Better Times?

I just finished reading a history of the Town of Henniker that spanned the years 1880-1979.

It was dry reading at various points, but it was cool to folllow the development of the town. Interesting perspectives, like when electricity was introduced; telephones - and later when they got away from switchboards; impressions of when cars first showed up on the scene.

The car thing was hilarious - no one was prepared for that, so it was like the wild west. No traffic signs or lights, no speed limits - apparently you took your life in your hands if you walked downtown.

Also amusing were the things people argued about. Some were against electricity. How bizarre. Not a lot of oppositon to telephones, though - people love to gossip.

I am glad I read it. Obviously in many ways there is a huge difference between life in 1880 and life in 2022. However, there is not a lot of difference in people. We evolve but we don't.

The last page of the book blew me away because the authors suddenly waxed philosophical. Dig:

"The past is a marvelous fantasy toy. We are able to revel in the thought of a sleigh ride or a husking bee - and forget the number of children who never saw their first birthday because of diseases we can now control. We sit in toasty warm homes waxing nostalgic for the old days - when plants sometimes froze in the kitchen. Most of us love happiness and dislike unpleasantness. Thus it is natural to dream of the good ol' days, but the ledger had its debits and credits as it does now."

I guess the lesson is to look back in time with eyes wide open. Although the past six years make it impossible to believe that these are better times.

A Confluence of Events - Big & Small

I continue to feel supreme.

It has been building for months and has culminated in something typically recognized as HOPE.

During the summer of 2021 I reconnected with my five closest friends from high school. Bobby, Jimmy, Ed, Barry and Dave. We met (minus Dave) at Jimmy's new home, which just happens to be 30 minutes from my own.

My heart was wide open, and I appreciated that get together with a laser focus for exactly what it meant. We talked, laughed, reminisced - and agreed to get together again soon.

On my birthday, every single one of them texted me. Dave and Jim called me. It meant so much to me.

In September, Carol and I brought Emmy Lou and Patsy into our home. These cats have stolen our hearts. And made us laugh and smile and hug them and kiss them. They are the sweetest, craziest, most loving cats in the history of the feline world.

Every night Patsy curls up in my lap, Emmy Lou in Carol's. Our nights could not be more comforting.

Christmas day was spectacular. We got the whole family together for the first time since this covid bullshit began. We came close  during the summer - we met at my brother's house but Amanda - Craig's fiance - could not make it. She was working. She works her ass off. She's a sweetheart.

But on Christmas day we pulled it off. At Craig & Amanda's brand new home. They entertained the family for the first time and did an amazing job.

Carol and I kept looking around, taking it all in. We were like a man who has crawled 185 miles through the desert, collapsed from exhaustion ready to die - only to find his face planted in a magical spring of cool, clear water.

A small thing - I got new lenses in my eyeglasses on 12/30. As a result of my first eye checkup in seven years. I'm old. My body is deteriorating. My eyesight was worse than I realized.

The first day I sat down with a book in my lap was hilarious. I put the book where I would normally place it in my lap - and things were a bit fuzzy. I was pissed - they fucked up. Then I moved the book closer and it was crystal clear. Feels like we got a new TV. It's so goddamn clear I feel like I am looking through it straight to reality.

I went for the full boat. Transitions sunglass shit, ant-glare for night driving. Night driving has been weird for a while - headlight glare really throws me off. Not any more. As I was driving home I was staring right into oncoming headlights and I was fine.

Again, seems like a small thing, but I am seeing everything with crystal clear clarity. Seems like a metaphor.

I got a new job. Started yesterday. Hugs all around. I have reconnected with people I took for granted last time around. My kind of people. Sensitive, artsy types. Empathy all around. So many of them told me they had missed me and were truly happy to have me back.

I am happy. A new beginning in a new year. It doesn't get any better than that.

A revelation - my high school friends, Christmas day, the new job - these very human things have re-wired my brain. I am beginning to think I have more to offer than I have ever given myself credit for.

Overall, I feel so good that I am astonished. Holy Shit - what have I been missing? Are humans allowed to feel this way? Is this the way it is supposed to be?

You bet your ass it is.

Two Failures

I carry two failures with me into 2022.

1) An inability to lose weight. 

This one really pisses me off. I am all-in in this fight. I will do whatever it fucking takes. I have put maximum effort into it and failed. And failed. And failed.

I dropped from 195 to 185 early-on in 2021. Then I ballooned up to 194 and here I sit. Fat, uncomfortable, and furious.

But I refuse to give up. Gotta get me another hormone shot on Tuesday. I am going to ask Dr. Feelgood for advice. If she cannot help I will do some research. Obviously my approach is not working. I refuse to believe that I "cannot lose weight during hormone therapy". Fuck that.

Hormone therapy ends at the end of 2022. I am not going to weigh 700 pounds when that happens. I want to dance out of the urology department after my last shot and buy myself a beautifully tailored Italian made suit.

You know - for all the formal functions I normally attend.

2) I did not line up a therapist.

I am beginning to think the word is out in therapist circles. "Don't take this guy on - he's a fucking lunatic. He has so many neuroses and psychoses he can't even brush his teeth without crying."

Fucking Covid, man - everybody is fucked up. Everybody has their skull under examination. So therapists are "not accepting new patients at this time."

Again, I refuse to give up.

I will launch an all-out assault on the profession until I bully a therapist into taking a chance on me.

Christ, you'd think they'd relish the challenge. They could write papers about me. They could write a book and get richer.

"How I Successfully Negotiated The Dark Labyrinths of One Man's Twisted Psyche and Survived."

I will not allow these two failures to sabotage my 2022 enthusiasm. Ain't gonna happen.

I will keep moving forward.

Stay out of my fucking way.

January 1, 2022

 "This year I will be more thoughtful of my fellow man, exert more effort in each of my endeavors, professionally as well as personally. Take love wherever I find it, and offer it to everyone who will take it. In this coming year I will seek knowledge from those wiser than me and try to teach those who wish to learn from me. I love being alive and I will be the best man I possibly can."

Duane Allman's diary, January 1, 1969

I will be the best man I possibly can. That remains my overall goal - in every way, in every avenue of my life.

I took a solid whack at it in 2021, but I have a long way to go. A long way to go. It is a daunting task, requiring constant vigilance.

But well worth the effort.

Almost Forgot

I weighed myself yesterday.

I weigh 194 pounds.

Let me interpret that for you.

I weighed 194 pounds on December 4. Since then I have eaten much healthier and exercised my ass off.

And accomplished nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I did not expect much - 26 days is not a lot of time to lose weight. But if I even lost 1 pound it would have been momentum; a reward for hard work and sacrifice.

Instead - fucking nothing.

This disturbs me because Dr. Feelgood warned me that any weight I gain during hormone therapy will be very hard to lose. I didn't believe him. Diet and exercise defeats resistance. 

But maybe not during hormone therapy. 

I gotta deal with this for another year. I refuse to become Blimpo The Elephant. So I am going to keep on keeping on. I will report back in 3 months. But I gotta admit I am a little down.

What the fuck is it gonna take? Can I actually lose weight at all?

I told you I would keep you posted. I still weigh 194 pounds.

Fuck it.

When I'm Sixty-Eight (For Carol)

I took the liberty of editing the lyrics to"When I'm Sixty-Four" for my own purposes. I know, blasphemy - but, then again - I am incorrigible. I was going to highlight the changes, but decided that if you don't know the original lyrics by heart - you should be executed.

When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greetings bottle of wine.

If I'd been out 'till quarter to three, would you feel some hate,

Will you still need me and will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-eight.

You'll be older too, and if you say the word, I could stay with you.

I could be handy, mending a fuse, when your lights have gone, you can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings go for a ride.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds, I can hardly wait

Will you still need me and will you still feed me,

When I'm sixty-eight

Every summer we can rent a cottage on Lake Sunapee, if it's not too dear.

We shall scrimp and worry, 

grand-pets around our feet,

Cooper, Jack and Murray.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line, stating point of view.

Indicate precisely what you mean to say, yours sincerely wasting away.

Give me your answer, fill in a form,

I need to know my fate,

Will you still need me and will you still feed me,

When I'm sixty-eight.

Music 2021

My travels through the world of music have been deep and meaningful in 2021.

I dug deep - really deep -  into U2 at the beginning of the year as I negotiated a new world that included prostate cancer. I listened to them non-stop for months on end and they were soothing, inspirational, Gods of empathy, thought provoking - I sincerely believe that without them I would not have handled radiation and beyond, the way I did.

I leaned on them and they supported me. I will always have that relationship in mind as I continue to deal with prostate cancer. Edge, Larry, Bono, Adam - I love you guys.

I migrated to Little Steven's Underground Garage. Funkiest goddamn music on Sirius. 

The man's musical knowledge runs deep. He focuses on the music of the 50's and the 60's - paying deep homage to the artists and playing deep, deep tracks, while telling fascinating and entertaining stories. But he also introduces new acts who are in touch with the spirit of it all. And all the dj's on the station share the love and tell great stories and reveal meaningful facts about the music and artists they feature.

Months into my obsession I was rewarded with the release of Steven Van Zandt's autobiography: "Unrequited Infatuations". A spectacular book. Brutally honest.

I have not written down my impressions yet because I fear I cannot do it justice. Sometimes a book comes along that is so deep that I drown for a while before I can properly express my emotions.

Next I migrated to The Blues. My home base. Been doing a deep dive for months now and, of course, my heart and my soul and my mind are healthier for the effort.

On December 29 I switched to The Beatles channel. On the second to last day of the city job.

The Beatles channel is my happy channel. They always make me feel good. Always.

I staggered to my car at 6:30 yesterday morning (last day of torture), pumped up The Beatles channel and was rewarded with "What Is Life" by George Harrison.

Which leads me to an important point.......................