigarette boats.
But it'll always be a dive to me.
Where the cook hung out with Gracie Slick
and I met the daughter of the head of the Republican Party.
Merry old times.
*
Moved to Alaska a year or so later. Then, NYC, DC, and back home.
That's when Dad moved to Hawaii.
*
Dad has been everywhere. I'm thankful he recorded some of his travels and memories for us a few years back. Fascinating to listen to.
Dad loves to cruise. Took one from Sydney, Australia to Singapore.
Honestly, do you even know where Singapore is? Or if it's a city or a country? I didn't.
Dad's been there a bunch of times. Even has a favorite restaurant.
Dad has some pretty cool pals.
Yup. He and Jack Daniels are lifelong companions.
Dad has influential friends too. Like the guy who helped save the Apollo 13 mission. (Played by the geek in Apollo 13.)
Seriously. Here's a picture signed by everybody but the Wright brothers for his contribution to saving that mission.
Here's April, one of my favorite friends of Dad's. She's a travel wonk in Honolulu. She can get you into any place, any time. Even knows the dives where you eat the world's best curry with the locals at picnic tables all schmooshed together.
April got us on a dinner cruise -- for free, of course.
We were treated like royalty.
We were so close to the hula dancer, I had to wipe her sweat off my glasses. (Took much longer to wipe the smile off my face.)
I wanna have friends like Dad's.
*
We dragged Dad out of paradise and back to America a few years ago. I'm amazed he still speaks to us.
He lived life out there to the max. Didn't own a suit or a pair of shoes. Drove a beat-up old car that lost its shine decades ago. Spent his money traveling and on nice places to live. And on helping us visit him.
*
Dad isn't able to use the stairs at my brother's (MB) house.
They're brutal.
Always reminds me of that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where Indy takes a step of faith. Takes faith and a steady hand to descend these suckers.
Dad loves using an electric buggy in stores.
(Can't say the same for the poor people he mows down while shopping for my steaks and Diet Dr Pepper.)
My Dad is great.
I love him.
And he loves me.
He'd love you too, I'll bet.
I wanna be loved like my Dad.
Even by my kids.
Even if I screw up.
Y'know?
*
Dad's at MB's now with my sister-in-law (SIL).
Dad's still reading the paper
and being loved on by MB and SIL.
*
Can you imagine moving in with your son and daughter-in-law and being welcomed and loved? Dad is cherished more than you imagine. Not just emotions or fluffiness.
Love in the form of scuffed up wooden floors that matter less than Dad. MB + SIL gave Dad their bedroom and downstairs bathroom.
When Dad needs to see a doctor? BAM! They take him.
When he needs something at the store? BAM! He's got it.
Godly, Christian love from family members who know and experience the love of God and salvation through Jesus Christ.
When Dad needs a diet that is beyond comprehension?
My SIL sees that it's done.
Even over Dad's mini-grumbling ...
because my SIL loves Dad most.
*
When I visit? He gets whatever he wants.
Even if it's not good for him.
Dad wouldn't have lasted this long with me caring for him.
SIL has stretched out Dad's years
and I will never be able to thank her enough.
*
Because of SIL, we'll celebrate Dad's 91st birthday this week.
We'll be happy and thankful for him
and all our days together.
And we won't think of the holes Dad will leave in our hearts when he's no longer with us.
Nothing and no one will take Dad's place.
Dad makes things better.
I wanna be like Dad.
*
Not dealing well with your folks?
Just
Get
Over
It.
Generations are meant to love and forgive one another.
As all the John Wayne movies Dad and I have watched together say, "Don't burn daylight."
I cannot thank God enough for these years, months, weeks, days and hours with Dad.
And I can't wait to celebrate his birth and life on Christmas Eve.
*
Dad's not my savior. He's not perfect.
But people you really love don't have to be.
Y'know?
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy New Year.
Hope you are well. At least as well as I am, which is pretty darn good.
***
Dad
Dad turns 91 on Saturday.
Call him on the phone and he sounds younger than my 61 years. He's WAY smarter than me (or you). WAY better memory than mine (or yours).
Way nicer than me. Maybe you. (Probably.)
Dad is a kind man.
*
Lost count of the times/places he's been in the hospital this year. Many. His nurses and doctors ALWAYS tell us what a delight he is. Even when he's sick or in pain or "wondering what the hell is going on."
Dad is loved by one and all.
I'd like to be more like Dad.
*
Dad has aged this year. Dialysis sucks the impurities from his blood three times a week, and a bit of life too.
But Dad never complains. He is grateful toward those who love and care for him. Doesn't want to be a burden. Doesn't manipulate or bicker. Zero guilt trips. Doesn't make things worse.
I'd like to be more like Dad.
*
Dad lives 150 miles away, over the rivers and through the woods. I try to see him at least once a month.
We sat by Chickamauga Dam the last time we were together.
Water was being released.
Could you have fun watching water with your dad?
I can.
We had a good laugh at this house.
Nice view. Crummy parking.
Never a burden to hang around with Dad. He naturally knows how to get along. Not in a phony, chameleon way. He's himself with two people or twenty. He's easy to get along with and he knows how to express himself without being offensive.
I'd like to be more like Dad.
*
Dad always makes me steak and eggs when I visit. Big steaks. Delicious, made his special way.
Yes. Dad wears a skirt. Took me a long time to deal with it.
Sure, he calls it a "lava-lava," but I know the truth.
His decades in Hawaii tainted him.
But I hope I get to make my kids breakfast when they visit me in 20 years.
*
Yeah, he lived in Hawaii for 30 years or so. Tough, but somebody has to, right?
Here's a picture I took at sunrise from the back door of his condo on Ala Moana Blvd, next to the Ala Wai Canal.
His front porch, known as a "lanai" in Never-Never Land, had a pretty cool view too.
That building in the middle on the left is Dad's yacht club. Bunch of fun Hawaiian rednecks. Great. Times. Just beer and burgers in Paradise.
Watched the Braves win the World Series there in 1995.
Idyllic spot. Beyond a happy place.
Forgot how many times I went to see him. Many.
I always loved watching the happenings at Ala Wai Marine.
I never got tired of watching them work as I rested on the lanai.
Dad and I always began the day the same way. Reading the paper and talking about what we read.
Sounds stupid; but, delightful memories. Just hanging out.
Even though he wore a skirt.
I love Dad, but I don't want to wear a skirt.
*
Dad didn't always live on Ala Moana Blvd.
He was the head of the condo honchos who sold the building to investors. Afterward, Dad leased a real-live penthouse overlooking Diamond Head.
That. Was. Nice.
When people visited, I couldn't wait for them to ask for directions to the bathroom. I'd tell them, "Go down the hallway ... and take the first, second or third door on your right."
Yup. Three in a row. Don't ask me why.
Dad's neighbor penthousers used to come to his place for the view. His was unobstructed. Theirs wasn't.
Ever seen the movie, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind"? Remember the mountain with all the vertical striations -- like finger marks down the sides? Diamond Head is filled with such crevices. Used to sit for hours on Dad's lanai watching the sun illuminate and hide the holes in the side of the mountain.
Very cool.
I was there once when a president (Clinton?) came to town. I went up to the roof and watched the helicopters fly in and land. Laughed ever since about how the reporters were in the first couple of helicopters. Just in case. Ha!
*
Diamond Head is a cool place to hike. The top of the old volcano was blown into the sea. Read Psalm 46 at the top once:
1) God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2) Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change
And though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea;
Yup. God is more faithful than mountains.
*
When the housing market crashed, Dad moved back to the condo on Ala Moana -- on a higher floor.
Perfect spot.
Dad's life has been amazingly blessed.
I do not believe in luck, but if I did ... Dad would be its poster child.
*
Is this getting too long?
Not that I care.
My dad's worth reading about.
I hope I will be someday.
*
Dad and I have not always been close.
I grew up in Rochester, NY.
Dad left for the bright lights and big city when I was young.
Happens.
Didn't see him much until I was in college.
That's when he called to chat.
I was rude. Hostile, really.
Told him he didn't love me.
That he didn't even know me.
I was right. And I was wrong.
That night he booked a flight for me to visit him in Marin County.
Helicopter from SFO and all.
Didn't want to go. My girlfriend encouraged me to go west.
She drove me to the airport, where I got drunk. Poured me onto the plane to Chicago. Kissed me goodbye.
Got bumped in Chicago to first-class on later a flight. Learned the words "Leave the bottle, please" from the guy next to me. We *really* got drunk.
That's when flying first-class was like flying first-class.
Landed at SFO. Found the helicopter. Sobered up as I devoured the view of San Francisco, SF Bay and Marin County. Stupendous.
Dad met me. With my step-mother, Patsy.
Interesting.
Moved there not long afterward.
Whatever happened before didn't matter.
I fell in love with my dad. And Patsy.
And San Francisco.
And Sam's Anchor Cafe in Tiburon (where I met my first tattooed lady).
Played pinball and laughed with friends most nights at Sam's.
Good times on the bay.
Now, it's all snooty with uber-preppies in sailboats and dudes in Cigarette boats.
But it'll always be a dive to me.
Where the cook hung out with Gracie Slick
and I met the daughter of the head of the Republican Party.
Merry old times.
*
Moved to Alaska a year or so later. Then, NYC, DC, and back home.
That's when Dad moved to Hawaii.
*
Dad has been everywhere. I'm thankful he recorded some of his travels and memories for us a few years back. Fascinating to listen to.
Dad loves to cruise. Took one from Sydney, Australia to Singapore.
Honestly, do you even know where Singapore is? Or if it's a city or a country? I didn't.
Dad's been there a bunch of times. Even has a favorite restaurant.
Dad has some pretty cool pals.
Yup. He and Jack Daniels are lifelong companions.
Dad has influential friends too. Like the guy who helped save the Apollo 13 mission. (Played by the geek in Apollo 13.)
Seriously. Here's a picture signed by everybody but the Wright brothers for his contribution to saving that mission.
Here's April, one of my favorite friends of Dad's. She's a travel wonk in Honolulu. She can get you into any place, any time. Even knows the dives where you eat the world's best curry with the locals at picnic tables all schmooshed together.
April got us on a dinner cruise -- for free, of course.
We were treated like royalty.
We were so close to the hula dancer, I had to wipe her sweat off my glasses. (Took much longer to wipe the smile off my face.)
I wanna have friends like Dad's.
*
We dragged Dad out of paradise and back to America a few years ago. I'm amazed he still speaks to us.
He lived life out there to the max. Didn't own a suit or a pair of shoes. Drove a beat-up old car that lost its shine decades ago. Spent his money traveling and on nice places to live. And on helping us visit him.
*
Dad isn't able to use the stairs at my brother's (MB) house.
They're brutal.
Always reminds me of that scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where Indy takes a step of faith. Takes faith and a steady hand to descend these suckers.
Dad loves using an electric buggy in stores.
(Can't say the same for the poor people he mows down while shopping for my steaks and Diet Dr Pepper.)
My Dad is great.
I love him.
And he loves me.
He'd love you too, I'll bet.
I wanna be loved like my Dad.
Even by my kids.
Even if I screw up.
Y'know?
*
Dad's at MB's now with my sister-in-law (SIL).
Dad's still reading the paper
and being loved on by MB and SIL.
*
Can you imagine moving in with your son and daughter-in-law and being welcomed and loved? Dad is cherished more than you imagine. Not just emotions or fluffiness.
Love in the form of scuffed up wooden floors that matter less than Dad. MB + SIL gave Dad their bedroom and downstairs bathroom.
When Dad needs to see a doctor? BAM! They take him.
When he needs something at the store? BAM! He's got it.
Godly, Christian love from family members who know and experience the love of God and salvation through Jesus Christ.
When Dad needs a diet that is beyond comprehension?
My SIL sees that it's done.
Even over Dad's mini-grumbling ...
because my SIL loves Dad most.
*
When I visit? He gets whatever he wants.
Even if it's not good for him.
Dad wouldn't have lasted this long with me caring for him.
SIL has stretched out Dad's years
and I will never be able to thank her enough.
*
Because of SIL, we'll celebrate Dad's 91st birthday this week.
We'll be happy and thankful for him
and all our days together.
And we won't think of the holes Dad will leave in our hearts when he's no longer with us.
Nothing and no one will take Dad's place.
Dad makes things better.
I wanna be like Dad.
*
Not dealing well with your folks?
Just
Get
Over
It.
Generations are meant to love and forgive one another.
As all the John Wayne movies Dad and I have watched together say, "Don't burn daylight."
I cannot thank God enough for these years, months, weeks, days and hours with Dad.
And I can't wait to celebrate his birth and life on Christmas Eve.
*
Dad's not my savior. He's not perfect.
But people you really love don't have to be.
Y'know?
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