I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac*
From “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley

*for those who may not know…Deadheads were devout followers of the band The Grateful Dead and were often seen as the epitome of antiestablishment.
The Cadillac was used as the symbol used to represent achieving the highest rung of the establishment.

There is an old joke attributed to George Bernard Shaw about a young lady at a dinner; the gentleman seated next to her asks if she would sleep with someone for a million dollars. Without hesitation she replies she would. He then asks if she’d sleep with him for a twenty.
Astonished, she says “what kind of girl do you think I am?”
He replies, “We’ve established that, we’re just haggling about the price.”
***

Ask just about anyone if they were truly surprised about Gov. Blagojevich and deep down they will usually admit that no, they really weren’t. What they felt was a confirmation that politicians are a lot like the young lady above, it depends on the price.

Byram Karasu, a professor of psychiatry at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, says that “for a seasoned prostitute, there is no shame or guilt associated with their being merchants of the flesh. If caught, they spend a night in jail.”

Because of headlines, we are now conditioned to accept that many of our elected officials spend a lot of time haggling price, and whether it be sex, money, power or fame, what is for sale is not just their office but their souls.

Renana Brooks, a psychologist and director of The National Institute for the Study of the American Unconscious says that Blagojevich may not have seen himself as auctioning off Obama’s senate seat so much as acting as a tough negotiator. “He would probably tell you that he wasn’t selling it.”

Psychiatrists say many people tend to believe that “if what I’m doing I think is right, it must be right” even when we would agree it was wrong if others were doing the same thing…that our reasons for doing it are pure.

I’m learning to take a few minutes each evening and reflect on the day. Were my actions and words righteous or did I sell myself for twenty bucks? It’s easy to justify your deeds to yourself; can you justify them to God? Was I like the above mentioned Deadhead sticker, proclaiming I was something but showing the world a different face?

As I make my list of things I hope to change, I realize that I’m not too far gone…I still have a sense of guilt and shame…and unlike the prostitute, I’m don’t plan on going “back to jail” not because I hope I won’t get caught but because I plan on changing my ways.
Like the Governor, did I justify my actions based on what I want to be right or what was really right?

In my personal beliefs, my soul is not for sale…it’s already been bought and paid for, my job now is to daily ensure that I’m paying it back by working toward doing the right things not because I think they are right, but because a standard has been set for me to judge my actions. I may not measure up but it won’t stop me from keeping my eyes on that goal.
Ask yourself each evening, Who are you? Like the deadhead sticker, do you try to present yourself as someone other than who you really are? Who is setting the standard that you measure yourself against?


I know there's a place you walked

Where love falls from the trees

My heart is like a broken cup

I only feel right on my knees

I spit out like a sewer hole

Yet still receive your kiss

How can I measure up to anyone now

After such a love as this?

Who Are You? I Really Want To Know….

Roger Daltry/Pete Townsend/The Who


“I’m not who I want to be, I’m not who I’m going to be…But thank God I’m not who I used to be”.

Peace.

142029

Over 40 years ago, I met George Atkins. Although I do not recall the exact date, the memory of that exact moment comes to the surface often, and that meeting, and subsequent encounters made a huge impact on my life.

George was the first black kid in my class at school, and he was assigned the seat next to mine. George gave me the experience of see racism and prejudice up close and personal.

This was not my first moment to be this associated with a black child. As a “poor white” family, I’d spent many days in the cotton field and as a result I’d had many times of playing in those same fields with several kids, both black and white. Never did my mom or dad say anything negative about the friendships I forged while we were toiling under the hot sun with a hoe or a cotton sack.

In a recent interview with the actor Will Smith, they discuss various rumors about his “involvement” with Scientology. His response was “Fear of other religions means you're questioning your own understanding, and that's just not where I am.” He discusses his Baptist upbringing and his unshakable faith. That gives him the strength to examine other religions without fear of losing his own.

That struck a chord with me. As one of our local radio hosts says about wearing pink, only a very secure man can do that without worry.

I have friends of different religions, different life styles, different skin color and extremely different social and financial ends of the spectrum. While each has a slight influence in my life, none can change my core beliefs.

As Will said, that’s just not where I am.

Today, I’m thankful for George for teaching me that I can overcome racial issues that I have nothing to fear. I’m thankful I’ve been blessed with being able to have such a diverse group of friends in part because I learned to be secure in who I am.

I don’t fear a people, a religion, or lifestyles. Oh, I’m slightly afraid of crazies with weapons but so far I don’t see that confined to any certain group.

Today, I need to get out the axe and work on that beam in my own eye before I say anything about the speck in yours. My hands are full worrying about getting my life “right” without poking my nose in you r business worrying if your living life according to my beliefs.

These past months have taught me that the less hate or prejudice you have in your heart, the more room there is for love, and that I need to spend more time learning to live in His image and less trying to mold you into mine.

Peace

32971

I work with bums. Literally. Homeless, hungry, nothing-to-their-names, down & out bums. They’ve been one of those scary people you see hanging out in parking lots of convenience stores begging for change.

One actually went around the neighborhood knocking on doors begging for can goods because he was hungry. The other was sitting in a hotel room, trying to find work, his fiancé undergoing chemo for a brain tumor. Another was an unemployed roofer, actually willing to work for food.

Over the years, I’ve worked with several of those type men. For a multitude of reasons, they are unemployed yet willing to work, they are willing to beg because they are hungry (and sadly, they need cigarettes…you’d think that’d be one thing they would give up but the more desperate some get, the more they turn to something).

Last week, I listened as a “pillar of the community” and professed leader in his church go into a tirade about street people. I was stunned. His beliefs were so far from the truth it was a shock that he was uttering those words. I might have expected it from some less educated, from people with no real ties to the community, but this was someone who ought to know better.

…”lazy, don’t want to work, expecting me and you to support them and their habits.”

Could be. I’ve seen some of those folks in the soup kitchen line, and could probably find a dozen con artists, shiftless and lazy bums who not only won’t work but will expend more energy figuring angles than earning a penny

But what about those others?

David was down and out. No work, no food, nothing. He couldn’t pay his rent, utilities, and was down to looking for cigarette butts along the curb. He had zero skills. As a former gang member, about all he knew was a life of violence and drugs, theft and doing what he wanted and taking when he could.

Today, he is a semi-skilled painter, laborer, willing to work even when he doesn’t know the job. I’ve seen him tackle just about anything to earn a living. He’s cleaned up demolished houses, built flower beds, painted whole houses (interior and exterior) and has tried his hand at roofing, sheetrock, and is learning basic carpentry.

In his words: he was given a chance to become something better.

When this so-called pillar of the community finished his little petty tirade, I asked him point blank: is this what you think God wants you to do? Trash talk them so you can ignore them?

His response told me everything I needed to know. “People have to want to help themselves before you can help them.”

Sadly, I walked away. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference.

One of my goals has been to do something for someone every day. Some days I can’t do much more than offer a word of encouragement, sometimes a dollar, and occasionally I can really splurge and offer something substantial. But every day, I try.

Don’t become indifferent. Don’t look for excuses. Look for opportunities. There are people out there that really do need and want a hand up, but you have to get out there to find them.

The mission field isn’t in front of the pulpit; it is on the sidewalk just down the street. It’s huddled in the cold house across the way. It’s standing in line at the soup kitchen. It’s where the truly needed are searching for hope.

And it’s up to us to find them, not ignore them.

1136411

We have a tendency to make things a lot harder than they really are. Of course, the problem sometimes isn’t us, it’s everyone else.

Over the years, I’ve tried to teach my sons that most of the time, life is not always hard. I sort of jokingly advised them that there are really only three things they needed to do, three simple rules.

1. Take responsibility for your own actions
2. Marry for love
3. Never buy cheap paint.

1. We have a tendency to blame others for our mistakes. One of the greatest strengths of people I’ve learned to admire the most is that they don’t point the finger when things are their fault. They “man up”. But along with that taking of responsibility, they examine their actions and work to turn the mistake into something positive.
2. People tend to marry for so many wrong reasons. I wish I could explain love. Millions of poems and stories have been written about it. Like the cliché, if I have to explain it you probably wouldn’t understand. Looks, money, sex, companionship. How many divorces are there because the criteria for marriage forgot love?
3. You get what you pay for. This is true in not only products but people. Invest wisely in quality. On the other hand, learn that there is a vast difference sometimes in cost and quality. Paying a high price for a cheap item is throwing your money away. There are so many things in life that we fail to examine for quality and accept second best because we just couldn’t wait (see item 2).

Everything I needed to know I learned in Kindergarten?
Not me, everything I needed to know I learned from Rock Lyrics:
Lynyrd Skynyrd taught me that instead of making things so complicated, I really just needed to be a Simple Man



Well mama told me, when I was young
Said sit beside me, my only son
And listen closely to what I say
And if you do this, it'll help you some sunny day

Or take your time don't live to fast
Troubles will come and they will pass
You'll find a woman and you'll find love
And don't forget that there's is a someone up above

Forget your lust for the rich man's gold
All that you need now is in your soul
And you can do this(oh baby)if you try
All that I want from you my son is to be satisfied

Oh don't you worry
You'll find yourself
Follow your heart
And nothing else
And you can do this(oh baby)if you try

All that I want from you my son is to be satisfied
And be a simple kind of man
Be a something that you love and understand
Baby be a simple kind of man
Oh won't you do this for me son if you can(if you can)

**
Learn to love others, love yourself, Love God and then follow your heart.
It really is that simple.
We just make it harder than it really is.

1135019

Isn't love strange?
A word we arrange
With no thought or care
Maker of despair
The Moody Blues From ‘Isn’t Life Strange’

Why is it so hard to say? On the other hand, why is it sometimes so easy to say it without sincerity? Women find it easier to say, unless it is the other love, that one and only person. Then, they find themselves hesitant, waiting to be sure. Most men find it easy to say to women, glibly whispering the words…without meaning them
We’ve found ways to say it without it sounding too intimate.
“I love you, man” became a catch phrase that allowed guys to say it as though joking.
“Love you guys” is a way to end a conversation without actually pinpointing the individual and saying specifically “I love you”.

Funny how we’re becoming more and more capable of expressing hate.
As Larry Norman (Christian singer/songwriter) noted:
the Beatles sang “All You Need is Love” and then they broke up.
And that breakup turned into some real battles.

Or as Meatloaf noted one of his songs “I swore that I’d love you until the end of time.
But God only knows what I can do right now
I'm praying for the end of time
it’s all that I can do'

In our teens, we’re taught that the phrase we hated to hear was “I love you….as a friend”.
Today, we find it difficult to express ourselves to our friends and commit to them what we feel.

I love you.

We are scared to say it for so many reasons (and all of them wrong). Can’t say it man-to-man, can’t say it to any female but my wife/husband. Don’t want it misconstrued as something it isn’t.

Can we get past that teenage angst and say: I love you? As a friend, as a fellow human being, as a fellow traveler on this planet?

Do I have regrets? Many, but the one that haunts me most is and was failing to tell people I loved them, and now it’s too late.

The changing
Of sunlight
to moonlight
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes
The greetings
Of people in trouble
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes

Marmalade (Reflections of my life)

How you deal with it really isn’t my problem. My problem is only that I might miss the chance to tell you.
It’s okay if it is one way.

Hey. Friend. I love you.

1132608

Facing the day.


I chanced upon an old newspaper we used to wrap some stuff in storage. Of course I stopped what I was doing and looked it over, amazed at the changes that have occurred over the years, the ads andwow, the prices!

Turning to the back, I tripped down memory lane. The Sunday Funnies. Comics I haven’t seen for a long time. Strips that my kids don’t recognize. And there, in the middle of the page, a character that I’d forgotten about yet have seen in reality most of my life.
Joe Btfsplk from Dogpatch USA.
Joe was the epitome of bad luck. A dark rain cloud over his head day and night, misfortune followed him everywhere he went and spilled over onto those he was near. I know people just like him.

I’ve noticed him more and more. We are becoming a society filled with negativity. Even when people try to find a way to rise above it, like the proverbial crab bucket the others grab them with claws of woe-is-me and drag them back down.

Over the past few months, I’ve seen both sides up close.
An acquaintance was diagnosed with cancer, a type that while incurable (to date); there are many options and treatments available, along with various changes in diet and some herbal/holistic remedies that offer at least a better quality of life. It’s still in a fairly early stage, so the outlook is measured in years, not months.

On the other hand, there is Nancy. Short term outlook is not good with very few options.

You know what’s coming.

The acquaintance is a miserable human being. The dark cloud grows larger with each day.

In contrast, I wake up to a warm smile and a cheerful good morning. Every day is filled with the joy of being alive. What is more amazing is each day is viewed as gift. Moments of complaining are just wasted minutes.

Why do we ignore the simple lessons of life? I know who I want to be around. I’ve found over the years that I love being around positive people. Oh, we complain about things, but usually the things we complain about were caused or caused by negative people.

I know a little of that ‘dark side’. I suffer from bouts of depression, and I hate it. But, like the old joke about the guy hitting himself in the head with the hammer (it feels so good when I stop) I’ve learned to embrace those infrequent bouts because I know when I get past them how good things really are.

And as I watch and listen to my wife each day, I’ve learned I still have a long way to go.

Each day I pray I can wrap myself in a positive attitude, for both of us. I truly believe that like old Joe, you can have the rain cloud, or with a change in attitude, you get the rainbow.

And at the end, the pot of gold.

1111317

Today, I see the magic of what took place Tuesday night. Like it or not, it was a historic moment in our history. In the past year, those of us who tried to get past the rhetoric and garbage that usually mark a political campaign were able to see that barriers were being shattered.

Glass ceiling? They can say it was cracked but the truth is it has been broken. Now it is just a matter of the right person climbing on through. Race barrier? Knocked down and hopefully it will never be put back in place. Age? It was thrown in the mix the same as gender and race, and just like those supposed restraints, we knew in our hearts it wasn’t age but a slight risk of illness that was the real issue. I wish I had the stamina amd strength exhibited by Sen. McCain.

None of those so-called issues were a barrier to me. Back in the 70s, I got past so many issues and sometimes have trouble understanding people who still cling to them. I look around at the diverse group of friends I have and I realize how much I wish the world could be as loving and accepting.

The past months have caused me to do a lot of looking at myself. No matter how much I like to think I’ve read or talked about facing mortality, when you come face-to-face with it up close and personal, it makes you rethink everything you believe.

This election has been a major part of discussions in my home. For the first time, Nancy has been watching, reading, and learning not only about issues but about the individuals. Our children discuss politics and issues with us, and ask questions that have us running to the computer to Google because we realize we know less about the process than we thought we did.

But Tuesday night was when I came to realize that we’d been following this campaign as a sort of parallel to what we’ve been going through. For months, we’ve been bombarded with news of the ills of the world. On another historic front, our economy crashed and the term Global Market became a true reality. Friends and family were affected by the housing market nose-dive. Wars, rumors of wars, and the terrible costs were a daily factor in the mix of campaign promises. Budgets of states, counties and cities were being decimated and like rain, ice and freezing temperatures can destroy a roadway, slashed funding can leave us with giant potholes in the infrastructure of our country.

I think about my life and many of the things that molded and shaped me into the being I am today. As I reflect on why I chose to vote the way I did, I come to the cold realization that even though many of the promises (or lies) were a part of my decision making process, the moment I entered the voting booth those were not the reason I voted like I did.

Experience taught me long ago that campaign promises are usually broken, that there is no magic wand to solve the ills and problems, that if it was really as simple and easy as putting a person in office, we wouldn’t be in the shape we are in today.

Like millions of others, I don’t think I voted because I thought my candidate would actually fix all of this.

I voted the way I did because for the first time in years I was tired of fear.

Today, the world isn’t better, the sun isn’t brighter, the birds don’t sing any sweeter. And I’ll still be scared at times and I’ll fret and fume and verbally flail at what I don’t understand.

But I’ll not give in to fear.

Today, I cling to hope. Be it physical, mental or spiritual, I cast my vote. And from the reaction around the world, it seems millions share that hope, maybe in a different way but for right now, we share hope.

Do we truly have the power of positive thinking?

I think we have the chance to find out.

Today, as an individual, I’ll give it a try.

After all, what have I got to lose?

In my fellow man, in eternity, in God.

I vote hope.

11286

Way back when, in a time when we were all Americans, I remember a cold but beautiful November day my father took me to a parade. We were living in Latrobe PA at the time and I was probably five years old. This was a time when people lined the streets and cheered the Veterans as they marched down Main Street.

There was large stage on one side of the street, with banners and bunting of red, white and blue. A dozen or so stiff wooden chairs were set in line down the back of the stage, and the men who sat in them were also decorated, the uniforms and ribbons crisp and sharp in the morning light.

While the parade was in honor of all veterans, these were the men who no longer could march, the ones who’d fought the good fight and paid a price.

My father joined in the parade while I stood near the stage, a vantage point given to me because of my father’s volunteer work with the local veterans group. I watched as one of the men on the stage began to cry, and his fellow soldiers each placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

Years later, I sat and watched as the parade came to my home. Friends gathered and honored us by marching through our house. Sort of an interior home-makeover. All the pictures we always intended on hanging were now positioned along the stairway, and oil paintings were placed with care on the walls.

Furniture rearranged to the proper places, with accents and accessories highlighting them, giving the room that decorator touch. A little cleaning, a little polishing, the parade spilled out into the yard as our neighbors spruced up the entryway by redoing the planters, adding a touch of color for the fall. Landon and Laura put a fresh coat of stain on the front door, bringing it back from the dull, weather worn look.

Mr. Sun blessed us on the November day, and the parade was wonderful. Later that evening, as Nancy and I walked through the house admiring each and every thing, I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. I knew she was happy, which certainly filled my heart.

Later, in the stillness of the night, I realized the only sound I heard was her soft breathing.

For the first time in days, there was absolutely no sound of the dragon’s wings. For the first time in days, the tears were tears of joy. Instead of sadness, my heart was full of love.

I sat in the darkness and held her hand, giving thanks that she saw the transformation and magic that happened and that she could not only be honored by the parade, but also witnessed that it was a token of love given by our extended family.

And that, my friends, is priceless.

186113

My wife is dying. There. I said it. We both know it is true. The cancer has returned and the facts are there. Medical science and statistics offer little hope for us. A second round of chemo is scheduled, but the odds are not good, a jumble of numbers that we try to manipulate to fit what our hearts desire.

The looming question that no one has an answer: how long?

Not long enough. It can never be enough. We decide to face it as it is, way too short.

Scrambling to do things. I search websites for information. “Tie up loose ends” is a common theme.
We start a list. Paperwork, taxes, bills. Stuff she has always done and now I need a crash course in how her system works. My mind keeps going in a different direction (part of denial) and I struggle to understand.

No matter what we do, I hear the clock ticking.

As she wears down and goes for a nap, I seek refuge and solace from friends.

The title of a Douglas Adams book is all I can think of to describe this moment.

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul.

What you want and what things are can be such totally different things.
I want to spend every waking moment just drinking her in. Walking, talking, sharing memories, holding her hand and once again expressing my love for her.

Instead, we talk about when the credit card bill is due and how online payments work.

Her steady, logical, analytical and practical mind sees the checklist. She doesn’t want me left with things undone.
I want to hop a plane to the Bahamas, make a mad dash out fishing, stroll along the beach and watch the sunset, then maybe fly to Paris, stroll along under the Arc de Triomphe

Go, see, do, enjoy.

Instead, we prepare for tomorrow when we tackle the past due taxes and more paperwork.
**

Her favorite movie is The Big Chill. I can hear her singing with the soundtrack,

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.

It’s 4 a.m.

I hold her hand as she sleeps. She rests quietly.
Right now, I have what I need.

1791102

You don’t look sick.

From the first time I had to report out at school until I retired, I’ve heard that phrase. Never liked it, never understood it.

I once asked how sick I needed to look to have the flu. Stuff oozing from my nostrils, eyes blearing red and weepy, skin pale to the point of translucent, a faint aura around me brought on by the heavy fever? Should I be heaving the remains of my last meal all over the floor?
Oh, I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

I guess I’m a little sensitive because as I sit and watch my beautiful wife sleeping through another episode of CSIsomething, I ache, because she doesn’t look sick.

The magic potion Megace was like Emeril’s Bam…kicking her appetite up a notch. She’s been drinking hot tea and earlier had an apple. Her skin is smooth, the color good (so far as I can tell color anyway) and right now she has a look that can only be described as peaceful.

Not sick.

But I know the truth.

And the deception throws me into such a tailspin and if I try really hard, I can stare at her and for just a second, I can make myself believe it is a dream, this is not really happening. But my heart won’t let that second grow any longer.

I pull the blanket around her and kiss her good night.

She doesn’t look sick
and if you see me out and about, I probably don't look heartbroken

Sorry.

I tried. I sat for two hours, typing dozens of pages, but deleted each and every one.

I have no words of wisdom, nor do I care to share my feelings this morning. I thought I did, until I wrote the words in my heart.

We don’t know what the doctor will say, but we also know we face the inevitable…if not today, tomorrow.



Today, I have nothing to share. Today, I come to you asking a favor. .

Pray.

Pray that we find the strength to accept whatever is facing us.
Pray that Nancy is blessed with peace.
Pray for my family.

Please pray, for today we need it more than ever.

143

“It’s better to look good than feel good”

So says Billy Crystal in his role as Fernando Lama on SNL. “You look Mahvelous” he’d exclaim to all.

Too often we take outside appearance to mean all is well inside.

This struck me recently when a close friend commented on how great Nancy looked. Unknown to him, it had been a true ‘dragon’ day and she struggled to add a little makeup, dress her best, and put on a good appearance. We left early because she was fatigued and ached to the bone.

For years, I heard managers comment on employees when they went home during the day. “He didn’t look sick”. I’m not sure what they were looking for. I’ve visited many a patient at the hospital that didn’t look sick.

But aren’t we just as bad to quickly judge people? Can we tell in a glance when someone is having a ‘dragon’ day?

A few weeks ago, someone asked me how I was doing. Great, I responded. Doing well.

I lied. I’d only had a few hours sleep, I was stressed beyond belief, my knee was hurting like never before, and it seemed like bricks were being stacked on my shoulders.

“How’s things with you?”

“Going good, things are fine”.

A few days later I ran into him again.

“How are things?” I asked

“Great” he said. And he looked it. Tanned, well-groomed, I even commented on the fit of his suit.

“Oh, that. Well, I’m on my way to meet with XX and her attorney. She filed for divorce.”

It was then that I could see the pain in his eyes. I offered my sympathy.

“Yeah. The timing is great. I guess I don’t have to worry about her getting the house, though. I got the foreclosure notice yesterday.”

But he looked ‘mahvelous’.

So don’t be surprised when the next time we meet and I ask “How are you doing?” if I follow it up with “you are in my prayers”. I may not know what is going on in your life, but I know that life is messy, and sometimes “doing great” is a façade.

So, “How ya’ doing?”

Good…I’m praying for you.

Somewhere on the Gulf Coast of FL

It’s 4:30 am, and very dark. There are no outside lights because they would disturb the turtles on the beach (something to do with either mating or hatching eggs…not sure). The weather forecast is for partly cloudy, but right now it is mostly cloudy and very little moonlight. I’ve been sitting here for about an hour.

Until recently, I’ve rarely taken time to just sit. As an ADHD person, sitting is not one of my strong points. Even now, I have to suppress that desire to get up and do something. But I’m learning. I guess because I was always doing something, I never noticed too much how other people were. Oh, I occasionally thought maybe some folks were “lazy” because they didn’t get up at 5 and go until midnight. And I’ll admit, I wondered about people who took an entire afternoon, sitting in their recliners/sofas and watched a ballgame.

When Nancy became ill, I found myself in a foreign land. I’ve always been susceptible to stress (but think I deal with it well) and lack of sleep, but rarely have I found myself dysfunctional…or at least to that point. Many mornings I found myself sitting out back with Max and Molly, literally stunned into inaction. My body rebelled and refused to get up and go, and my mind sometimes felt locked down. I couldn’t think about work, houses, or worse, financial issues. Oh, I didn’t shut completely down, I pushed myself into doing what needed doing, but that first hour was a new time for me.

Gradually, I turned to prayer and a lot of self-examination. I’ve an innate sense of curiousity, and I just had to take apart feelings and thoughts. The more I looked inward, I found the better I felt outward (most of the time). Was this meditation? Those who are left-brained (those infuriatingly logical people) who never experience ADHD won’t understand this breakthrough. For those few who live daily with the fast-pace of ADHD, you’ll get it. It’s like the image I once saw of an interstate with layers and layers of interchanges and suddenly they all were at a standstill.

And like a traveler on that interstate, at first I wonder what caused the standstill. I keep waiting for traffic to resume. After a while, I step out, looking behind me, in front, wondering how long this will take. Eventually, I resign myself to the fact that I need to make the best of it, so I find a napkin (left from fast food, no doubt) and use it to wipe down the dashboard. Then, I start straightening up the glove box. Still no movement? I fish an old plastic bag from under the seat and set to cleaning out the entire car. I remember I have some spray stuff in the trunk, so I work on the tires. I step back and wonder why I never took time to clean my vehicle.

Such is my time alone now. Why didn’t I take time to clean out my mind, organize my thoughts, or take time to talk to God?

I hear the sound of traffic in the background and realize I have one tire shiny, the other three still dirty, but it is a start.

This morning, I hear the coffee pot as it finishes. My internal traffic is starting up. I look out the window just as there is a break in the clouds. I can see the shoreline, with a few spots of white sand peeking through the trees. My thoughts may not be completely organized, but I've started. With one shiny tire, I’m ready to face the day.

The Winds of Change

It is something that has permeated the news and our thoughts for the past18 months (if not, how is life on mars?).

Change. We want it, but we fear it. Facing change in so many instances dictates our actions and reactions more than we realize. Some people say they embrace change, while others fear it enough to fight it. Clinging to the status quo. At my old job, we always joked about if you like change, just wait a few days and the company will change. Some of the biggest battles I had as a union rep were brought about because people couldn’t adapt to change.

Usually, I like change. Maybe it’s a result of my attention deficit disorder, or maybe I just don’t care for stagnation, for the feeling of ‘being in a rut’. Most of the time I face change head-on, rushing into it like a linebacker to a quarterback. But not all change is good. Sometimes change drops on us in return like the aforementioned linebacker, knocking us to the ground. One of the things we fear about change is our lack of control over it. It comes from nowhere and sometimes blindsides us.

As I sat with Max and Molly, I thought about the impact of changes over the past year. A sort of unplanned retirement, a son getting married, a granddaughter on the way, another son making the decision to leave college and come back home. Possible knee surgery in the very near future, then we have world-wide financial crisis that doesn’t just trickle down but becomes a torrential downpour. Some I have a degree of control over, some just happen and I go with the flow.

But as I wrangle to adapt to the changes, I look deeper. How do changes change us? Did the changes I’ve made make me a better person? I’d like to think so. I hope I’ve become a better father, with both kids back in town. I think retirement has been good in so many unexpected ways. The knee problems has certainly given me greater insight into the challenges and pitfalls of being handicapped. The financial crisis made me examine my priorities and my cluttered life of “stuff”.

And the most important change was brought about by the most drastic change, Nancy’s illness. My world changed that day unlike any other moment. Each and every day I struggle to understand the total impact on our lives. I no longer look at things the same way. My priorities were scrambled and I have begun a long process of reorganization of what is really important to me. This is not something done easily.

But one thing changed almost immediately, and that was my spiritual path. In war torn countries, people constantly have to take different routes due to the destructive nature of bombs on roads and bridges. Sometimes, they simply go off-road and create a new way.

I’ve pretty much always had a strong background in faith and ‘religion’, but this is new and uncharted territory for me. Some of my beliefs no longer seem on solid ground, and I spend days moving debris of old thoughts and theories. A ritual of spiritual self-examination is now becoming a morning ritual. In the series of books by Stephen Donaldson, the ‘hero’ Thomas Covenant is a leper and constantly has to scan himself physically to ensure there has been nothing damaging to his body. He has had to learn a higher degree of vigilance.

It is so easy to let circumstances and events change us for the worse, to become bitter and angry. To paraphrase Billy Graham, we can let our ‘milk of human kindness spoil’.

I hope that you too will start taking a little time to reflect, to question, and to realize that we need to scan our hearts as well as our bodies, that our spirits need to be examined, that we need to be vigilant in checking to be sure we are in good shape.

My song this morning is from LifeHouse; Winds of Change

in the still of the night it shines so clear
and the comfort of finding it here
and as I walk the night gets colder
and I know that I don't know
and it seems as I get older
my life goes over
in the winds of change

I guess nothing turned out like I planned
everything's sure to fall out of hand
and it takes a lot to find it
and it takes a lot I know
to believe that there is meaning
inside this moment
in the winds of change

as it turns you upside down
as confusing as it seems
keep your head high and your feet on the ground
and turn and chase your dreams
in the winds of change
****
PEACE

This has been a weekend of flashbacks.

So many times, my memories were flooded with a wedding 35 years ago. As friends and family joined us this weekend, I found myself reflecting on so many events of the past years.

I have had a wonderful life.

Oh, there were many peaks and valleys, and far too many ditches I ran into on the road, but I have loved living my life.

As I sat quietly this morning, sitting here in the room with nothing but the sound of Nancy’s gentle breathing as she slept, I drifted back over the years and thought of all the great times, great friends, and even spent a little time going over some of the bad things that we went through.

But we muddled through them, and came out stronger. As we faced each crisis and went through that fire, our bonds of love were forged and strengthened, as were friendships.

It is good every once in a while to think of the past, remembering where you came from and what you went through, as long as you can do it with some honesty. I face the reality that so many times, sheer luck and the grace of God were all that kept me from being just another statistic, that many decisions that seem so wise today were impulsive and not very smart, again…just luck.

I look back at the many things that shaped my faith and gave me courage. I see the ‘footprints in the sand’. Sometimes there were many footprints, as the Angels walked with me, apparently shielding me from my own stupidity.

In these days of doom and gloom, constant crisis and fear, it is good to look back. Think about how many times you thought you were facing the biggest crisis in your life… and yet here you are today and that event doesn’t quite look so bad. How many of those times are you now seeing as blessings instead, since they threw you on a slightly different path?

It’s a simple phrase, but sums it up: Life is good.

I find a song and kick back to enjoy: The Beatles

In My Life

There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends i still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When i think of love as something new
Though i know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life i love you more
Though i know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life i love you more
In my life i love you more

A magic moment. Over 100 people gathered, each heart lifted by the scene of two people dedicating their lives to each other. A truly wonderful setting: the lawn of a newly restored 100+ year old Victorian home, an absolutely gorgeous sunny day as we settled under the shade of dozens of trees with their fall foliage just starting.

And a couple in love, starting their lives together as man and wife.

My wish for them is simple.

I wish for them the happiness that Nancy & I have been blessed with all these years. I want Justin to wake up each morning knowing his mate was not the correct choice of his but a blessing from God.

I want Chrissie to go to sleep at night, secure that while life may be hard sometimes, her husband will be at her side through it all.

And I want Sophia Abernathy Wright to grow up knowing that she is loved every bit as much as the respective parents, family and friends loved her parents yesterday evening.

Thank you all for being there, if not in person, in spirit.


Last night, Nancy asked me if I remember how I felt on our wedding day.

My answer: Every Day.

This morning I listened to a song that summed it all up for me. I hope you’ll go to the video and listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4_x24cVHr8


He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts
Rest assured this troubadour is acting on His part.
The union of your spirits, here, has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name
There is Love. There is Love.

Well a man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home
And they shall travel on to where the two shall be as one.
As it was in the beginning is now and until the end
Woman draws her life from man and gives it back again.
And there is Love. There is Love.

Well then what's to be the reason for becoming man and wife?
Is it Love that brings you here or Love that brings you life?
Or if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for?
Do you believe in something that you've never seen before?
Oh there's Love, there is Love.
Oh the marriage of your spirits here has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name
There is Love. Oh there's Love.

Asking directions

One of the observations I’ve had while doing the motorcycle thing is that overwhelmingly my riding partners hate to ask directions. They’ll gather around a faded printout from a Google or MapQuest map, studying the little lines like ancient runes on a cave wall, everyone pointing in a different direction while not being certain where we even are at that moment.

Me, I’ve learned to love to stop and go in somewhere and ask. I’ve met some of the nicest and kindest folks on earth who don’t mind admitting that they don’t even know how to get out of town. I’ve met little old ladies who will give you minute details of each landmark but cannot tell you the name of the highway; I’ve talked to guys from Egypt, Pakistan, Iraq and one from Kenya.

Many of the clerks are young ladies in their 20s, trying to get by on a minimum wage check. Most are either single moms or from their talk they are about to be (single, that is). In almost every instance though there is a common thread.

If they aren’t busy, they all love to talk and laugh. Even the sourpuss at the Stop and Get It in somewhere Mississippi (if I knew, I wouldn’t stop to ask directions). At 24, she had the attitude of a 20-year veteran of convenient stores. She was surly with the two customers in front of me and when I stepped up to the counter, her frown deepened.

There I stood, black T-shirt covered by a leather vest, black do-rag on my head, worn blue-jeans and heavy leather boots, fingerless leather gloves and a pair of biker glasses shoved back on my head. Just another dummy lost on the highway.

“Some mornings it just doesn’t pay to chew through the leather straps and escape, does it?”

She moved her hand slightly toward the cell phone on the counter.

I laid the worn map on the counter and tried again. “I know where I am I just don’t know where this is on the map. I don’t mind going back where I came from, if you’ll just point out how I got here. And I know I probably can’t get there from here so if you’ll just send me somewhere else then show me how to get there from there, that’d be a big start.”

I noticed the corners of her lips sort of quiver as they turn up toward a smile.

“Honey (I knew I had her there…when a southern gal calls you honey, you know it’s going to be okay) I don’t know where you’re headed or where you’re from, but if you wound up here, you gotta be lost. No one comes here from somewhere else on purpose. Let’s see if I can get you to somewhere else.”

I learned she’d been working there 3 years, had son “fixin” to start school this year. Married at 16, divorced at 17 (she and her brothers pitched him out when he decided to take his depression out on her). She was pregnant when they married, miscarried, then got pregnant again right before the divorce. He was going to start school this fall. She just received her first child support check and her lawyer let her keep it all even though she owed him money. Her dream was to open her own beauty shop; she already did hair in her mama’s garage. Two nights a week she made almost as much as her day job. I wished her luck, both with the job and the child. She wished me well on my journey and got me back on the road with a free cup of coffee.
She stepped outside as I saddled up. Her smile stayed with me for many miles down the road.


I hum a little Simon and Garfunkel:

kathy, Im lost, I said, though I knew she was sleepingI
m empty and aching and I dont know why
Counting the cars on the new jersey turnpike
Theyve all gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
***
I don’t mind asking directions… on the side roads or highways of life you need all the help you can get. Sometimes you give as good as you get.

Max and Molly wander around; slightly confused at the new paths they have to take. Sawhorses, supplies, buckets and various tools impede their normal routes. The holly bushes have been trimmed and their hiding place underneath is now raked and exposed. The temporary fencing we put up (how long is temporary before it grows into permanent?) has been rearranged and now stops them from going back to the areas where they’ve killed the grass.

Their world is in chaos.

Yet they are still on familiar ground. They sniff, scratch, and pace back and forth over the yard until they seem to adapt to the new. They don’t bark or snarl at the changes, but continue to explore. I think if Max could shrug his shoulders, he would. After about 10 minutes, he just goes to his pen, gets a drink and stands and stares. Like Eeyore, he just thinks.

I’ve been watching and listening to a lot of friends express the chaos in their lives. This seems to be an extremely stressful time for almost everyone for some reason. We’ve all taken on some major projects and commitments and every once in a while our emotions run high and our nerve endings are sticking out about a foot from our bodies.

It’s a moments like this that I sit and think about ten years ago. What were the major issues and overwhelming problems then? Can I remember them? Even if I can, I had to stop and trace back the timeline.

The point is I got through it and over it. I’m sure what ever it was, I stressed and agonized and in spite of everything, it worked out. Maybe not favorably, but today it hardly matters.

Nancy can tell you, I’m not the “logic” person in our household. Sometimes I’m like the robot on Lost in Space, flailing my arms while shouting “Danger Danger Will Robinson”.
But with her calm hand, my ranting and raving fades and I then assess the situation and try to figure out what we need to do next.

My time with the union taught me that the first question should be “what is the problem” followed by “what solution do I want”. Once that is established, I try to figure out what needs to be done to reach that solution. It is usually right there that I have some problems sometimes, because unlike Max and Molly, I don’t want to be flexible and learn to adapt to the changes I need to make.

That’s where I stop and ask myself, what will it matter 10 years down the road? How earth shattering is compromise? Do I have to “win”?

A whole lot of the stress we have is self-imposed. I ponder the Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

My version goes more like: Grant me the intelligence to know there are some things I cannot change without you, and that some things You will not change for a reason.

I’m afraid too much of the time, I use the Calvin and Hobbes version:
The strength to change what I can, the inability to accept what I can't
and the incapacity to tell the difference."

What can I change today? First order of business, right after that next cup of joe: change my attitude about the things I face today. Change my attitude in the way I deal with people today. Change the way I allow things to affect me and my relationship with others and God.

I crank up a little Buffett (Jimmy, not Warren)

With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of my running and all of my cunning
If I couldn’t laugh I just would go insane
If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane
If we weren’t all crazy we would go insane

Saddle up…it’s back on that Highway……….

Belief. Faith.

Do you have them?

What about belief in others, faith in your fellow (wo)man?

Yesterday I received a video via email. A keynote speaker at the Dallas Independent School district. (http://www.dallasisd.org/keynote.htm).
What a simple but powerful message!

And it made me question my own belief and faith in my fellow man.

Does my belief end when they graduate? Is there an age limit to believing in the potential of others?

Why are we willing to discard perfectly good human beings?

I see it every day.

I think about the starfish story. If you know it, just skip on past, although reading it again still makes me stop and think.
***
The Starfish adapted from The Star Thrower by Loren Eiseley (1907 - 1977)
***
Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean.""I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."
****

Every day we pass up opportunities to make a difference to someone.
The question is, have we lost our ability to believe? Have we lost faith in humanity?

So many of us have become cynical about helping others. A good friend recently commented that he’d been burned so many times he needed asbestos pants.

But I know for a fact that at least one of those starfish survived.

I’ve been fortunate to have had someone believe in me for most of my life. She believes I can do anything, achieve anything, and become anything. Together, we’ve tried to pass that along…to our children, to our friends, and at times to perfect strangers.

And what did we get in return?

The Big Payoff.

Every penny spent, every second spent, every bit of what we gave came back in one simple statement.

“Thanks for believing in me”.

Those moments are more precious than gold.

And you know what?
I believe in you.

I kicked off the morning with Alanis Morrisette "One Hand In My Pocket"

I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy,
yeah I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby
What it all comes down to Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five

I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid I'm tired but I'm working,
yeah I care but I'm worthless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette
What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign
I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken s***
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet

I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano
What it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxicab...
I've got one hand in my pocket And the other one is giving a high five
*****

A few of my biker friends have stickers on their helmets that say : never ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.

According to a survey quoted in Time (http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1842179,00.html)
About 55% of Americans believe in Guardian Angels. If you Google “guardian angels” you’ll find hundreds of pages explaining everything from what they are, how the Bible discusses and views them, to people who make $ convincing you that they can “contact” your personal angel.

Buyer Beware!

Over the course of my life, I’ve been very convinced that someone is watching over me, be it a guardian angel or what, I’m not sure, but upon deep examination I am convinced also that it is the Hand of God in someway.

Far too many close calls that were a little to abruptly stopped. A couple of times were I physically patted myself to be sure I was still here. Several traffic mishaps where the oncoming vehicle should not have been able to stop. A 28’ fall from a roof where I landed in the only pile of leaves in the area…no bruises, nothing. A brush with a high-voltage line that never even shocked me…when it should have fried me.
Like the “footprints in the sand” I look back and see many moments where a shield was placed around me.

I can also see the moments when I rode faster that he/she could fly. That resulted in some serious issues. I guess I believe I shouldn’t try to find their limits.
It also makes me question, if I can believe in guardian angels, are there demons assigned to mess with me? Is that why I have some of the little accidents?
Do the angel and demon spend the day trying to get to me first?
Does my faith (or lack thereof) give leverage to one or the other?

Guess I’ll go with the belief that the stronger my faith, the more the demon attacks, but the stronger and more agile the angel.
Balance. Works for me. Besides, the real issue isn’t here and now but later, and there is where I head…with or without angels and demons. And in it all, I give thanks to God for another day to work and play.

But I’ll try to give my angel a rest today and take it slow: As Jack Burton (Big Trouble in Little China) says:

“Never drive faster than you can see”
That ought to cover it.


****NOTE: want to comment? just click on the comment link below and type away!

For the first time, I actually hit writer’s block!

Not because I couldn’t find something to write about, but because no matter what I wrote my thoughts kept coming back to the same subject. Guess I need to get that out of my system so I can move on. Heregoes.

I’m sick and tired of hate. I recently read where a politician referred to those who opposed this person as “haters”. I get dozens of hate-filled emails about politics daily. I’ve received a hate email because I chose to visit a synagogue. I’ve watched and listened as many good people have been slandered because of personal agendas in our city. I’ve heard school children shout hate at individuals on the street (encouraged by adults with them). I’ve witnessed people that I thought were good Godly folks suddenly fill with rage and go into hate filled rants over something small. I’ve seen road rage (while a passenger) and the person driving was someone I admire.

What can I do?

Walk the walk, talk the talk.

Every day I find myself doing a quick once over examination of my actions and principles. No, I’m not up to snuff…that really isn’t the question. I do stop and take a look at what I’ve done and said and tried to figure out what I could do in the future to make myself a better person.

I can be sure that if I’m going to claim to be a person of God that my words and deeds reflect that. Will I fail? Probably. Oh, and those haters will pounce on it and throw it back, but that’s okay. I’m not out to please them.

I remember as a child in the church, how there would be a revival service and folks would stream down to the front to rededicate their lives to the Lord. Even then, I wondered…why don’t we do that every morning?

It’s a new day. Rededicate yourself to becoming a better person.

See you at the next rest stop.

who, what, when, where, and sometime Y?

While I’ve enjoyed the posting to Nancy’s Journal, I’ve had a few self-imposed restraints. After all, it’s Nancy’s page, not mine. As time went by, I felt sort of like Seyt in the book “What Entropy Means to me” (my favorite book of all time). In the book, his brother, Dore, sets off on a quest to find their father and he doesn’t return. Meanwhile, their family demands to know what is happening with Dore so Seyt publishes his adventures, inventing them as he goes along.

I moved from my original purpose of writing about Nancy to suddenly writing about me, my quest and journey, and that detracts from what the Care Page is really for, keeping everyone informed about her. I’ll continue to post updates on her health and well-being, but it seems some of you enjoy sharing my moments of introspect and soul-searching. I get messages and emails when I fail to post something for a few days, so I know a few of you expect something.

For me, it’s a form of therapy. I’m not sick, so it was very difficult for me to understand the vast range of emotions I was going through. While I cannot say I had a crisis of faith, I was suffering a personal crisis within. Writing made me examine things on a new level and that translated into helping me through some of the issues. Thanks for allowing me to rant.

So why Vagabond?
From Wikipedia: A vagabond is an (generally impoverished) itinerant person. Such people may be called tramps, rogues, or hobos. A vagabond is characterized by almost continuous travelling, lacking a fixed home, temporary abode, or permanent residence. Vagabonds are not bums, as bums are not known for travelling, preferring to stay in one location. The critic Arthur Compton-Rickett compiled a review of the type, in which he defined it as men "with a vagrant strain in the blood, a natural inquisitiveness about the world beyond their doors." Examples included Henry David Thoreau, Walt Whitman, William Hazlitt, and Thomas de Quincey.[2] A notable 20th century vagabond was the Hungarian mathematician Paul Erdös. (not that I'm in their league!) Most of my life I've been a sort of spiritual vagabond. Wandering about, sampling and partaking as I went, never quite settling down because I just keep learning. Life is a test, and death is the pop quiz.

The second reason is a continuing story I wrote to/for Nancy while she was in college. The protagonist was a woodsman who traveled throughout, serving as a sort of game warden for the King. In the first chapter, he assisted a caravan that had been attacked by highwaymen. He agreed to travel with them to the next town which was several days away. At night, he verbally sparred with the various members of the caravan about the true meaning of love. Rather than reveal his true name, he told them to simply call him what he was, a vagabond. Vagabond soon found himself in deep discussions with a beautiful young lady that he assumed was the wagonmaster's daughter. Later, after many discussions, arguments and admonishments, he discovers she is the King’s daughter.
Since writing that story, I’ve always referred to Nancy as “Milady” and she to me as Vagabond.
What are my credentials?
I've been writing for many years. I've been a contributing writer for the Germantown News, I've written dozens of short stories, did rough drafts of three novels, and have written numerous newsletter articles. At a writing seminar, I was asked by a known author if I wanted to be a writer. I said yes. He then asked if I'd written anything. Again, yes. "Then you are already a writer, you just aren't published". Since that time, I have been published, so I guess I can put "author, writer" on my resume. But as another writer told me, that is sort of like the term "Doctor". The title doesn't make you a good one. So as I wander about, putting pen to paper (well, fingers to keyboard), bear with me. I may not be a good writer, but I plan on getting better as I go along. I specialize in Murder, as you'll see by the way I treat the English Language. I prefer to think I write in the vernacular...the language I hear on the open road of Life's Highway. So off we go on this journey and hopefully we won't ask what the bumper sticker asks:
Where are we going and why are we in this hand basket???


Please feel free to post your thoughts in return via email:OUR3TC@GMAIL.COM
And don’t worry, after getting rejection letters from publishers, your criticisms won’t hurt a bit.