Trick of the Lens

The piece I wrote last year about kids terrorizing me hasn’t changed, nothing new to report on that front.  So let’s talk about the walk I took yesterday.  Actually I can show you the area I was walking in since I take my phone with me on these travels, just in case I need a lift back.

Usually I just throw on a pair headphones if I’m by myself.  It doesn’t mean I’m listening to anything, sometimes I just want to be trapped in my head but outside rather than on the couch.  But most of the time I’m listening to some podcast from NPR or WEEI (it’s sports radio!)  The glasses are on and my hat is pulled down to shield my face from view.  One of those instances where ghostly white, pale reflections of my skin just don’t need to be recognized.

I’m coming down this small hill and look up at the sunset.  The leaves turn from red to brown, and fall to the ground. To be trodden down.  Lyrics from a song called “Beautiful” that talks about the absolute beauty in being different.  If they had been talking about snowflakes I guess they would have used the word “unique”?  The best line in that song, at least for me is, Are you wild enough to be Beautiful?  Captures everything you want to say to someone you love, friends count in this!

Living all but 3 years of my life in the Northeastern part of the United States, I’ve taken little notice on an emotional level how scenes like this can effect you.  I have always wondered why the leaves can’t be that color all year long?  Why at the end of their time they go out with such an amazing show?  Those years of teaching in Boca Raton, Florida I don’t remember a leaf falling.  But they had people in the neighborhood who would have written up the trees for littering.  The joys of retired executives with nothing better to do.

Not getting the road in the picture cost me the sun that was just settling in the upper right portion of the shot.  Trade-off I had to make.

This other shot just is for fun.  I promise I did nothing with any software to adjust it.  When my phone wirelessly synced with “The Cloud” it just showed up in the folder that way.  There was no breeze blowing, no car going by to disturb the quiet.

When I stare at it for any length of time I see several images.  An Eagle, oddly enough I see Dr, Teeth from The Muppets, but best of all I hear a little kid just running around in circles creating their own little vortex of joy.

I originally was going to title this blog entry “Beauty of the Lens”, but that doesn’t work for Halloween clickbait.  Plenty of times I’m writing about the negative side of my emotions.  Anger and loss being two constant companions.  But while I was on that walk, for some reason I felt compelled to take those pictures.  That the little voice I hear, that little girl whispering about the deer in the yard eating from a tree or how pretty the colors of a rainbow are and can we go chase it; yesterday I felt the joy of it, not any other emotion.

Yesterday I felt not alone on my walk, but some hand was helping me see differently.  I’m glad I went for that walk…

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trick or Trick.”

Today’s Lesson, Pay Attention Students!

My daughter’s name is Abigail while that has always been something I keep out of my writing, today I have a reason to share it.  But we’ll get to to my explanation, let’s talk about learning new things.

Yesterday morning I was trying to go through some work for the office.  Simple enough task and then the phone rings.  Everyone is accustomed to doctor’s offices leaving some automated message reminding you to show up for your appointment.  Only this time when I was ready to hit the #1 for “yes, I get it!” and human voice starting talking to me.  That appointment I had for the end of the week became “We have an opening this afternoon at 2:30.  And when you come, please think about bringing a bag with whatever you might need for the next few days.”

Oh, shit!

So, lots of paperwork later I’m resting comfortably in my room having spent last night reading up on tomorrow’s second attempt as evicting the former roommate from my head.  There were a few boxes left in a corner of the closet that we seemed to have missed, or maybe in my absence a new squatter has found a home?

After years of learning about economics and human behavior, I keep finding myself becoming a novice investigator into the workings of cancer.  When House, M.D. ran on television the former Mrs. Lary would joke about how I either was writing the episodes or knew someone who was inspired by my lacking attitude about human interaction.  It wasn’t in a cruel manner, just a joke about how she thought there were only one person around who was emotionally stunted but used his brain to compensate for other feelings he couldn’t express.

I’m a huge nerd!  I used to watch Star Trek and most of the iterations of spin-offs.  They start by letting people know it’s a show about exploring the farthest reaches of space to gain knowledge.  But the entire time we are reminded that at the same time they are trying to explore the inner workings of relationships, the limitations of humans to grow, basically they are telling us that we haven’t yet begun to understand the possibilities of what is possible.  My family was shocked when I picked up and left Boston after college to teach in Florida.  It was so out of character that they didn’t know how to respond.  I think they worried about the kids more than anything, but after sitting in on a class one day they got it.

There were times when I would visit with my extended family and by the end of a day, the ones who understood the value of learning were sitting in various corners reading.  Sometimes 10 people in complete silence with books propped up against their faces.  It seemed weird when I was 12, but these days I get understand.

In my family it isn’t about learning one thing, it’s about learning everything.  My dad and I can argue about Black Holes.  My mother, she wants to hear about competitive advantages people use in cooperative games.  My brother still likes his music and with an almost 7 year old, biographies of musicians are his thing.  The ex works for a large university and is surrounded by books.  Hell we met while I was managing a bookstore!

So why talk about my daughter’s name?  It came from Abigail Smith Adams, wife of the second President of the U.S. and she’s my aunt.  History is big for me.  Tying those two together was fun.  For quite some time people were afraid I was going to insist on Quincy since I was joking around about that name.  Again, a family thing and if you have ever visited Massachusetts you understand the significance.  It you haven’t, too many things in the greater Boston Area are named for that family, my family.  It was an albatross when I was younger, people knowing that about me.  Expectations of others sometimes blinding them to the fact I was a different person.  These days, I’ll wear the shirt with my family tree on it proudly.

Family is important to me.  Even the ones I can’t stand to be in a room with under any circumstances.  We all have that aunt who we hope finds other plans for the holidays.  Then you realize that even her kids are coming to your place, so you suck it up!

With everything happening to me I wanted Abby to be part of more than just my memories.  Having her name spoken or at least out in the world means that she gets to carry on in ways that I can’t provide for her.  The hardest thing is both hearing her name and not ever hearing her name.  It was a huge problem between me and the former Mrs. Lary, not talking about her in any manner.  It absolutely didn’t work for me, and talking about it absolutely didn’t work for her.  You get past something by dealing with it, not ignoring the 1,000,000 pound gorilla in the room sitting on your chest!

Buried under the tree for Abby in my yard back in Maryland is a small box of letters.  Just things I had needed to get out there.  Included is a card with the following statement –

If I had to chose between breathing and loving you, I would tell you I love you with my last breath.

I had seen the phrase and wrote it down because it was a message I wanted her mother to have, but that changed before I could deliver it.  But it also is something I want my daughter to know.  And while her father is worried about the outcome of tomorrow’s surgery, it’s an important message.

So while I’m still learning about myself, today anyone reading this got to learn a little about her.

Class Dismissed…

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Lazy Learners.”

Racing for October

October can’t get it fast enough.  I realize it is only a few days away, in cosmic terms less than a blink of the eye.  But at the moment it is a lifeboat floating just on the horizon that I’m paddling to with all of the strength and emotional fortitude I can find.  When I search the recesses of my mind, nothing has gone even remotely wrong during that month at any point in my life.  I actually can find multiple things that are worth celebrating.

Years ago October brought into my life the very essence of the person I become when I was a teenager.  Her time wasn’t long enough, but her mother has helped me over the past three decades whenever I have needed a lift.  Kathy and her family have opened their world to me and made it a point to continually remind me that they aren’t going anywhere.  For me that is important, knowing that even when I’m at my worst [and there are times when I can be quite obnoxious].  They may need to leave the room for a few minutes but they also always come back.  That all started in an October back in 1987!

The end of the month isn’t a bad place to be either.  Halloween is fun, but another person who tried to make it her goal in life to find a cure for the cancer eating away was born that day.

In between?  I can’t recall too many things that I carry forward that would cause even a moments pain.  All good memories.

The most important of them will always start, just like the month, with finding out I was going to be a father.  I’ve given lots of space to dealing with her death, but I try hard to find solace in those moments where she brought me the most joy.  I wish they weren’t so compact, like her life, but they bring me such joy that I still want to celebrate them in any way possible.

The day hadn’t even begun when the doctor’s told us about our impending addition.  4 in the morning?  But the sun rose differently that day, everything that was impossible felt possible as I drove back to the house.  The sunroof open, music going so loudly with my voice banging out a stupid tune, I wanted that feeling to never end.  In many ways I needed that feeling to never end.

I tried to concentrate at work, but I kept going from site to site looking at various toys, furniture, clothes for the as yet undetermined child.  I kept finding these really cute dresses, somehow my mind and maybe my heart really wanted a little girl.  Another person who was going to be able to round out the harshness that I sometimes brought along with me.  The fact I still keep my copy of “Vader’s Little Princess” on my tablet as a reminder of a story I could have read daily?  I wish people could have known me during that time.  I thought that everything was possible, nothing couldn’t be conquered; life even with it’s imperfect moments was perfect at every moment.

Last year I was dealing with so many other things that I later felt guilty when I couldn’t find the time or energy to do the right thing.  Not just the two minutes it took to post a picture and write some Japanese phrase on Facebook.  I was so lost in her mother having left that I couldn’t see the positive thing I should have been holding onto.  The amazing amount of guilt I carry sometimes makes me forget that for a few moments it’s okay to feel something other than pain.

So when I get up on Thursday morning and look out the window, she’ll be the only thing I think about.  She needs to be the only thing I think about.  I owe her that tiny bit of myself.  I actually owe her more than that.  She re-enforced something that I forgot about myself, that someone could make me mindlessly blissful without doing a thing.  Her mother had the same effect on me.

October can’t get here fast enough.  And when it does my heart is going to open for a little while and recall all that is possible.  I can’t say it often enough or even loudly enough, I love her to pieces.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Yin to My Yang.”

No Good Title Today!

This phrase from “The Paper Chase” keeps coming to mind – the first years are hard years, much more than you know.  And today represents the beginning of a new year, 365 days have passed and I still find somethings hard to know.  I wanted to tell a good story about firsts, things that are enjoyable and hopefully that is what people will see.

We celebrate firsts for their beauty and sometimes for their pain.  When you’re in a relationship, you find dates that hold some meaning and happily buy flowers because it was the fist time you went to some concert or dinner together.  Marking that first kiss while standing in the rain, getting soaked and not caring an ounce.  And later, when things fall apart, you find yourself in a Hallmark store buying her a Birthday card you’re never going to send because you can’t help yourself.  And you know that sending it might bring her pain that you certainly don’t want.

Yesterday marked a year of absence, today her birthday and I hope that she finds a million reasons to smile today.  But that card is going to sit in my drawer, “This is more than your Birthday, it’s a Thank You for being born.”  Which brings me to that whole other collection of firsts.

Therapists, friends from my group, told me that preparing for that collection of firsts was going to be hard.  They were right.  I still feel bad that on the anniversary of my daughter’s passing I sat in a room and cried.  I couldn’t help it.  I felt pain and anger.  Some towards my ex who should have been there to help, but she is on her own path to wherever.  My aunt told me I was the father she needed, but was I the one she deserved?  February 11th, 2014 hurts to say.

There have been some setbacks with the medical stuff that have brought their own firsts.  The trade-off has been the time I gained with Susie, getting to know her, spending time letting her get to know me.  It was the first time I have admitted that I’m scared to the core about what the future holds.  When Joe Biden was on television talking about his son and how he didn’t think it was very “Presidential” that he was sobbing on national television?  That was the most human thing any person can do, admit their pain, their difficulty in dealing with it.  A “man” is supposed to be a rock, but I think it’s more important that a man know when he needs help.  I absolutely respect that man for saying all of the things I think about my daughter.

When I started writing it was because the conversations I needed to have weren’t happening.  The room was empty, the person gone, and I didn’t know how to deal with that.  At first, it drove me mad.  Grief and fear are powerful things, love might be the only thing that truly does conquer all.  Amusing it is the fear of losing that love that causes such grief.  When the first person replied to something I wrote, I was confused.  Not because I thought my life unique, but because I didn’t know what to say to them in response.  Thanks, Sorry, Why are you reading this?

I looked at the likes and it made me go to that dark place.  It meant too many people understood my path.  My experience was all of our experience.  For me, that is everything I try to help others avoid.  I’ve been lucky to have loved, been loved, are loved?

My mother got angry last night because she is still upset with how things are turning out.  She’s allowed that space.  I was surprised with how upset she was when she mentioned the ex’s birthday.  It wasn’t anger, but still that heartbreaking loss she feels.  For her a first that I wished could be wiped away.

Some would tell me that I shouldn’t care about today.  But let me put this out there for the world to consider – Something made me buy the card, does that make me a weak person or a strong one?  I hope she has a great day, people around her to celebrate with, feels loved by those people.  Maybe this is another first for me, learning that I’m more human than I have admitted.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Storybook Day.”

A Very Long Night

We’d been going around in a circle about how to handle the pain in her leg.  Several days of wondering what needed to be done, it wasn’t stopping our lives but it was concerning.  I don’t remember what her mother said to her but it got her to go to the doctor.  The ex’s mother was a nurse and knew the signs of what she thought to be a blood clot.  With the other issues surrounding her health, specifically the Lyme she picked up in college, this was just something neither of us needed.  But it was another one of those phone calls saying “I’m at the doctor’s office, could you get over here?”  Grab the car keys and out the door.

I didn’t know much about blood clots, and the one in her leg was a concern since it was actually visible to the naked eye.  More bruise than anything else, but after a minute the doctor said “Get her to the hospital now.  I’ll call ahead and let them know your on the way.”  Few things can send a wave of panic like a statement saying you need better medical attention, go now!

The all to my parent’s was simple, we’re going to the hospital.  I’ll let you know what going on when we figure it out.  Hours of moving between tests and lab rooms.  Sitting in the Emergency Room sitting in a chair that had long since put my legs to sleep, my back into spasms; my phone going off every hour with my mother asking if they should come or at least what could they do.  It was nice, but when you don’t know the answers it can bring as much stress as the situation we found ourselves in.

It was about 4 in the morning, basically 9 hours since we had checked in when the doctor ducks her head in the room and announces “The pregnancy test results came back, congratulations!”  The combination of panic and elation hit both of us like a brick wall.  This is great news, but what about the clot?  We sat there staring at each other for a few minutes and than I jumped up on the bed and looked her right in the face “We’ve got this!  You’re going to be a great mother!”

The fear was still there, the instructions and medications that were going to be involved would scare anyone.  Twice daily shots in the stomach to deal with the clots and we were only a few weeks into this pregnancy.  It felt like waves crashing on the shore, great hopes pulled back by lingering fears of the future.

Eventually we left and headed back to get her car from the doctor.  It’s 7 in the morning on October 1st, the sun was just coming over the horizon as we pulled into the parking lot.  I just sat there holding her in my arms since we both were going to get cleaned up and head to our offices.  My absolutely tired body needing the medication I left at home, but adrenaline had taken over and my brain was only thinking about how lucky we both were.  My emotions just let lose as I pulled into my garage, resting my head on the steering wheel just letting it all out.  That combination of emotions had taken a toll for the last few hours.

A few days later I went to a picnic thrown by some friends.  I asked a friend to watch the ex because I didn’t want her pushing herself too hard while she got accustomed to the new daily routine.  Blood thinners are one thing, add in the little girl growing inside; even walking to grab a few minutes playing ping-pong with people in the yard had me watching her like a hawk.  Later people told me they knew something was up, I was walking on clouds and nothing bothered me that day.  Nothing anyone said meant anything because I was planning for something I had no idea how to plan for!

That night I felt the worst feelings.  Every time she was sick it was hard, even the flu sometimes had lingering effects.  I had considered so many possibilities that evening that short of them needing to operate on her I wouldn’t have left her side.  Even then I would have sat outside the O.R.  As the sun rose over my house as I pulled in I felt hope, I felt love, I felt every possibility in the world had presented itself.

We all know it ended later.  The life of my daughter and her mother leaving.  But as yet another anniversary of that night approaches, I know my mind is going to continue to cling to the memory of hearing those words “You’re going to be a father” for the first time.  Every thing I have accomplished in my life, that one simple thing means the most to me.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mountaintops and Valleys.”

Round “X” to You, Depression!

Whenever an email comes across my laptop it is immediately placed into a wide variety of folders.  Some get looked at right away and some will sit there until I get the urge to take a look.  Yesterday I was doing half-day duty for work.  Everyone agreeing that rest was more important than me talking the right people into doing something advantageous for my employer.  When certain people’s email hits my computer, they get moved right to the front of the line.  My parents, the ex used to get her stuff answered within a minute, a few friends who do their best to stay in touch even if only two or three times a year.  At 10:43 yesterday an email hit my box that rocked me to the point I needed to call someone to talk about it.

A simple invitation to a retirement party.  You’d think that given my work environment, someone would be leaving at least once a year.  But in this case it was a very dear friend who after spending 20 years twisting the minds of young people with her mathematical skills was finishing her career.  She’ll turn 45 during the week between Christmas and New Year’s!  And it made my mind go straight for the “Is she okay” button.

I knew the answer to this.  For the last several years she has been fighting her brains out with cancer.  More specifically, she has been fighting brain cancer.  And she has fought it with grace and humor that I wish I could muster at times.  Jennifer also happens to be the first girl I ever had a crush on.  She’s a little over a year older than me, two years ahead in school and treated me with such respect while we were growing up that her kindness still affects me today.

There I was a stupid 4th grade kid who the school didn’t know what to do with, so at times I spent my days with the 5th and 6th graders depending on the lesson plan.  I also would get pulled out every Wednesday for “Gifted Classes” where a special teacher would walk me through subject matter a bit further along than most of my classmates.  But when I was sitting across the aisle from Jennifer during music classes [odd thing to be advancing a kid in, but I came new to that school that year with knowledge from my previous school no one felt I needed to repeat!], she talked to me like I was any other person.

For years it was like that, until the day I graduated high school she always treated me as an equal.  I feel in love with her and didn’t know that friendship would be meaningful 30 years later.  That summer after Patre died and my parents sent me to Europe to get away from everyone, I run into her in of all places Innsbruck, Austria.  I’m walking out of the hotel to get something at the store before heading off to stare at a ski jump and there she is getting off a tour bus.  This wasn’t one of those slow motion, weird moments from the movies but I ran up to her, picked her up, and swung her around because I was so happy to she her.  Right time, odd place?

I worry about her kids who are barely into their teenage years.  A couple of boys who make her light up just saying their names.  I’ve known her family for a very long time, her brother happens to be the same age as me and is also a good friend.  Her father thinks I’m nuts, but he still remembers the kid who would jump on the bumper of the car to shake the baby because I thought it was funny to hear her giggle.  A very strong family that has a long path ahead of them while they figure out how to handle things moving forward.

There are very few people who I get this emotional about.  She is one of those people who I can honestly say I would trade what time I have to give her more time.  An irrational set of thoughts?  It’s not that I’m diminishing my value, but acknowledging that she has a few more people who could benefit from her being around.

From the moment I finished reading the email I knew that this would be today’s topic.  It gripped my mind and heart, pulled at that fragile balance between things being okay and the depression knowing it was going to win that round.  I never thought of her in a romantic way, but I always hoped that the next time I saw her that same overwhelming urge to run up and hug her took over.  That pure joy of seeing someone who had that kind of impact on you,  the flood of memories where I can’t recall a single negative; I hope everyone has a person in their life that brings them that kind of joy.

You better believe I’m going to do everything I can to be at that party.  If I have to drug an IV behind me, well that’s what is going to happen.  I want to be able to sit there with her family, friends, coworkers and tell them that story about Austria [although her brother and husband both know it already!]  No matter what her future brings, in my mind she will always be that same girl getting off the bus.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “From the Top.”

Secrets of a Firefly

I just kept staring, watching that finger be pointed at me and the words coming from her mouth cut deeply.  Carrying them home like a weight dragging behind me I later learned that it was a noose that slowly strangled me until I was unable to think about anything else.  Within a week I was sitting in the doctor’s office trying to keep my head focused on something personally significant, but all I could address was how I was going to make it through the weekend without racing my car in the opposite direction of traffic.

Her secrets had become my secrets and eventually they destroyed everything they had touched.  So many times we could have straightened thing out if only I had done what I kept threatening to do, open my mouth.  Tell someone what was happening in a way they could understand without the other things entering the picture.  My health wasn’t the issue, the location of every dime I made wasn’t either; to me the only thing that mattered was getting her the best help available.  I even began to consider that I couldn’t even offer that anymore.

Breaking the silence, it was what happened that morning.  I didn’t have a choice anymore, the gravity of everything was pulling me so far under I could function.  So I wrote an email to her father, a man who until recently I believed to be an honestly good man.  It was a Sunday morning and I had no idea if he would see it, or rather when he would see it.  I knew he checked his email at points throughout the weekends.

“I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I’m worried about how she is doing…”  The exact words you don’t need to know, they still sit in my email program since I tend to keep everything I’ve ever written or received in their own little personalized folders.  12 hours later came that text message telling me to never contact her again, under any circumstances!  So, was that the right thing to do?  Open my mouth and lose everything I held dear for over 10 years, maybe?

Those same secrets were eating at her only she wasn’t willing to tell her family differently.  Maybe she wasn’t able to tell them?  Fear is also a fun emotional restraint.  Maybe if she had been willing to lose something, things might have turned out differently.  I know there are times when I need to hold back some information from my family.  Especially about this cancer thing, it’s hard to know there is little anyone can do but follow the doctor’s suggestions.  My aunt is the same way, here are the basics of some medical thing she was having done but she could handle it.  I admire the attitude, but wished at times she just said “come for the weekend and mow the lawn!”

I know that my actions have had lasting repercussions.  It was something I must have known as I was typing out that letter, waiting for what I also knew was going to be a negative reply from her end.  Forced to chose, their help meant I had to go.  I’ve hated myself for the cost to me, but have always known that it meant she was going to get the help she desperately needed.  Those secrets weren’t going to be such a weight for her because I was no longer in the picture.  That box closed quickly and with ruthless efficiency.

The prompt was about a time when you didn’t open your mouth, that’s rarely my issue.  As evidenced by this blog, my mind doesn’t have a filter about my mistakes.  I accept them and welcome the knowledge that others understand why I made some choices.  You can agree, or disagree, or even sit there wondering why any of this matters months later.  My foundation was set long ago by a mistake I made as a kid, one I didn’t talk about for years that became poisonous to my emotions, welcoming fear about future loss even before I had a chance to catch my firefly.

I’d give this advice to people, talk about the issue before it becomes so threatening that it destroys the foundation of everything and the chasm looks like an ocean.  Hurt feelings for a few hours, or even days, is so much better than feeling hurt for a much longer time.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Break the Silence.”

Life Left Unrealized

A couple of months ago I did what I thought was going to be the hardest thing in my life.  I spent some time packing up things.  Not just any thing, but those items that belonged to my daughter.  Yesterday I mentioned it being one of those things that takes you outside of every life lesson, theory on the natural order of things, and forces you to recognized that everything can shift in a moment.  Some moments are drawn out.  While others happen when you aren’t even in the room.  But the lingering effects are hard to adjust to.

It’s a little harder when you are trying to figure out without the helping hand of another what should be done with a few things.  Did she have an opinion about where something should go?  Was it even something that should be donated in the first place?  You can have the mindset that the other person is gone as well, but that only works for a little while.  Reality is a fun thing when you learn to accept it.  I had to that day, more than at any other time.

These things had to be done before I left the house.  I wasn’t selling the place, but I escaped to another state to get what I needed for myself.  My work in progress status fluctuating at random times.  So these boxes sat in the hallway waiting for my return.  That was until my mother thought she would get involved.  She needed to take over for a little bit, have some control over her own emotions.  I can’t fault her for that, but it is still something I need to eventually face.

When I cleaned out my grandparent’s place, I learned a bunch of things I didn’t know about them.  Mostly because our relationship was so poor, I never cared enough to be around as an adult.  So when you start looking through passports or piles of pictures, something shifts.  I still didn’t care enough to ask anyone, but it did make me wonder what kind of relationship we could have had under different terms.

Donating the items you picked out, things you remember going to the store to purchase or add to some registry/Amazon list; those are trips down good memories.  You try to cling to them and push out that last one.  The one that makes it so hard to do any of this.  Books left unread, clothing still sitting on a hanger with the tags on because you found something on sale that was just right, but not the right size!  Adults talk about a life left unimagined, but for kids we’re talking about a life left unrealized.  Questions within other questions, some nagging at you while others fade just as quickly.

I’ve tried to make arrangements for things to be picked up, but from a distance trying to coordinate time is humorous.  “We can give you a window of when someone could be there.”  “That’s hard when I’m 400 miles away!”

So these boxes will be sitting there for the time I eventually get back to a different reality.  Or maybe it is my reality and I have just sidestepped everything.  An alternate reality?  Not really, but maybe a paradox of what life should be if I allowed it to unfold differently.

I still can’t get over how perfect a day February 11, 2014 was until it wasn’t.  The sun was shining, it was warm and I thought I had it all.  Guess not!  Actually I did have it all, I just had a limit on the time I was going to be allowed to keep it.

She Asked a Great Question…

A friend of mine is trying to get back into the darting world.  He’s signed up for one of those online services that allow people to build a profile and post some pictures.  The fun part is watching him get nervous wondering if someone is going to “like” him or if they are just going to pass him by.  But along the way he found a profile of a woman who he likes, but is slightly intimidated by.  Her profile fits him nicely, or at least what he thinks he wants.  But then she asks her potential suitors to answer the following question :

You meet a girl for the first time and you’re very into her. How do you show that when you touch her? Are you 1) tender, 2) gentle, 3) firm, 4) rough, 5) savage, or 6) brutal. You can only pick one. Don’t choose what you think I want you to, because you’ll likely be wrong. How about on the fifth time?

I love this question!  My first reaction was to think about how you would physically touch someone during that first meeting.  My answer was firm, because the last two just make me shiver with the notion someone would have thought about my daughter.  I want someone to know they are being touched, that it wasn’t just some random mistake from an over-crowded room or my clumsy nature.  I dated a girl in college and her mother was a big time hugger.  Right up on top of you as you walked through the door.  At the time I was still frat boy built and weighed 210 at over 6 feet tall.  Bigger guy!  She told my date later that “When Lary hugs you, you know it!”  She didn’t mean I was rough, just I swallowed her whole in my embrace.

But then it hit me, I might be looking at this question the wrong way.  What if she wanted to know how you were going to touch her on an emotional level?  You could say something sweet and sensitive about her or you could say something completely inappropriate and never get that chance to get to the “Fifth time”.

This question is so thought provoking you can see that even I want to answer her question just hoping that I might get some type of reply.  Something that lets me know what her intent was.  My friend was confused as to what he should write.  I truly think he likes this woman, but is afraid.  People tend to be that way once they get burned.  Might be the exact reason why she is trying to weed out guys who are just looking for something she isn’t going to give them.  She also might be coming from that position of having kissed her number of frogs and wants something different.

Communication can come in so many ways.  This silly question on a dating site has turned into several conversations between me and my friend.  I in turn am writing this because I’m fascinated with the question itself, the two paths someone might take in replying to it.  Somewhere there is a guy who hopefully is finding it within himself to answer this young lady’s posting and they might find happiness together.

Words are funny things.  So many meanings and trying to understand them can be a daunting task.  43 years on this earth and I am still learning what needs to be done to express myself in a clear manner.  One that doesn’t confuse a situation, some method for letting the world around me comprehend the craziness that jumbles around my brain.  There are days when I hopefully succeed, but I know there are days when I just don’t.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Style Icon.”

I Looked Like That?!!

Let’s say this isn’t the most flattering picture I have ever taken, but than I don’t have many pictures sitting on my computer of myself.

This would have been the summer of 1987, not long before something changed that affected too many aspects of my life.  One that continues to hang over me to this very moment.  I was at basketball camp, the same camp I attended every summer hoping that someone would help me learn to elevate my game to a level I wasn’t embarrassed to try dunking the ball.  I was at the typical tipping point for being able to physically achieve that goal, but my mind just had some hangups about the process.

In the picture I’m 6’4″ tall and about 185 pounds.  Big for a kid of 15 years.  The t-shirt did come with sleeves, but I removed them so I could both fit in it and be able to move around with the ball.  My little brother was the only other person from my school who went here, so I was learning from guys who I eventually would be playing against.  The coaches once told me if I felt like moving, they would gladly coach a guy like me.  I wanted to learn.  I never expected to go to college for it, and I never did, but I really just wanted to learn.  I was desperate to learn more about the game.

Baseball came easy, basketball not as much.  I never really learned how to control my body.  Damn those teenage years!

I know from my memory that I was walking forward to accept an award for being the most improved player from that week.  Like I said, hobbyist at best.  Baseball really ended the week before, so I wasn’t out shooting at the hoops before that week.

But this is where we get better information about everything I am.  This picture was taken on a friday, by the same time the next day i was in the hospital being told about my first experience with cancer.  I had gone to dunk the ball and lost my footing as I came back down, broke my knee cap.  Shattered it like a pie plate falling off the counter.  It’s currently made of Dupont Ceramic.  A long summer was ahead of me.

After all the chemicals, promises and life-saving procedures I was better.  I was lucky.  When I went back to school that fall was when I met someone who helped me in ways that I still can’t fully thank them for.  She pushed me in directions I didn’t want, made me try when I didn’t think I could.  Her sitting there while I walked out on the basketball court after months of nothing was helpful.  Patre made me try, even though we both admitted later we knew I wasn’t ready.  That I couldn’t keep up with others, and that most people were letting me get by them just to avoid hurting me.

Right now I’m living with her parents as I go through yet another round of hell.  We share that whole daughter loss thing that makes us family.  They help in a way no one us has been able to, or maybe willing to; it really does depend on who I’m talking about.  Patre’s been gone a long time, her influence hasn’t stopped in the ensuing 27 years.  She saved me from myself back then and her family is fighting with everything they have to try to save me now.  That gift is more important to me than any I have ever received!

That picture was a fun time, it led to some things that helped and some that didn’t.  Without having fallen that day, I may have not known how sick I was until it was beyond anyone’s ability to fix, to help me.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Snapshot Stories.”