Old Friends

Story Number 1:

Got a text from my friend Phil Friday night. 

We stay in pretty constant contact. Sometimes texting 2 or 3 times a week, sometimes not for weeks, but fairly regularly, 

He lives in Massachusetts from May to December, Florida from late December to mid-May. So May to December is the sweet spot - that is when we can actually see each other. We don't get together as often as we'd like to but at least we do get together. I have a feeling we are going to do a lot more this year - Covid and cancer are great motivators.

In fact......................plans are afoot for us to visit Nasville in the fall. Just the boys. Pretty psyched about that. 

I enjoy the night texts the best.

Phil enjoys his wine and, as the night ages, he switches to premium bourbon. He typically texts me around 10 or 11. I am usually sipping on premium whiskey by then. We tend to be more open emotionally with each other, and more insane under those conditions.

His text read: "How's my buddy doing? Miss you, bro. Hope you're well." Those words went straight to my heart. His deep concern for me has forced me to understand that I underestimated the power of our friendship. Which is saying a lot because I have deep appreciation for our friendship.

Story Number 2:

Had a long phone conversation yesterday with another old friend of mine - Steve W. I have known Steve for something like 10 or 12 years. I am not exactly sure of the time frame, but then again I am not exactly sure what I had for breakfast 30 minutes ago either.

He and I were two fifths of an insane crew that worked together in a NH state liquor store back in the day. The job sucked but we were five insane guys who spent a lot of time laughing. A LOT. And we just didn't give a shit. We were famously irreverent.

We don't talk often. Steve lives in Florida now so I never get to see him.

He reads my blog so he contacted me to see how I am doing with this annoying cancer bullshit. We ended up enjoying a long conversation covering every topic under the sun. Honest conversation, lots of laughter.

I live for that.

At the end of the call we told each other we love each other. I don't think we ever did that before. Again, I could be wrong, who the hell knows.

His words went straight to my heart.

Ridiculous Fact About Me:

Phil's text and Steve's words brought tears to my eyes. Because in my heart I don't feel worthy of their respect and their love. It is a twisted truth of my nature, but I have always felt this way in general. Every time somebody shows me their love I feel unworthy.

Now, my brain is coming around - I am worthy of their respect and love, as they are of mine. I know this intellectually. I know it for a fact. But the inferiority bullshit is so deeply ingrained in my heart that my immediate reaction is a sense of surpirse that someone could care so much about me.

So for now, as long as I listen to my brain and not my heart I will be ok. When my heart catches up with my brain I will be able to handle situations like this as a normal person would.

The real point of all this is that I am so lucky to have friends like this in my life. They are not family - they are not obligated to give a shit about me, but they do.

They make me feel good, they make me feel better.

And I will take a little credit for these friendships, that are rock solid.

Much like George Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life, I am slowly waking up to the fact that my life has actually impacted other peoples' lives. 

I am in their lives, they are in mine.

Period. End of story.

Not Even Snow...............

Not even snow can ruin my Saturday morning glow.

Rolled out of bed yesterday morning to my Eventual Destination of Peace.

The usual - Carol sleeping, me in the recliner, cup of coffee, book, Maka. It was snowing. I looked out at the snow passively. I was at peace.

My life has settled into two warring factions for now - The Job and My Life.

I just can't handle the job. It pisses me off. I try to silently chant either of two mantras that I rely on for calm when I get angry or stressed, but these words in my head -  "Kill that son of a bitch" -  override the good intent of the mantra.

But when Saturday morning rolls around the sense of peace is enormous. And the contrast between Job Anger and Life Peace has been amplified by all the good work I am doing for my brain.

This is called progress.

Used to be, time off was not really therapeutic for me. I would stew in unhappiness and marinate in whiskey. Torture myself needlessly until it was time to go back to work for a more focused version of torture.

I had a blog entry simmering in my brain about how vacations and meditation do not "take." You know, you go off on vacation for a week, sit in the sun, sip on delectable cocktails, feast on fabulous meals and generally be a human being. But that first day back at work is instantaneous Hell.

With meditation I have found it amusing that I can take myself to a peaceful place and feel so good, but then go downstairs, open the fridge and find that Carol has placed the half and half in front of my yogurt and be immediately pissed. I assumed that meditation doesn't take.

But the more I meditate the more I find myself, in random moments, smiling in oases of peace, contentment and even.............................................HAPPINESS.

Meditation does take.

This explains how I can feel happy even when it is snowing.

Of course the fact that I am out of work for 4 and 1/2 days is a contributing factor but I know deep down that it is more than that. This is because happiness and contentment are alien emotions to me. When I randomly experience them my brain perks up and asks "What the hell is going on here?"

This has been happening more and more.

The signs are there. My battered brain is on the mend and I am helping it along.

There is hope for me yet.

My Man James Clear

I get a weekly email from James Clear that includes helpful ideas for re-wiring your life, inspirational quotes from all kinds of people, and one question meant to electro-start your brain.

One of this week's ideas:

"Clarity is the elimination of mental clutter

Agility is the elimination of physical clutter

Tranquility is the elimination of spiritual clutter"

I am working hard on all three but especially on Clarity and Tranquility.

This week's one question:

From venture capitalist and executive coach Jerry Colonna:

"How are you complicit in creating the conditions you say you don't want?"

BOOM! Holy shit, man - I can identify with that 100%. (But I am working on it).

 

Mango Tree (And More)

Just driving home from doing mundane deeds - Bob Marley pops up on Sirius - "Redemption Song."

Love the song.

"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery

  None but ourselves can free our minds"

I have heard those lines hundreds of times but today they knocked me for a loop. I drove off the road and plowed head on into a mango tree - but I kept singing.

Perspective is a victim of where your head is at at any given time. I am beginning to free myself from mental slavery and it is a powerful feeling. A positive feeling. My perspective has been skewed into uncharted waters.

My mind was highjacked by Demons and held against its will for many decades. It was inside my skull but didn't really belong to me. The mental disciplines I am practicing now are having concrete effect so I kind of don't know who the hell I am. I actually feel happy and confident from time to time. More and more frequently.

It hit me last Saturday when I was driving to the dump with a side trip planned to the grocery store. I was feeling happy and completely calm. What?

Please understand - I consider myself to be a Superior Being - someone who should never be required to do annoying chores. Used to be I would be pissed off the whole time I was out and wouldn't settle down until I got home - where I could return to hiding from life.

Just now I was out doing errands on the day before I go back to work. That violates a taboo I have adhered to for a long time. On the day before, I must stay at home and inject maximum calm into my soul. The hope is that I will carry that calm into the workplace and increase my chances of survival.

It never works but I do it anyway.

Today's errands did not ruin my day. Who knew?

So I hear Bob Marley's words - for the 800th time - and today they hit me like a shockwave, because they relate to exactly what I am doing - emancipating myself from mental slavery.

This is what I love about songs and poetry - they have the power to move you, and they can mean different things at different times. You don't read a poem just once. If it rocks you, you read it over and over again over the years, and as your life changes the meaning changes.

Songs and poetry are so much than words and music - they are magic, they are inspiration, they are emotion - they are living, breathing things.

Within half an hour  - or less - of going in to work tomorrow I will want to decapitate every customer that walks through that door. And some of my co-workers too. I will hunger to blow up my phone with Semtex. Thankfully, Wednesdays are only four hour days. Still, I typically strut in and limp out.

But then I have to do it again for two more days. Two 49 hour days.

But right now I feel supreme. Absolutely good and invincible.

And, truth be told, I carry around some meditation techniques in my head now, that I silently resort to at work that just may prevent me from being accused, tried, and convicted of 2nd degree murder (although I would consider it justifiable homicide).

Personal change, man - a complicated concept.

Who am I?

Hmmmmmmm.....................

 "The list goes on and on, but at its heart is the fact that we live largely artificial lives, filled with plentiful but insipid substitutes for the types of experiences that bring more solid and long-lasting well being."

From an interview of Dr. Charles Raison in The Sun Magazine regarding the topic of depression.

I've Got A Friend

 "If the sky above you grows dark and full of clouds,

  and that old north wind begins to blow,

  keep your head together, and call my name out loud,

  soon you'll hear me knocking at your door."

From "You've Got A Friend", by Carole King

My friend Phil is my oldest friend in the world - we have been friends since the second grade. We have been very close friends for around 60 years. We are still in regular contact and get together 2 or 3 times a year.

Our relationship falls into that magic category where, no matter how big a gap there is between us seeing each other, we automatically fall back into our rhythm - no awkwardness, no bullshit. Honest conversation, easy laughter.

It is very comforting.

I was talking to him recently and told him I have prostate cancer. Gave him the whole history going back two years, which he knew nothing about, even though we have spoken many times during that period. He was pissed.

He angrily said: "You never tell me anything." I was taken aback by that, but his anger brought home to me just how valuable this friendship is.

Here's how my mind works. So many people will tell you the story of their lives at the drop of a hat. You say "Wow, what a gorgeous day it is." They say "I have prostate cancer." 

That ain't me.

I tell my family. After that the only way anybody finds out is through a random process. In other words, I told my bosses about it because the radiation will be a major disruption to my work schedule. If they mention it to co-workers and they ask me about it that's fine - I will talk about it.

But I don't volunteer the information. Someone asks me how I'm doing as a part of general conversation, I say "fine" - that's it.

That's just the way I am.

But I do feel bad about not keeping Phil posted. Learned a lesson. The man cares about me. That is a precious gift and should be protected.

I called him when I got the details about how treatment is gonna go. The next day he called me to tell me he has a friend who runs a charitable organization that donates money to cancer patients, to help them through it. Phil spoke to him, told him what Carol has been through and what I am about to go through, and the organization decided to donate $5,000 to me. Five thousand dollars.

I was blown away.

I told Phil Medicare has great coverage and we could probably handle the rest and I didn't need the money.

He told me to take the money and use it for lost work days, gas money to and from the hospital, incidentals etc.

I said I'll take it but if I don't use it I'll give it back.

He said "Take the fucking money and keep it."

We got the check 2 days later.

I am not measuring our friendship in dollars and cents. My point is that he was so upset and so worried about me that he was compelled to do something to help me out. He wanted to make my struggle easier.

I was truly humbled.

We text pretty regularly but now he always asks how I am feeling.

He cares. Deeply.

Friendship is special. You don't choose your family. I am lucky to have a magnificent family. You do choose your friends.

And if a friendship endures, it is through mutual admiration, love and respect. You don't stay in touch with someone for 60 years if they are an asshole. Friendship is an incredible thing.

I know how lucky I am. My family is magic in my life. Pure joy and fun and pride in every moment.

Phil is a special guy. Simply put - we just get along. We click. We have had so much fun together over the years. Stuff we reminisce about. Stuff we laugh about. More fun to come - we make plans all the time. Whether it's dinner or a concert or a blues club or sports. 

We are comfortable together in a way that makes life better. 

So much better.

Pure Honesty

 "In the lives of the saddest of us, there are bright days like this, when we feel as if we could take the great world in our arms and kiss it. Then come the gloomy hours, when the fire will neither burn on our hearths  nor in our hearts; and all without and within is dismal, cold and dark. Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion.

Succinctly

 "A lifetime is short and death is so long

  I don't believe in no heaven, I just hope that I'm wrong"

 From "Floating", by Jape

The Inevitability of Death (and Life)

I am reading a book that compares the historical life of Jesus with the biblical version of Jesus.

Fascinating stuff.

I have noticed that whenever I read anything relating to religion I feel a yearning deep inside.

Apparently this is because I don't want to die.

I want there to be an afterlife; I want Jesus to be real; I want to know that I will exist beyond my death. I don't believe in this stuff but I want it to be real.

I cannot grasp the truth that one day I will just not be here. That is such an empty feeling.

I don't necessarily feel like I am afraid of death (I could be lying) but my mind reels every time I think about not existing anymore.

It's funny because I have obsessed about death for decades; you would think I'd have a handle on it.

In my thirties I began to think I was destined to die young. At that point it felt like my fate was sealed - I was a fucking accountant (ludicrous), a homeowner, a bill payer - I had morphed into all the things I never believed in - all the things I detested.

I didn't take great care of myself, I was stressed, angry and disgusted all the time - supremely unhappy - I figured that had to be the perfect recipe for an untimely departure.

But...............along came 40, 50, 60 - are you fucking kidding me? I am still alive?

All along the way I kept expecting to die. 

Subconciously I think that mindset contributed to my failure to take control of my life - shit, man - I was going to die soon anyway.

There is true irony in the fact that now that I have prostate cancer, a situation that has the possibility of not ending well, I am feeling pretty confident.

My brother Ed believes that when you die your energy is released into the universe - that is how you continue to exist. 

It is a cool philosophy but does not satisfy my greedy needs. I need afterlife awareness - gotta have it. If there is an afterlife I want to know that I am dead and I want to know that I am still me. To be able to keep an eye on Keith and Craig, maybe slip them a little ethereal help if they need it.

If I can't have that I am not interested.

Reincarnation would be nice, but that would have to include some fine print at the bottom of the contract. If every person who dies is reincarnated as a human, the population of planet earth would be 600 million billion trillion. So if it's real, some people must come back as cockroaches and ants and snakes and butterflies.

I have no interest in becoming a mosquito.

So as I read this book I experience moments when my soul yearns to believe that Jesus and his dad are the real deal, but ultimately I can't accept that, so I come back around to this whole ceasing to exist thing. Up and down, back and forth, hope/no hope.

The book is fascinating though; I am enjoying it.

I am 67 years old. Death is coming for me. No way around it. But I don't think I see it as punishment for living the wrong life anymore  (I could be lying). And I think I am beginning to experience a sort of lightness inside me that takes the edge off of where I am at.

Not sure, though. It is confusing stuff.

Jesus - a little help? 

Yeah, Baby - Life Don't Phase Me

Driving to work on a snowing Friday morning at 6:30 am. Temperature 22 degrees.

Singing along with the radio: "Bennie and the Jets" - Elton John.

B-B-B-Bennie and the jets...................

Proof positive that I have learned how to live.

Goddamn Late Bloomer

Weighed myself today. Lost 3 pounds since last week.

I promise I will not bore you with a blow by blow accounting of weight gain/weight loss during the entirety of the Prostate Cancer Saga. But this is significant.

I have lost 5 pounds since this saga began in spite of dealing with hormone therapy. I believe I'm on to something, kids.

The reason I bring it up is that I am proud of it and I am working hard at it. One thing I am learning as I strive to improve myself as a human being is that you gotta be gentle with yourself, and recognize your accomplishments.

I made a commitment when I was diagnosed with "high risk" prostate cancer that I was gonna fight it from every angle available to me - physical, psychological, inspirational - I was going to use every tool I could think of to keep my spirits and my health up. Things that made sense to me, things that resonate with who I am deep down inside.

And it is working.

The things I am doing to wrestle control of my mind back from the evil demons who have poisoned it for decades - these things are bringing me enormous peace. I know I am on the right track there.

Obviously the things I am doing for my health are spot on.

I am beginning to think that my life up to this point has been pointing me towards this finality. I am beginning to believe that when I get past this cancer I will be the strongest, most confident Joe Testa I have ever been.

My mother used to say two things that have stuck in my mind (besides "Oh........Joseph" - disappointingly) - "you are your own worst enemy." "You are a late bloomer."

The worst enemy thing was exactly right - I have known that about myself forever. But the late bloomer thing always pissed me off.

Maybe she was right about that too. Maybe it has taken me 67 years to get to a place where things begin to click - where my life begins to make sense - where my true essence rises to the surface and shines, baby - where I snag peace of mind in my greedy little fingers.

All I know is that in the face of prostate cancer I feel better than I ever have before. Except for when Keith and Craig lived in this house. That was the pinnacle of natural born happiness for me. But I cannot rely on my sons to make me happy. I need to rely on myself.

That feels like where I am at or getting very close to being.

It feels good.

I like feeling good.

Feels A Lot Like Hope

Got my first Covid-19 vaccination yesterday. 2nd one is scheduled for March 7.

Unbelievable feeling.

Apparently I get VIP treatment because I work for the City of Concord. I never even registered on the vaccination website. The city called me. Three times.

I could have been vaccinated a month ago - that was the first call I got. At that time I had no idea this program was even in place. But Dr. Feelgood wanted me to get a clear indication if there were any side effects from the hormone therapy shot. She thought I should wait because it is possible to get side effects from the covid shot. And you think your life is complicated.

The city's vaccination program is being administered by the fire department; the shots are being delivered by the National Guard. The fire department has the list of city employees and sets up the appointments, the Guard does the deed.

When I got the first call I explained that I had to wait. Gave them a timeframe. They called me again anyway a couple of weeks later - I had to say no again. This made me nervous.

Finally I called them last Saturday and told them I was ready to rock. They called me yesterday and said "Get in here, son."

This is not your average visit to Dr. Feelgood. I never got out of my car.

The Nationa Guard has commandeered a garage abandoned by Sears. I was greeted by a National Guard dude as I pulled up. He verified that I belonged there, gave me what I needed and moved me along.

There was a steady stream of cars pulling in but it was smooth sailing. The Guard has this down to a science.

They only allow a limited number of cars into the garage at one time. They were just shutting the door as I came around the bend. I was now second in line.

Ten minutes later they re-opened the door and we rolled in.  I pulled up, rolled down the window and shut the engine off. They checked my ID, pumped all my info into a tablet, set up my next appointment and gave me the shot. Pfizer.

Then I rolled outside to the "observation area" and parked. They keep an eye on you for about 20 minutes. In that time a guy came around three times to make sure I was feeling ok. Are you nauseous? Dizzy? Do you feel weird in any way?

Then I was released. That was it. The whole thing took about 30 minutes. But it was weird, like a scene out of a futuristic movie. Cars rolling up, National Guardsmen - in uniform -  sticking needles in peoples' arms.

On March 7 I will breathe a huge sigh of relief. But it won't be over, which is another weird aspect of this whole thing. I won't be able to get real sick from this fucking disease but I can still get it - and still transmit it. So I will still have to mask up and stay away from stupid people.

So how does this work? At some point does somebody declare "OK everybody - we have reached herd immunity - take your masks off"? I have no idea. I will do what I learned to do in 2020 - wait.

Watching Bill Maher last Friday and he was talking about how weird this is. He said "Shit, I am still waiting for 2020 to end." That's exactly how it feels.

After March 7 it will be tempting to get myself infected and then hang around places where trump people congregate - you know, gun stores and domestic violence/addiction rehab centers.

Unfortunately Carol's first appointment isn't until March 19. She had to go through the website. She does not enjoy the same celebrity status that I do.

But we are on our way. Shit, man - by the time we can unmask it will have been a year and a half - or more - of surreal insanity. Even getting just the first shot provides a measure of comfort. And I had no side effects at all. None. Today my shoulder is sore and stiff, but that ain't no big thing.

One shot to the arm and hope is kindled. It is a tentative flame at best.

I can't wait for it to explode into a bonfire.

Great Line

Funniest line from a commercial in 2020:

"Your wayward pinky is grotesque"

Harsh Reality

How many times can my heart break before it shatters?

Thursday, February 11 - the day before our 43rd wedding annniversary.

I worked all day. Usually when I come home on those days Carol is sitting crocheting on the couch, Maka sleeping next to her, TV on. A beautiful, peaceful scene.

I got home to an empty house that day. Because Carol spent the entire day engaging with the medical community.

She had a zoom meeting in the morning with the surgeon who spent 20 hours operating on her face last February. Later she was off to Dartmouth-Hitchcock - a one hour drive. She had an MRI scheduled for noon; a three o'clock meeting with one of the surgeons who operated on her brain tumor.

She got home shortly after I did and filled me in about her day. 

The MRI was great news. When they operated on her brain they had to leave a tiny piece of the tumor behind because it was too risky to get it all - they ran the risk of severing a nerve in her brain. Sometimes the tumor will regenerate, sometimes it just dies. The MRI showed that it was gone.

She spoke with a surgeon who performs facial surgery about her options now. She has been considering a kind of face lift surgery that  would lift her cheek up and get her speech back to normal. The surgeon told her the surgery would not get her speech back to normal - they cannot life the face up high enough to correct for the speech.

Carol said to him - "My face will never get back to normal, will it?" The surgeon said "No".

I was in a state of shock when she told me this. I said to her "So he told you they can never repair the damage to your face?" She said "No, they can't."

My chin dropped to my chest - I could not look her in the eye -  and I sobbed silently for 20 or 30 seconds as Carol continued to fill me in.

I have learned how to swallow my tears. I realized after Carol's mastectomy and the brain surgery that people would want constant updates and if I broke down crying every time I would never get through it.

I came very close to losing it completely on Thursday because that news broke my heart. AGAIN.

She has been through so much and has fought so hard - she does not deserve this.

John O'Donahue writes: "When you love, you open your life to an Other. All your barriers are down. Your protective distances collapse. This person is given absolute permission to come into the deepest temple of your spirit."

THAT is why what Carol is going through kills me. She has taken residence in the deepest temple of my spirit.

In many ways I have lived a dangerous life. I drank heavily for many decades, did plenty of drugs, took lots of stupid chances that put me in harm's way. And I walk around at the age of 67 relatively unscathed.

But Carol gets tortured by breast cancer and a brain tumor. I do not fucking understand it, it is so unfair, and it rips me apart.

Thank god we have each other. Our love is stronger now than it has ever been.

But my heart can't take any more. If there is a god, leave Carol the fuck alone. Come after me if that makes you happy - I have no problem with that.

Carol filled my heart with love. Her medical problems threaten to shatter my heart.

This is the paradox of life.

It hurts.

A Literary Obsession

Sometimes I just have to brag about my reading. Got me a big ego regarding that.

I finished Don Quixote this morning. The book was published in two parts - in 1605 and 1615. Over 400 years ago. That alone blows me away and lends an air of dignity and mystery to it. 

Miguel De Cervantes was the author. He was born in Spain. He was in debtor's prison when he began writing the book.

Many people consider it the "first modern novel" and the "best literary work ever written".

I don't care about that. It is a great story, a classic, and I enjoyed it tremendously. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are such cool characters.

It was another labor of love for me - over 900 pages and well worth the effort.

When you decide to read a book like this you gotta do your homework because there are many translations. The book holds the distinction of being the second most translated book in the world after the Bible. Pretty decent company.

There are good translations and bad translations. I research all that until I come up with a consensus about which translation gets the most consistent praise. I picked a good one.

I love the language. I find old tymey language very satisfying. It can be flowery and grandiose but I think it communicates beautifully.

I love old tymey language so much that I just bought the complete collected works of William Shakespeare. Just got it this week.

Such a beautiful book. Leather bound with gold leaf pages and a ribbon inside for marking your pages. I was going on excitedly about it to Carol - I am like a little kid on Christmas morn when I buy a book like this. When I stopped rambling she asked "But don't the thees and thous bother you?"

I get it. This kind of stuff isn't for everybody, but it thrills me.

I am proud of the classics I read. When I finished reading Don Quixote this morning I reflected on all the time I have spent reading in my life.

It would be nice to tell you that all that reading made me brilliant and allowed me to conquer life and retire in great wealth.

Alas, that is not the case.

In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge's nephew Fred Holywell defends his love of Christmas to Scrooge this way: "There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. ..............................And therefore uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!"

That is how I feel about reading. It brings me enormous peace.

So I finished Don Quixote, and I have Shakespeare waiting in the wings (you should see the size of that book) along with about 10 other books I have stockpiled.

My future's so bright I gotta wear shades.

Another Painful Truth

 "People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use."

Soren Kierkegaard

FORTY THREE YEARS

Friday - February 12, 2021 - will be mine and Carol's 43rd wedding anniversary.

Can you believe that?

It is a cliche but life goes by too fast, baby. Way too fast.

Why February 12? Because I procrastinated. Carol wanted to get married in the fall, I thought that was too soon. She did not want to wait too long so we compromised on February 12 - and almost got cancelled by the Blizzard of '78. Life does not fuck around. Decisions have consequences.

We are exact opposites in almost every way. It is a miracle that this marriage lasted. I can't quite figure it out unless you account for this thing called love.

We were in love in 1978. We are in love in 2021. But it is different. Our love has gone from idealistic to realistic.

Love changes. Life changes love. You deal with what life throws at you and it changes you, and it changes your understanding of who you are married to. You discover that this perfect person you married is far from perfect. You learn to love the imperfections. Or get divorced.

We met under ridiculous circumstances. Because I was studying accounting at Northeastern University and got a job at the company Carol worked for. I should never have been an accountant. I fucking hated it. The irony is if I majored in something I loved I would never have met Carol. And Keith and Craig would not exist (I will deal with that concept later).

My love for Carol has bounced around a bit based on where my head was at and where her head was at. I'm sure she would say the same. That's life - circumstances test your love. Your perspective fluctuates.

After coming through the hard times I knew that I loved her, but the intensity of it was cemented in my brain when she got sick. Five hours waiting through breast surgery, 7 and 1/2 hours waiting through brain surgery and - the killer -  a cumulative 20 hours of waiting through facial surgery.

Agony. Fear. Worry. Tears.

The last one almost broke me. When she went back into surgery on the second day, I sat for long periods of time in the waiting room bent over with my head in my hands. That's all I could do. Couldn't read, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. I sat there in total despair.

Why was all that so painful for me? Because I love her.

I have fantasized about what my life could have been had I not married Carol. Kind of an exquisite torture. But it always comes back to one reality - Keith and Craig.

They are our crowning achievement. Two amazing human beings that we brought into this world.

Carol and I are exact opposites except when it comes to being parents. We were fiercely in sync on that. We are proud of the kind of parents we were (and are). We take credit up to a point for the quality people they have become.

And they brought us so much happiness, so much laughter, so much joy. And continue to do so.

So yeah, for that reason and many more, marrying Carol was the right move.

It is 2021. 2017 and 2019 sucked because of Carol's surgeries. Then fucking Covid came along and now I have prostate cancer. This shit never stops.

What's the lesson? Be with someone you love. Because life kicks you around and you need someone you can trust, someone you can rely on, someone you are comfortable with - someone that you love and who loves you.

I have that.

As unlikely as it may seem, our marriage happened for a reason.

I am glad it did.

Perspective Makes A Difference

 "You are such a fool

  to worry like you do

  I know it's tough

  and you can never get enough

  of what you don't really need

  You've got to get yourself together

  you've got stuck in a moment

  and now you can't get out of it

  Don't say that later will be better

  now you're stuck in a moment

  and you can't get out of it

  

  And if the night runs over

  and if the day won't last

  and if your way should falter

  along the stony paths

  

  It's just a moment

  this time will pass"

Stuck In a Moment You Can't Get Out Of,  U2

Deeply Meaningful

Just heard an interview with Wynton Marsalis.

He was talking about his Dad, Ellis, who died in April of 2020.

Wynton said: "I was fortunate to be born to him."

I cannot think of a higher compliment.

I LOVE Animals

 "How it is that animals understand things, I do not know, but it is certain that they do understand. Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without even making a sound, to another soul."

Frances Hodgson Burnett from A Little Princess.

"Animals are so much quicker in picking up our thoughts than we are in picking up theirs. I believe they must have a very poor opinion of the human race."

Barbara Woodhouse

I sometimes wonder why "You're an animal" is an insult; it seems to me that, if animals could talk, "You're a human" would be one of their favorite insults.

Richard E. Turner

It Ain't Easy, Baby

 "The challenge for anyone interested in making progress is to simultaneously have (1) the confidence to go after what you want and (2) the humility to accept who you are right now and (3) the willingness to build skills that bridge the gap between 1 and 2."

James Clear

We NEED The Super Bowl

LV.

What a gift. Brady versus Mahomes. That is exactly the kind of match up you want for a Super Bowl.

Especially now. Very especially now.

I have come full circle on Brady. When he left THE PATS I was hoping he would get tackled during his first game with the bucs and break both legs.

Eventually I realized that was a selfish and petty position to take. The man is a football God. A grown-ass man. His life is his own to do with whatever he wishes. And he has done pretty well so far.

So I am rooting for the bucs. And Brady. I would love to see him get another ring.

I don't care what your opinion of football is. There are a lot of haters out there, largely created by the NFL itself. The hype is ridiculous. The NFL Network has been bragging about 70 hours of Super Bowl coverage this week before Sunday's game. Seventy hours.

The second coming of Christ is not worth 70 hours of TV coverage in one week.

But here's the deal - the Super Bowl transcends football. It is a larger than life spectacle. We need spectacles to provide an escape from these horrible times we are "living" through.

We need wonder and awe. The Super Bowl provides that.

I don't give a damn whether you watch the game or not. But find something about it, some touching story or unique coverage that captivates you. Something you can lose yourself in. It's out there. Not all the coverage is bullshit.

Or watch the game and lose yourself in the insanity of it. It's just a football game but it has a weight and a meaning and a significance about it that can capture your emotions.

I am a little worried about a Covid Super Bowl. A lot will be lost. Screaming fans give you juice, baby - you thrill through them. I have watched some pretty good live stuff in Covid Times. I am hoping they pull this off tomorrow in a big way. A mind blowingly satisfying way.

I have been a compromised football fan this season. Covid has ripped a lot of life out of me. Twice during the season THE PATS had night games that I completely forgot about. Carol had to remind me.

That is not me.

Tomorrow? I am all in, baby. I am whipping up a batch of my famous nachos. I am going to dig out some beautiful recipe that I have forgotten about and create a magnificent feast. I don't want to just barbecue. I want everything about this day to be special.

For four and a half hours I am going to enjoy myself. We are going to enjoy ourselves. Me and my special wife (our 43rd wedding anniversary occurs next week) are going to enjoy each others company, laugh, thrill, ooh and aahh, and we have been given the perfect match-up to do it.

The only thing that could make it better would be to enjoy the day with Keith and Craig and Eddie, but that is not to be. Fuck covid.

But trust me I will not allow any melancholy to detract from my enjoyment.

Tomorrow will be spectacular.

We NEED the Super Bowl. I need it.

Desperately.

Thumbs Up

I was pulling into the parking garage yesterday morning and noticed a new sign at the entrance:

No Skateboarding Allowed.

Killed me.

My buddy should write "Fuck You" on the sign in red magic marker, trek to the top of the parking garage skateboard in hand, and take one last blissful Ride of Peace & Individuality through the four floors, emerging from the garage triumphant.

If I am there to witness it he will get a thumbs up from me.

A Cocoon of Warmth

I want to live in my car.

I am cold from October through April. That is just a fact.

My house is cold - a wide open, drafty old abode - I dress in layers in my own house because I am always cold.

Enter the 2020 Hyundai Elantra. This car has been such a gift for me. I'd rather be driving a Lincoln, but what are you gonna do?

The music system, especially thanks to Sirius XM, elevates my soul. The sound is surprisingly good. 

U2 has a song called "Miss Sarajevo". Featuring Luciano Pavarotti, believe it or not. Pavarotti's part kicks in a couple of minutes into the song. And when he sings you get goosebumps. Blows you away.

I pulled it up on YouTube to expose Carol to the beauty. It was not dramatic enough. Tried a live version, a recorded version - not good enough.

We were in my car a day or two later when the song popped up. I turned up the volume - when Pavarotti chimed in Carol said "Wow - now I understand what you are talking about!"

Pretty cool.

But the heat, baby - I am all about the heat.

First of all I got me the remote start magic on my phone. That is a gift from god.

There are three settings on the seat warmers. You might last 5 minutes on the highest setting if you are truly determined. I set it on the second level and my ass (and back) are eternally warm.

I set the internal temperature at 78 degrees. Seventy eight, baby.

With the seat warmer on and the heat kicking in, it creates a cocoon of warmth. I never want to get out of my car. I often fantasize about just driving straight to Arizona.

I may get me a brand new Lincoln one day. You never know. But for now, the Elantra makes me happy.

I want to live in my car.

Imagine That

I am sure you have noticed that I rarely post anything on Wednesdays, Thursdays or Fridays.

This is work related. 

I created a survival and personal betterment system that works perfectly Saturday through Tuesday. Brings me great peace, is making me feel good about myself.

Wed-Fri I drop into a black hole. Especially Thurs and Fri, thanks to a 5:30 am alarm.

I just cannot function as a human being on those days. I shut down, turn off, go numb and navigate those days with my head and my spirits down.

Our goal is to fully retire at the end of June. A noble goal.

I am not sure I will make it that far.

Saturday through Tuesday I live. Wednesday through Friday I die.

Simple as that.

I either have to craft a solution or quit.

The current situation is untenable.

Snow

 The only way I could ever love snow is if it turned into butter cream frosting when it hits the ground.

Work (And Words)

John O'Donahue was a priest before he was a poet.

He published a book titled "To Bless The Space Between Us: A Collection of Invocations and Blessings".

The blessings tackle specific topics. One that caught my eye recently was "Blessing of Your Work", because it describes the exact opposite of what most peoples' work lives are, but should be.

I'll borrow a few lines:

"May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul"

"May your work never weary you"

"May it release within you wellsprings, inspiration and excitement"

"May evening find you gracious and fulfilled"

Tough to feel these things when you work for Kentucky Fried Chicken. Or any job that is not in sync with who you are. I get that. And for me to say this is what work should be for us wee humans is ridiculously pretentious.

But one topic I have hammered away at in here is that our jobs make us miserable. And it is precisely because you cannot see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.

Work dominates our lives. Everything revolves around work. Work literally runs your life. For forty years or more.

Think about that. Forty years during which your personal life takes a back seat. Your hopes, your dreams (if you have any), simple pleasures, freedom from stress and anxiety. 

I draw comfort from O'Donahue's words but I am not sure why. They sure as hell don't apply to me. I guess it is that soul-deep longing we have for our lives to make sense. Again, the difference between what it means to be human versus what life requires of us causes great pain.

Except for the "suck it up" crowd. They feel no pain. Or pretend not to. I have no respect for that point of view. I would rather keep my emotions alive than kill them because "this is the way life is."

The subject is convoluted. There are those who say everybody has a special talent; you just gotta figure out what it is and work at it to make yourself happy.

I don't believe that. There are special people and there are worker bees. I worked with a woman many years ago whose ultimate compliment always was "He's a good worker." She meant he did his job, kept his head down, did not make waves etc. A worker bee.

I don't think that is much of a compliment. Individuality, creativity, uniqueness - these are compliments.

I just realized I pretty much don't have a point here. I guess John O'Donahue's words soothe my soul and feed the wishful part of my brain, but they are very much divorced from reality. 

Unfortunately.

I will stick with my belief that our jobs are the most powerful source of most of our unhappiness. And that unhappiness feeds violence and resentment and criminality and destructiveness and self-abuse.

That is not the way life should be.

I doubt there will ever be a solution.

Ultimate Goal

 "I've conquered my past

  The future is here at last

  I stand at the entrance

  to a new world I can see

  The ruins to the right of me

  will soon have lost sight of me

  Love rescue me"

From "Love Rescue Me", by U2