TIME TO MAKE A CHANGE PART I

A few months ago I received an e-mail from a friend who happened to also be the owner of the company I had my real estate license with at that time. It was entitled “Time to make a change” and it spelled out some rather significant changes the company would very soon be making and how they would impact everyone’s business (and clearly mine). I wasn’t shocked, surprised, angry, sad or disappointed. In fact I felt nothing at all…except perhaps a small amount of relief. I was fighting a battle (not as quietly or privately as I had thought) to regain my life and a more meaningful sense of normalcy to it all (I still don’t have a clue what “normal” is but it’s been interesting trying to find it out to be sure). So I did what most people do in similar situations… acted like everything was fine and kept looking for answers to unknown questions I hadn’t thought of yet. It should have been a mental train wreck but, oddly enough, it turned out not to be entirely. It was more like a demolition derby where a car gets sideswiped and ends up balanced on two wheels as it scoots around the track looking for a place to land on all four wheels again for a moment. You discover you can do things you didn’t know you could do and probably weren’t supposed to do in situations like that. Even worse…there are rules and laws of some form that say you shouldn’t have done those things without serious consequences. So what did this have to do with that e-mail? Everything and nothing really it just opened a door to move in a different direction I hadn’t entirely considered before that. Because of that e-mail I gave my real estate license up because after enduring every test known to man during that time and over the past few months since it was determined I shouldn’t be working, driving, standing for extended periods of time or lifting a whole lot of stuff so that pretty much ruled real estate out, Wal-Mart greeter…pretty much the same thing and to make matters worse, I don’t look good in blue. So today June 12, 2012, exactly sixteen years to the day my real estate career has officially come to and end, it probably should have happened sooner. Am I even a little sad or disappointed? Not really. I found myself slowly moving towards a career and lifestyle I probably should have never abandoned…even a little bit, and I find myself becoming more and more at peace with ME each and every day. The interesting thing about my particular predicament is that I’ve had the opportunity to observe a great many things up close which has caused me at times to look deeper into a variety of issues that seem to have many people’s panties in a bunch. I can’t honestly say I’ve found solutions for many of these issues…but I do see glimmers of hope that have been hiding right in front of us all but we’ve all been too busy or caught up in our own lives to notice. Here are a few examples: DISCLAIMER: First and foremost I’m going to disappoint some of you and piss a few of you off…get over it. I’m going to talk about issues like politics and religion and not take sides. Even though many of you would like to believe otherwise there are no right or wrongs when it comes to these subjects and as you all follow along with the bouncing ball I think you’ll understand where I’m coming from when everything is said and done. It’s an election year. This means that a large number of politicians from the President on down to Street Sweeper is re-applying for their jobs or trying to replace someone else for whatever job is open. It’s part of what makes this country great and seemingly different from other political models. That may have been true once upon a time but, I suspect, isn’t so much anymore. When this country was formed our forefathers were big fans of two very prominent philosophers who proposed that government belonged to the people and they were intelligent enough and rational enough to have a say in how government operated without the dictatorial musings of monarchs and/or people of supposed better lineage and educational superiority. The two philosophers were Thomas Pain and Adam Smith who gave us strong foundations to our country like laws should be created with the “highest and best use for the most people” and the economic model we still use today. Anyone who isn’t deaf, blind and stupid (or in a coma) knows that laws today are created for the fewest, the noisiest and the most well funded regardless of what side of the isle the bill’s sponsor sits on or what impact such a law would have on the public at large. In this day and age politicians come into office with a pocket full of IOU’s none of which are made out to their constituency. To make the issues worse today’s politicians are groomed to be there. They aren’t there because they feel a genuine responsibility to the community and country they live in. It’s because they’re the child of or went to school with so and so or are strategically planted by some special interest group… that and all the “bennies” they’ll get during plus if and when they ever retire at the taxpayer’s expense. Our economic model is almost two-hundred and forty years old. One would think we should be working on a new one that actually factors in the current global economy instead trying to use band-aids and quick fixes on the old ones. We should stop bailing industries out run by inept and greedy people who take the money and give themselves bonuses and pay raises out of it while cutting salaries and healthcare for employees below a certain pay scale and then try and make it mandatory for people to have healthcare and pay for it out of their own pockets. We should make budget cuts that make sense for everyone not an “I’ll give you this if you give me that” cut, there’s already enough pork in the country’s system to give us all heart attacks. Do two-hundred and eighty-nine people need to handle and generate paperwork for the purchase of one hammer? I think not. Do we need the hammer? I would hope so. Should it take less than six people to get it from point A to point B, probably but will that likely happen, probably not, it makes too much sense. Government is obscenely bloated at all levels and it’s not because of fast food or pork products. Other than Greece we have more government employees doing absolutely nothing all day than most other countries in the world. Many that actually do something generally do it wrong so the few that do have a brain and are trying to make a difference are overworked and by private sector standards…underpaid. We can’t seemingly afford to hire qualified people to do the jobs quickly and efficiently and pay them what they’re worth…but we can hire a dozen “fog a mirror” people and Uncle Bert’s illegitimate moron twins and use up what budget we do have. Believe me I have experienced this and more of late first hand to the point I can’t sleep at night anymore. We should do away with the Republican and Democratic Parties. Neither says anything that makes sense anymore. There’s no contrasting political opinion exchanged these days just playground name calling. They all say the same things and just use different words to sound clever. The voting ballots shouldn’t have names or political affiliations on them anymore. Under each political office we should simply have “Dumb” and “Dumber” and let the public vote on those names. Then the candidates would draw a name from a hat to see which one they were. It would have the same importance and impact when everything is said and done. Many people believe change is good…and I’m one of them but change for the sake of change may not necessarily be so and just because you see something as an injustice it doesn’t mean everyone agrees with you or that you’ve thought it completely out. Arizona has been a breeding ground for such things the past few years. Such an example is SB1070. I’m not going to divulge my personal opinion of this bill other than to say there are some really good points to it and some really stupid points to it as well. It also has been one of the funniest political drama’s I’ve witnessed in a long time that, sadly, illustrates how our political system has decayed. We can blame the press and news media in general for this. When all of this stuff hit the fan people divided themselves quickly into two main camps…those for it and those against it. The media swarmed all over them like mosquito’s on exposed bodies getting reaction from the crowds. Now there must be a class all journalism students must take on how to find the dumbest person in any group to interview. So after the quick sound bite speeches from the politician sponsoring the bill and those against it the journalists sought out “public opinion”. For the “pro” side they found a fuzzy vet obviously between visits to the Happy Hour at the local VFW hall who couldn’t say anything without being offensive. For the opposition they found a diminutive middle aged woman who could barely speak English and only seemed to know how to say “But WE were here first!” at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately they were both horribly wrong. The Hispanic community is very much an integral part of Arizona and has been from day one. They don’t deserve backhanded bigotry. That being said…they weren’t the first. The Native American Indian was. The Spanish/Mexican’s and the Whites showed up in a tour bus years later. With that the battle lines were drawn and the political positioning started and before long disruptions spilled out of the Capital complex. Politicians proved how stupid they could really be on a nightly news show and the intrepid reporters would always find someone in a rundown trailer park in what’s left of a house dress and hair styled by a weed whacker, holding a cigarette in one hand and a half full bottle of Thunderbird in the other saying “I saw the whoooole thing and it was just awful…just awful” … and now back to you Steve while I prepare my Emmy acceptance speech. Tomorrow…Religion! Won’t that be fun? Time for a change yet…maybe…kinda…sorta?

SHOW AND TELL

I hated “Show and Tell” when I was a kid. I wasn’t sure I wanted the whole world to know what interested me. I wasn’t embarrassed or even remotely ashamed of any of it…I just didn’t think it was anybody’s damned business but mine. The older I got the more I hated the whole concept. Over the past several months I have been asked fairly often why I don’t talk about sex more (especially considering where my musings get posted a lot of the time). So I sat down and gave some serious thought to those questions over the past several days. Interestingly enough I came up with a reasonably simple answer and here it is…because it’s easier to show you than tell you about it. As much as I hate to make that statement (if I had hair it would be standing up right now) it’s quite true. The old saying “Actions speak louder than words” couldn’t possibly ring truer than when it comes to the subject of sex. Anyone can talk a good game…few can actually play it. I can talk (or write) all day to the point of exhaustion about how and where I would touch my lover and the heat, smells and moisture it would create. I can describe the surroundings, the atmosphere and possibly the sounds created by both the environment and the mechanics that would be generated by such an opportunity but they would only ignite the imagination. To be physically present and involved would be the “proof in the pudding” so to speak. Sadly we’ve brought the need for this upon ourselves. People have been seduced by words since language was invented. Unfortunately as we have evolved (or de-evolved in some cases) language has become an afterthought. “UR so HOT” or U make me…whatever appearing on your phones text box seldom arouses anyone over the age of ten (I hope). Forum pages on many of the sites my wife and I subscribe to are filled with posting from “Hey look at ME” members asking questions they really don’t want a serious answer to like “What’s your favorite position?” or “What kind of lube do you use?” and so on. What they really want is for someone to tell them they’re hot and flirt with them and possibly even make a date with them…only for people to discover the posters are sexually inept fools (but they do look good). Another reason why seeing, touching and experiencing…is believing. You’re not going to get graphic descriptions of my latest experiences or conquests from me. My ego is healthy enough without bragging about such things for personal fulfillment. I may use excerpts of those things to illustrate a point but it’s hardly a conscious effort to seduce you I have other places I can do that in if the need arises. If you want to know something I will honestly answer your question but be prepared for an answer you may not like or a response of “I can’t tell you, I can only show you.” It’s not a “come-on” it’s merely a simple fact. To this day I still don’t like to talk about what interests me…I’d rather show you so you can better understand it for real.

DISPICABLE ME

…Cute movie, I know, but this isn’t about a movie. It’s about a great many other things and whether or not I fall under the term “despicable” in some, many or all cases of my life. Fear not my friends. I will not ask you to weigh in with your opinion of my life and if I qualify for such a title. I’m merely using this moment to sort a few things out that have come to my attention of late and determine if there’s any importance attached to them in the broad scheme of things. Everyone has done things in their lives that, at one point or another, have later regretted doing or not doing. Some by design, some by accident and when the misdeed is discovered we all try and reconcile the transgression with the parties involved. There are always things we could have done or should have done better or differently or things we wished we had done when we had the chance. Why? Because we’re human and humans make mistakes and as a human we want to feel liked and accepted…unless we’re sociopaths or is there possibly another explanation or two out there? I have been called many things in my life due to my often blunt (and equally cruel) honesty. “Curmudgeon” is one of my favorites. It’s not that I’m incapable of diplomacy it’s just that on many occasions I either can’t see the need or have the patience for it. There’s no point in blowing sunshine up someone’s ass while telling them they’re acting like an idiot. Many a person who has sung my praises as a writer, diplomat and statesman over my life has also been cut off at the knees mid-sentence more than once as well. If I’m right…I’m right. It’s seldom a “shoot from the hip” answer and I will always be happy to show you where my informed opinion came from. If I have no opinion about something or have heard something as hearsay…you’ll know that. If I’m wrong about something and you can prove me wrong I will willingly admit it without anger, embarrassment, guilt, bruised ego or reservation and you’ll know that too. If you try and bullshit me or give me an “I’m right because I said so” answer…you’d better run for cover. I have often been accused of having a somewhat Jekyll & Hyde personality. Life of the party one minute…distant and quiet the next. Gracious and accepting then an hour later arrogant and insulting…guilty on all counts. I’m the guy who really cares about and enjoys the people in my life yet appears to not really give a shit about anyone or anything even though people are constantly amazed at what I observe, note, comment and write about generally with a great bit of humor thrown in. The recent additions of a whole bunch of meds I can’t pronounce have balanced some of that out along with my readings and studies of late. Add to this disparity I was recently called a “pseudo-intellectual” by someone recently and I found it more amusing than insulting. That’s like saying I’m half an intellectual which based on recent findings I have only half a functional brain may be truer than that person realized and maybe I should take that as a compliment as well. Regardless it got me to thinking…what exactly is an intellectual? So I looked around and found this. According to Wikipedia an Intellectual is: An intellectual is a person who uses thought and reason, intelligence and critical or analytical reasoning, in either a professional or a personal capacity and is 1).a person involved in, and with, abstract, erudite ideas and theories; 2).a person whose profession (e.g. philosophy, literary criticism, sociology, law, political analysis, theoretical science, etc.) solely involves the production and dissemination of ideas; [1] 3).a person of notable cultural and artistic expertise whose knowledge grants him or her intellectual authority in public discourse. I had never given the term much thought before but now that I know this I’m glad to have been called one…or at least half of one. I now feel obligated to pay more attention to what I say…not. In the same excerpt the highly regarded literary critic Edward Said was quoted as defining “Intellectual” as: “(The)…real or “true” intellectual is, therefore, always an outsider, living in self-imposed exile, and on the margins of society.” I agree and disagree with that statement. It partly explains the duality of my personality but not completely. The very lifestyle I have led most of my adult life has made me and all of us who share it an outsider to generally accepted society. It has caused us to seek out different social avenues than mainstream society which is most definitely in the margins in spite of the fact that there are more of “us” than there are of “them” these days. Yet having said all of that we are hardly in self-imposed exile. In order for us to grow and survive we must be fully engaged in life at all levels and plan our journey accordingly. I cannot write about or make an informed opinion of what I don’t observe and experience personally and neither can you or anyone else. As a writer and painter I have to detach myself from what I see so that I can make sense of it and create something of it…that creates distance. As a human I need the tactile validation everything in front of me exists…just like you do. I am my own person and that causes disparity in some circles as well. People don’t know what to do with people who travel to the beat of their own drum. I can be abrasive just by being myself and dressing how I want to dress. In a recent posting on ARTINFO.com the interviewed the long standing fashion and style icon Iris Apfel who at ninety is still an influential force and they asked her this question. Why do you think more people are obsessed with your style now than when you were younger? “I don’t know. I could say maybe they’re getting smarter. I think there’s a trend now — they don’t actually do it — for originality, one of a kind, and of being your own person. I think it’s a combination of things. I think it’s the fact that I’m older now, and people think that when you get older you’re supposed to roll up into a ball and not get dressed and not do anything. I think people are more interested now in mixing and matching. It’s a different attitude.” I know what she means. My entire life I have fought to avoid cookie cutter clothes and look like everyone else…an issue that can get you ostracized in our little world and possibly fired in the vanilla world if you don’t comply with “the rules” of engagement spoken or otherwise. On the other side of that coin…I’m too young to look and act old either. I’m nearly sixty years old. I’m too old and not vain enough to think I should look and dress like a thirty-five year old yet I don’t also want to look like somebody’s nerdy boss or favorite grandfather so finding my own place, my own style somewhere in the middle is important to me. That also means exercising good taste, a sense of self and something of a fashion sense. I feel I’m entitled to that. The opinions of trend setting lemmings and the clueless mean little to me and really don’t give a shit what they think about it. I also have no issue in my making my disregard of their opinions known which hardly makes me popular at many times. I’m one of those odd people who value the arts, literature, music, dance, sports of all kinds, growing your own food and knowing how to prepare a meal that doesn’t come from a box or a delivery person and isn’t cooked in a microwave. I love lively discussions about those things and more at long tables with bottles of wine with people who can think for themselves, have opinions and aren’t afraid to ask questions or even disagree now and then. I detest schools marginalizing all of those things over what it takes to pass some test to get the school more federal money and so our kids can text message five letter messages faster on their smart phone. It’s pathetic the phones are smarter than they are these days. Survival of the fittest has upgraded. It used to mean you didn’t get eaten for dinner while hunting for yours. Now it’s you didn’t get killed driving while texting to go grab some fast food. Does all of these issues make me despicable? I dunno…what’s more I’m not sure I care either way but I am curious though in a perverse way. What does that make you?

CHICKEN AND DUMPLINGS

Tonight we’re having chicken and dumplings. This is hardly something that should be relayed to the news services to be sure. It’s just a fact that after surveying the pantry and refrigerator I had limited resources available to create dinner with and this was what I came up with on the fly. I’m sure it will be tasty. It generally always is. I have been told by more people than I can remember that I’m a better than average cook and many of my recipes are highly sought after when I’m willing to share them. Tonight’s meal will be no different than any other of the thousands I’ve made in my life so far. It will mark no milestone or set some statistical record to be used by politicians, journalists, scientists, theologians, bombastic talk show hosts of all stripes and the quacks who call in with their moronic opinions to validate or invalidate whatever subject is at hand on anything and everything. When the sun rises tomorrow candidates will still be unconsciously proving they’re too stupid to be holding public office at any level regardless of party affiliation, journalists still won’t report the facts in and unbiased manner but spout the opinions of their bosses and themselves, scientists still won’t know much but spent a lot of money finding out they still don’t know anything (I’m still waiting to find out if gnats really do fart and if it could be the next energy supply), theologians will still say that if you read some artifact backwards, upside down or sideways it proves their religion is the true religion and everyone should follow it or get blown up or shot and talk show hosts will still resort to playground tactics to get a rise out of people. The ones who listen to them will still be in line…because they got a card in the mail that said they may have won a new car or a set of steak knives if they get a lobotomy before such and such a date. I’ve been blessed (or cursed depending on how you look at it) with the ability to identify trends before they happen and in most cases have been able to make the most of it. It’s hardly savant like intuition. If it were I would have long predicted my current medical situations and even though I couldn’t have prevented them I might have been able to make them more bearable for my family and myself. I’m great at making lemonade out of lemons but not so great at picking the next Triple Crown winner for this very reason. I can tell you when something is going to be hot, important or work but I can’t tell you how or why…I just know it to be true. I can’t sleep some nights because my mind won’t turn off because everything bounces around in what’s left of my brain at light speed. I have a “pharmacopeia” of pills I take every day to help with that and all they really do is fill my stomach so I don’t need breakfast or dessert and makes me want to take long restless naps during the day yet I can tell you when something is right or “rotten in Denmark”. They do little, if anything, to help me make sense of it all. I’m not really sure there’s anything to be made sense of anyway. So…tonight we’re going to have chicken and dumplings for dinner. I found some chicken in the freezer, some celery and carrots and an onion, salt, pepper and a few spices. They’ve been cooking most of the day and pretty soon I’ll strain the stock, debone the chicken and then add the chicken, a potato, some fresh veggies, cream and a little corn starch into a big pot and let it simmer for a while before I add the dumplings. The kids will disappear for fast food and avoid cleaning the kitchen while my wife and I settle in for dinner and a little TV before I give up and go upstairs to try and sleep. Tomorrow, I predict, will be pretty much the same as it was yesterday.

TRAVELS WITH YODA PART VI

It was a dark and stormy night…well…OK, it was a not so dark but stormy afternoon when I sat down to write this missive which kept getting interrupted by life in general over the past several days. I put on my vintage “Joe Cool” t-shirt I had retrieved from the storage shed last weekend (more on that later) and settled in to channel my inner Snoopy to make sense of everything that has happened since I last posted on here. Much has happened lately yet very little of it is at all noteworthy so we’ll try and skip as much of it as possible and stick to the highlights…such as they were. You see, life has become, somewhat, tediously predictable these days for me and I have a reputation to uphold so this poses an unthinkable dilemma I may not be prepared to face. As resident curmudgeon it is my job, nay! It is my privilege to be the pain in the ass conscious to the world at large and call us all on our shit. It’s difficult to do when I’ve been reduced to napping most of the day lately and making stuff up isn’t nearly as fun and interesting as the stupid shit we actually do and say these days. The lives we hold so seriously dear are so much more comedically retarded than I could ever invent regardless of how many drugs they put me on. Yet my duty is clear and I must report what I have discovered along with, my not so faithful, friend Yoda at my side. So this is the cross I must bear as I have navigated the waters from my last port and message to here and what lies ahead. The past few weeks we’ve been in “Transition Mode” moving from one place to the new one. It will be a nice place once everything is settled. We decided it was best to move in phases to prevent stepping around mountains of boxes. I have been dispatched to a corner of the couch where I am allowed to do little more than look forlorn, drool relentlessly until someone gives me a sympathetic pat on my head and look at porn on my laptop (stop laughing…you know you do too). At the speed were going at we’ll be done unpacking by my birthday next year or just in time to move again…whichever comes first. I was finally allowed to go to the storage shed the other day and see if we couldn’t find more of my clothes and some much needed art supplies. I’ve been relegated to a very minimal wardrobe the past few months and for someone like me…that just doesn’t work. The experience nearly killed me and I paid for it by sleeping almost the entire next day but I don’t look like a transient anymore…sorta. The rest of my time seems to be divided between doctor’s visits and going to Wal-Mart to get my prescriptions filled…a journey I sincerely dread. I fear Wal-Mart more than I fear clowns because Wal-Mart customers are scarier. They’ve been tinkering with my meds lately that has caused me to consider Professional Napper as an occupation when filling out all of the damned forms I’ve been relegated to completing lately in an effort to get my disability issues wrapped up. By the time I get done doing so not only will I get a check (making me a government employee) but I’ll be eligible for retirement, probably have a security clearance and a key to push “THE” button…who knew! They always at some point ask you the same stupid questions about whether I’ve felt like killing myself lately. I can honestly say no but all of these forms and the new meds are certainly causing me to consider world domination… I went back to see my little dermatologist the other day. Yoda was restricted from going. It seems Yoda’s light saber was little more than a glow stick and was the result of a short and embarrassing first (and last) date. I hadn’t noticed on my last trip there but the whole staff in the office is about as diminutive as the doctor is. I felt like I had just stepped into OZ and the Munchkin’s were going to break out a rendition of “The Lollipop Guild” as they led me down the hall for my cancer surgery…and I hadn’t had any drugs yet! Once seated in this very cool chair (I’ve gotta get me one of those) the nurse injected my face with God knows what but the left side of my face went numb down to my arm pit…it was great. Then my pixie-like Dermatologist entered in with a glowing light surrounding her as she flitted around the room leaving fairy dust everywhere (I’m pretty sure that’s not sterile) before covering my face with a towel and whacking half my face off with a machete built for a two year old then slapped a temporary bandage on my face and sent me back out to the lobby to scare the hell out of the other patients. Once satisfied they had gotten it all they brought me back in, injected my face with fun stuff again and began stitching me up. It was quite an interesting experience. My face was getting pulled in every imaginable direction to the point that I’m pretty sure my ear was somewhere near my nose for a moment or two. I couldn’t imagine how such a tiny person like her could do such feats so I cautiously opened one eye. I was horrified to see her next to my chair with a deep sea rod & reel in her hands pulling like she was trying to land a marlin in an effort to close my sutures more tightly. I quickly closed my eyes and started thinking of clowns to feel better. When everything was done and I was all patched up she set up and appointment to take the stitches out (this should be interesting) and to do a full body scan of me because “where there is one cancer there are probably more” as she put it with an evil smile on her face as she buzzed out the door and out of sight. A couple of days later while, once again, feeling bruised, battered and beaten up by a pigmy I went to my eldest daughter’s tenth birthday party. One of her “aunts” gave her three water guns about two feet long and an inch and a quarter in diameter made out of transparent colored plastic. Inside is a plunger attached to a handle the shape of a billyclub with the idea being you put the squirt gun in the pool draw the water in and push it out through the end shaped like a plastic crayon point. Sounds fun enough. Being the loving, protective and always vigilant grandfather I am I took one look at them and asked…”where’s the lube?” as my mind raced back to my dermatologists evil look and the prospect of a full body scan…If I see that damned water gun anywhere in the building I’m going to re-consider taking up jogging…with or without my pants on.

A SIMPLE SENSE OF “SELF”

I wonder if there really is such a thing as “self”? If you look in the dictionary they give you a basic philosophical or psychological explanation of what “self” is and if you look a little harder there’s probably close to a hundred words we all use daily without a thought that have “self” in it as well.
There’s words and phrases like “self-aware”, “self determined”, “self-confident”, “self-absorbed”, “self-depreciating”, “himself”, “herself”, “self-destruct” and such yet none of them give a defining sense of self to anyone…even yourself. Why is that I wonder?
They may define a brief moment in time but generally only about a given action by a person but not the person itself.
The older we get there seems to become a quickening urge to “find oneself” for some unknown reason. We examine and re-examine everything about ourselves and the issues we think (or thought) were (or are) important to us at this stage of life while we cautiously move forward. The “Damn the torpedo’s” bravado we once had was quietly replaced when we weren’t looking by an unfamiliar hesitancy much like trying to walk on eggs while learning to chew gum at the same time in the dark.
At times we find ourselves muttering to no one but the reflection in the mirror some version of “I used to know myself…now I’m not so sure.” as the first seeds of “self-doubt” begin to take root. It’s quite certain that other “self’s” are not far behind like a deeper version of “self-reflection” with possibly a little “self-loathing” to spice up the gumbo with, but isn’t it amazing how distant and at “arms length” those “self’s” seem? We don’t act like we own them, we’re just using them as a research tool to, hopefully, be discarded when their usefulness is no longer needed and replaced by something else like a GPS upgrade. I personally am all for this. I’ve already grown tired of Helga the Dominatrix who screams things like “Turn left at puberty NOW you IDIOT!”.
Billy Crystal (or maybe it was Robin Williams…I dunno, I’m so confused these days) once said GPS systems should grow old with us and I think I now understand the thought but it seems to have not quite happened yet. If it had Helga would sound more like my long departed Grandmother or get a sex change and sound like my Uncle Dean (come to think of it…they both did sound somewhat alike to begin with) and it would be more like “Turn left up here at puberty…Woops, missed that turn son but it’s OK we’ll re-compute and catch back up with it in your early twenties. Believe me, guys don’t change all that much during those years anyways so you won’t miss a thing.”
Even with GPS I’m probably no closer to understanding myself right this minute that I was an hour ago, a day or week ago or even a year ago but I keep looking. Like an old Robert Frost poem I have had glimpses of what lies ahead but haven’t gotten there yet.
The only thing I know for certain is I wish I could still play baseball. With all of the curveballs that have been thrown at me the past few years I must be able to hit just about anything these days and have a ridiculously high batting average…even if I still don’t know myself or the “self” hidden inside me.

The Road Not Taken


TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 20


Robert Frost
I have few regrets but many sorrows…how about you?

Travels with Yoda Part V

PART V

It’s been a wild and wooly couple of weeks around the ‘ol homestead with Yoda and I. Relatives dropping like flies, Yoda being treated like a terrorist, children partying all over the Middle East and a new medical malady to be added to my ever growing collection of body parts to be concerned about, and those are just the highlights of the non-stop fun that has happened and still has to happen for at least a few more weeks… aren’t you glad you checked back in?
My step-daughter gave me a cool gift for my birthday and sent Wendi & I to a Spring Training game as a present and we took Yoda along because he hadn’t seen a live baseball game. The D-Backs (my favorite team…I’m a home town kinda guy) were all sold out so she got us tickets for my second favorite team the Dodgers who happened to be playing the Indians that day. I’m not an American League fan but I sorta like the Indians from all of those “Major League” movies. Fortunately for all involved parties Ubaldo Jimenez wasn’t pitching that day so he couldn’t ding anyone.
So on this warm sunny day we drove off to Camelback Fields for the game. Yoda tried to learn “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” on the way over and the more he tried the more he suspiciously sounded like Grover in drag which gave Wendi and I cause for concern. As feared once we got there and were being checked at the gate out popped that damned light saber and all hell broke loose. In mere seconds Yoda turned a couple of support poles for the awnings into poker chips while yelling in some language none of us have ever heard before causing Yoda to be “detained” in the Security Office (that’s a polite way of saying he was duct taped to a chair while he was there) while we were allowed to watch the game as they figured out what damage Yoda caused and how much in repairs he owed. He was released into our custody at the end of the game and he grumbled the whole way home about not even being able to get a beer while he was there.
The next day we got the news that my step-daughter’s favorite grandmother had passed away causing for rather hurried preparations for her to go to Colorado to help her Dad with all of the things we’ve all learned come with experiences like that. A day or so later I got a call from my Dad to tell me my favorite uncle had passed away…and to get help with a problem on his Facebook account. In typical fashion…no “Happy Birthday” just an “Oh, by the way” and “While I’m thinking about it…”, somehow that seemed appropriate in a frightening way. Yoda spent the week just silently shaking his head at the strange humans he’s inherited and quietly tried to figure us all out. I think he may have killed a bottle of wine in the process but who knows for sure.
Yoda went with me to a few more doctors visits this week. He’s fascinated by medical procedures on this planet. He’s quite convinced we’re the most backwards planet in the Universe and based on recent findings by various scientists…he may be right. Several scientists armed with better telescopes and rocket propelled probes have recently discovered as many as six-hundred Earth-like planets and moons in our own backyard and new calculations say there may be as many as sixty-billion such objects within the Universe. So much for being the only guys in the neighborhood, I’m starting to think God sends all of the “OOOOPs” experiments here so we can kill each other off without bothering the good experiments. Why else would humans on the planet do some of the dumb shit we do to one another and wonder why God hasn’t intervened? Don’t like what someone says or their politics or religion? Kill ‘em. Want to have more than the other guy while killing the planet…so what, as long as I get my fleet of $80,000.00 luxury vehicles and the houses to go with them. It has to make sense to someone doesn’t it?
In any event Yoda went with me while they drew more blood …looking for what I have no clue anymore. They did an ultrasound on my heart because my health insurance wouldn’t approve my annual nuclear stress tests (thanks again Obama) and told me, contrary to my children’s opinion, I still have a heart in working condition. Then we got to the last doctor’s visit. Yoda was beside himself with glee. He finally met someone who is about his size. In walked my new addition to people with a lot of letters after their name…my new dermatologist. She’s somewhere between the height of my eight and nine year old granddaughters and just about as big around (they’re toothpicks) which gave me a less than fuzzy feeling about her abilities. As it turns out she’s great. She kicked my ass in ten seconds flat. Froze parts of my head (which was interesting in a kinky sort of way) and then got to the serious stuff. It appears I have a spot under my left eye that is most definitely Cancer and is spreading towards my eye (always use sunscreen kiddies) so she took a jackhammer disguised as a syringe and poked me everywhere under my eye before removing half my face for a biopsy (the results to be determined in the next few weeks). Yoda was only too willing to help but wasn’t allowed to due to a small thing called a license (but he did manage to get the cute young doctors cell number and they’re having dinner at Binkley’s Saturday night). After that it was off into the afternoon sunlight and lunch.
Yoda behaved like a first grader and teased me with “You got your butt kicked, You got your butt kicked…” while waving the Doc’s phone number around. As revenge I made him order from the kiddie menu at the Chinese place we stopped for lunch.
Next stop on our magical mystery tour…moving. I hate moving. This may be the death of me and I’m not allowed to help. It’s not going to be fun I promise you.
While we’re at it…based on my recent discoveries…don’t bother looking to God for help or answers. His voicemail for this planet is full and he’s only taking calls from worthy planets and we’re definitely not one of them.