Tuesday's Election

After watching parts of the former president's rally at Madison Square Garden, I was reminded of the Prayer of St. Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Not a stretch, by the way, as I have it hanging in my home office, three feet away from me as I write this very sentence.

If you consider yourself a supporter of the former president, please do try and measure his words and actions against what we know to be the very best of what defines us, which I believe is well described in the Prayer of St. Francis.  Are we at our best when we call others "scum" or "vermin"?  Are we our best selves when we mock others for being different?  Are we at our best when we routinely use lies purely for self-gain?  Are we at our best when we revile the stranger and threaten the immigrant?

Thus says the Lord of hosts: Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another.  (Zechariah 7:9-10)

Do we really want to give tremendous power and authority to someone who preaches hate towards others (that disagree with him) and promises "retribution" for what are his mostly personal grievances?  Is this REALLY who we are as a country?  Is this REALLY the country we want our children...and grandchildren...to inherit?

There is no middle ground here.  There is no rationalization for what he has said and promised.  In fact, give him credit for being abundantly clear.

By all means, if you can't support Vice President Harris in next Tuesday's election, well then don't vote for her.  I understand.  However, there are options other than Harris or the former president.  If you are going to vote for the former president, well then, I grieve for your lack of humanity, empathy, kindness and just plain common sense.  

My God have mercy on the United States.

Storyworth: Have you ever had a supernatural experience or an experience you can’t explain?

Prelude:  I've been busy writing responses for this Storyworth gift I was given, pretty much not posting here very often.  However, the most recent question was pretty interesting, so I'm going to be a lazy blogger and recycle it into a posting.  

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Question:  Have you ever had a supernatural experience or an experience you can’t explain?

Answer:  The simple answer to this question is NO.

Now, leaving it at that last sentence would make for a pretty boring story (not worth my time…get it?  Story…time…), and in fact I can elaborate a bit on the underlying ideas behind my answer.

I am, pretty much by my very nature, skeptical of claims related to the supernatural.  I think part of this comes from the fact that I seem hardwired towards logic, reasoning, science, and the like.  The idea of “supernatural” seems to imply that there are phenomena that can’t be explained by things like logic, reasoning, science, etc.  In fact, here’s a definition…

…which I list because it makes the point that I do believe that scientific understanding can explain things.  The fact that an explanation isn’t currently available doesn’t invalidate science…or validate the concept of the supernatural…it simply means that we don’t know enough to explain the situation.

To that last sentence, well there is something of a backdoor to this whole concept of the supernatural when it comes to how I process things.  Specifically, it is an inherently logical concept to acknowledge that there is a great deal that we (the collective we, that is) do not understand.  Therefore, maybe there is a kind of logic behind the idea of the supernatural.  My greater point though is that I do not acknowledge that there are mysterious, god-like, and maybe malevolent “hands” behind things. 

Maybe then, rolling all of this up into a kind of package, I can say that I have not experienced the supernatural and I don’t ascribe it as being the source of things I can’t explain.  Or, just because I can’t explain it doesn’t mean that I think it’s supernatural.

Does all of the above mean that I am deeply skeptical of those who claim some kind of connection to the supernatural?  That’s a two-part answer:

First, if someone is using a claimed connection (to the supernatural) to make money, then I do view them as being likely frauds and hucksters.  It’s simply too easy for a talented individual to create the appearance of the supernatural to an audience that truly wants to believe in such things right from the beginning.  History and current events show plenty of times when someone who is charismatic can get others to believe in something extraordinary; immigrants eating cats and dogs is a good (and horrible) example.  Heck, Germany, almost all of an entire nation, was sold on the outlandish fiction that somehow the Jews were responsible for every terrible thing that happened to them going back decades, if not more.  Lastly, the smart and the charismatic are talented at understanding what people want to hear (as in wanting to hear from a deceased relative), so it’s not much of a stretch that they can use that power to liberate cash from the masses.

Second, if someone truly believes that they have had these experiences and makes the choice to not monetize* that sort of thing, well, I am much more sympathetic.  I truly believe that this can be part of someone’s reality…being connected to what they view as supernatural…and it would be short-sighted and almost hypocritical for me to somehow judge that individual.  Again, I do acknowledge there are things that I (and the collective we) don’t understand, so arguing that it’s not “supernatural” but it is “as of yet unknown explanation” sounds a lot like semantics (for the very sake of semantics) to me.

 

I have been told that the reason why I have not had these experiences is that I’m not open to them.  I’m not sure what to make of that explanation.  If I were to see a daytime apparition of my late brother Chris, for example, well, then I would likely be less skeptical.  The logic of it all almost seems circular to me: You have to be open to these things to see them, but doesn’t that mean there is at least some chance that your mind will manufacture something just to fulfill the expectation? 

Finally, I will note that I can have very intense dreams from time to time.  Some of these involve people who are in and no longer in my life, such as my brother Chris.  Is this an example of the supernatural?  For example, one night this week I had a dream where Chris was standing on a street curb (other details taken out for the blog posting).  Can I logically explain this dream (in totality, the other parts of it were more like a nightmare…)?  No.  So why did it happen?  I don’t know.  Does this mean that it was a supernatural experience?  I’m going to end this by saying “that’s above my paygrade”.

A post-script of sorts:  None of the above is to imply anything about my belief in God, etc.  That’s a different story for a different time.

 

 

(*) In other words, find a way to get money from others for this “gift”.

 

Requiem for a Rambo

One of our cats, ironically named Rambo*, passed away this week after a cancer diagnosis that was made a few months ago.  Saying goodbye to him was hard but made worse by the fact that we got to see his slow slide into very ill health.  After discovering the (at the time) small tumor, we were told at the veterinarian hospital that the options were either an amputation of his back leg or making him as comfortable as possible for the time he had left.  We opted for the latter, as there was no guarantee that the cancer would be forever gone, and having an older cat re-learn how to walk on three legs seemed just wrong to us. 

The above noted, Rambo deserves to have his story told, so I’m going to do just that, blunt language and all.

I am not sure when Rambo became a pet for my two stepsons, although I think it was around 2010.  Regardless, he was apparently a very active kitten and was loved dearly by Alex and Robby.  However, as is the case far too many times, Rambo became the victim of a very bitter divorce, specifically between my stepson’s late father and Ms. Rivers.  The net effect on Rambo was that after the boys ended up no longer living with their father, he kicked Rambo out of the only home he knew, and he ended up living on the streets.

An editorial sidenote is appropriate here:  Assuming there is a higher power in the universe, I would think/hope that they would not embrace anyone in the next life who was intentionally cruel to any household pet such as a dog or a cat.  Actually, “…not embrace” is far too weak a phrase here, so I’ll instead say this:  I hope people who abuse animals spend some time in Hell for what they’ve done.  This example is included.

Anyway, Rambo was ill-equipped to live outside, but apparently made the best of it for a few months, being fed by people in the neighborhood and avoiding the terrible things that await outdoor cats.  However, after learning of this and realizing in October that things would start to get pretty cold outside, we decided to rescue him and bring him into our home.  My stepson Robby did the capture part, which was not all that difficult, seeing that Rambo came right up to him when called.  After that, Rambo got fully checked out by the veterinarian, was treated for the things that harm outdoor cats, and became a full-time member of our family.  We kept this whole thing in the down-low, so as to avoid the former owner from taking any kind of further retribution or otherwise claiming ownership of Rambo.  We were not letting him go back, ever.

Note that Rambo never once expressed any kind of desire to go back outside.  He knew better.

As a member of our family, Rambo enjoyed getting cat treats, playing with his brothers (that would include Oren and the now deceased Tiger and JeanLuc)…

(JeanLuc, Rambo, Tiger)

…and doing rollies for me.  “Rollies” in case you are curious, was basically him rolling over on this side, showing his belly, and inviting some affection most times when I would simply say “rollies” to him.  His physical condition stopped him from making rollies a few months ago, but I want to believe that, when I still asked him, he was making rollies on the inside.

As a final note, there’s been a string of losses impacting our families over the past few weeks, some of humankind in addition to the feline kind.  That sort of thing takes a toll.  However, I try to remind myself that death is as much a part of life as actually breathing is, in that both are inevitable parts of our experience in this existence.  While we (including I…) mourn, I take some solace in the fact that for many years, Rambo lived an outstanding life, hopefully making up for the cruelty he experienced in the past.

Rest in Peace RollieKitty.

 

(*) Rambo was hardly a “Rambo”, not prone to extreme behavior.  He was though a smart and thoughtful kitty.

The End of the Line

There are times in our lives when we have to deal with things that basically escape our ability to understand, explain or even maybe acknowledge our own feelings.  This sort of thing happens when you live long enough and experience a wide range of the things that life has to offer.  You think you have things basically figured out and then something happens.  Sometimes those things are not unexpected, but yet that's of little help, as no matter how good a planner we view ourselves to be, reality can have a habit of making a mockery of our mental preparations.

And so I find myself today.  

The Traveling Wilburys song "The End of the Line" has a video that's basically a tribute to Roy Orbison, who helped record the song, but had passed away before the video could be recorded.  He's memorialized in an empty chair with a guitar.  Somehow this seems fitting.  

Violence and Political Discourse

Regarding the violence perpetrated against former President Trump yesterday, I feel truly sorry for the man.  That's a terrible thing to have to go through, and while it does not appear that he was significantly harmed, it never less was traumatic.  I genuinely wish him a speedy recovery and a return to the campaign trail.

The above noted...and you know this was coming...my empathy for him ends at a certain point.  Why?  Well consider the following:

• When little children were slaughtered like cattle in Connecticut years ago, NOTHING...and I mean NOTHING...was done to prevent further violence.  I can say this as a 100% fact based on events since then.  Let me repeat - This country did NOTHING after its little children were slaughtered.  Former President Trump, as (now*) a die hard Second Amendment supporter, owns part of this, as the Second Amendment absolutists** he courts basically shrugged their shoulders after those little children were slaughtered, with a muttering of "well, that's part of the price of freedom" and the obligatory "thoughts and prayers" (followed by no action).
• What happened yesterday was not all that shocking when one considers the tone of what passes for political discourse in this country.  Here's one example from 2016 (source HERE***) -

"Hillary wants to abolish, essentially abolish the Second Amendment," Trump said to the crowd of supporters gathered in the Trask Coliseum at North Carolina University in Wilmington. "If she gets to pick her judges, nothing you can do, folks."Although the Second Amendment people, maybe there is. I don't know."

Simply put, while I fault both sides of the political extreme for their ever-increasingly terrible rhetoric, the fact this this:  Donald Trump has weaponized and normalized talk of violence.   He does this because he thinks that will resonate with some of this supporters.  The fact that there are folks on the extreme left saying things like "It's too bad they missed" is equally abhorrent...but...none of those people are running for president.  Those folks are also fools, because they themselves have allowed the former president to lower them down to his level, and when that happens, he has basically won.

My very modest hope, when all is said and done, is that maybe...just maybe...this terrible event will down down the level of hateful speech during this presidential election cycle.  I am not optimistic.

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(*) The Former President, in the past, actually supported some restrictions of gun ownership.  I heard the actual interview myself on the Howard Stern Show, back in the 1990's.

(**) I do not own a gun.  I do not like guns.  However, if law-abiding folks want to own a gun, then so be it & that right should not be taken away from them.  But society must protect us from those individuals who would use this right to harm others.  We can have gun ownership and reasonable gun ownership policies at the same time, in spite of that the National Rifle Association would have one believe.

(***) Need something more recent?  How about this (source HERE) -

Former president Donald Trump denigrated his domestic opponents and critics during a Veterans Day speech Saturday, calling those on the other side of the aisle “vermin” and suggesting that they pose a greater threat to the United States than countries such as Russia, China or North Korea. 

It's Not "Woke" We Need to Worry About

“The Woke Mind Virus Is Either Defeated Or Nothing Else Matters” (Elon Musk)

Like many in the rarified air of insane wealth and matching egos, Mr. Musk has railed against what he refers to as "woke", for all intensive purposes describing it as the thing we should be most worried about these days.  That's laughable.  Read on.

(Not So) Shockingly, I strongly disagree.  In fact, I think talk about "woke" really serves as a kind of air-cover for folks like the Emerald Mine Man-child.  A kind of "Don't look there...look over here...you can't even call someone with a cognitive disability a r****d anymore!  Those bastards!".  Politicians of some ilk love talking about it as well, as it's easier to rail against "woke" than it is to explain why every other developed nation on Earth doesn't have personal bankruptcy due to medical bills.  "Woke" is a simple word, conveniently spoken, inspiring of anger and benefiting from not really having to be explained.  Politicians do love a good slogan.

Side Note:  It may surprise some to learn that I do think that sometimes we are a bit too sensitive in this country when it comes to language and certain topics.  An example occurred when, once, I was trying to make a point about racism in a threaded discussion and I referred to the antiquated term "negros" (specifically used in quotes) as something racists would say.  Someone in that discussion literally had a fit over it, as even by using the mere word in the context of providing an example of racism somehow made me a racist by proxy.  Forget the fact that this person didn't know me (and how/where I grew up) and was literally missing the forest from the trees.   Anyway, my personal line in the sand is that my/your/our convenience of language doesn't overrule someone else's right to be treated in a respectful manner.  This is a lesson I try very hard to live by myself and worked to teach it to my daughters as well.

So, if it's not "Woke" that we need to worry about then what's left?  I propose the following:  Greed.  As in the love of, and constant desire to accumulate wealth.

Taking a step back for a moment, what kind of society believes that it's perfectly okay for some to have so much money that they can have an elevator for their cars while others literally have to worry about having enough to eat?  Ours.  Granted that it's not all of us, and I will note right off the bat...

...it's not greed to be successful at what you do

...it's not greed to want to live in a nice house

...it's not greed to live in a safe neighborhood

...it's not greed to drive a vehicle that is reliable 

...it's not greed to have enough money to have well-made clothes

...it's not greed to have more than enough to eat

...what I am talking about, and what I am convinced is what ails our society is the mentality of "greed is good".  In fact, I'll say this:  Accumulating wealth over and above a certain level is a sign of societal decay, where that "certain" level is the point where you have more than anyone could ever possibly and actually need.  Sadly enough, it's some of the religious among us that are the worst offenders.  For example, for a few years, I would listen to a very conservative Catholic radio station (affiliated with EWTN, via FM and satellite radio), and one of their favorite retorts about the glorification and justification for greed...spoken in reference to the defense of "God-given Capitalism" (their reference, not mine)...was the Gospel of Mark*, Chapter 14, verse 7:  "The poor you will always have with you".  This is, in effect, basically another example of providing air-cover for unbridled wealth, as in "Hey there will always be poor people, so the whole billionaire thing is cool." signed God.

And let's not forget the televangelists, who set the gold-standard for hypocrisy about wealth:

(This is the "home" of the Rev. Kenneth Copeland; citation HERE)

By hypocrisy, if someone is a Christian, it's pretty clear that greed and God don't go together all that well.  From the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 6, verse 24:

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money."

I will note that I am not an overly religious person, but if someone is, well, the writing is on the wall.

People will do terrible things in service of their desire to continue to accumulate wealth.  Wars have literally been fought over it, including the American Civil War (where greed was an underlying driver behind slavery).  It's the acknowledgement of a limited amount of resources that forces the greedy and powerful to engineer things like the tax code to favor them over, say, someone who is a welder for a living.  How so?  Well that 22% tax rate that the welder pays takes a hell of a lot more out of their lifestyle than say the 37% that a billionaire in theory may pay.  The "in theory" part here is important because, since the wealthy effectively control the legislative process in this country, they have helped engineer a tax system that insures that they don't end up paying what should be their tax rate.  In fact, according to the U.S. Office of Management and Budget, the average billionaire in the United States pays an effective tax rate of 8.2%.  Citation HERE.

Perpetuating the ultra-wealthy in the United States is effectively what this country is all about.  Dangling the promise of "if you behave, this could be you one day" is the fraud that many perpetuate. "Woke" is just another dodge, another distraction.

What should be done about this?  That's easier said than done, but I will note this:  Billionaires should not exist.  Ever.  If someone reaches the point where they can afford that elevator for their cars, well, maybe they need to be kicking in more to help the least in our society.

Oh, and Elon Musk really does want to talk about woke, as it's a heck of a lot easier than trying to morally justify this... https://www.cbsnews.com/news/elon-musk-pay-package-vote-cbs-news-explains/

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(*) A note about biblical verses:  I'm not picky when it comes to translations, so if you are a scholar of such things, forgive me in advance if I jump from the Good News Bible to some other one.  I just pick the language that I think reads best for the point I'm trying to make.

I'll See You In My Dreams

Yesterday, May 20^th would have been my brother Chris’s 59^th birthday.  I won’t go over the history of the “would have been” part, other than to say that I was the one who had found him after he passed.  This was (and is, I suppose) equal parts traumatic and yet a blessing…in the sense that no one else had to bear such a thing.  

In an act of synchronicity I suppose, I just happened to finish the book Stitches:  A Handbook on Meaning, Hope, and Repair by Anne Lamott, which deals in part with the idea of grief and loss.

“When you can step back at moments like these and see what is happening, when you watch people you love under fire or evaporating, you realize that the secret of life is patch patch patch. Thread your needle, make a knot, find one place on the other piece of torn cloth where you can make one stitch that will hold. And do it again. And again. And again.”
― Anne Lamott, Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope, and Repair

This was not planned by me, by the way.  As noted in a prior posting, I only recently saw enough of an improvement in my eyesight to get back into reading books in the evening.

Anyway, I’ve read several books by Anne Lamott, mostly due to one trait she fully possesses:  She gets to the truth of things…sometimes very difficult things...in ways that seem remarkably relatable and accessible.  Life is about patching, and while I can (but don’t) sew, the analogy works.

As for my brother, I still see him in the occasional dream; sometimes these are vivid, other times these fade very quickly pretty much as I wake.  In almost every instance (that I can at least recall) his role in my dreams is usually that of a partner, as in someone I am doing something with.  I will note my dreams are almost never deep or profound in any way; a better descriptive would probably be “mostly stupid”.

Thinking about yesterday’s birthday, the patches quote, at least for me, has the benefit of being true:  Life is sometimes about patching the parts of our lives that need to be mended.  These patches don’t always look good or function as well as what they are fixing, but they nevertheless seem to work, as life does go on.  It was pretty clear that, for most of my adult life, I had this vision of the relationship I would have with my brother.  That wasn't the reality of this life though, particularly towards the end, and the book has me thinking about how my life in retirement (a few years away...) will have to be patched in some small way by the loss of Chris. I don't know how this will work though.  A part of me wants to spend countless emotional calories thinking about how I will have to adjust...a strange thought 7 years since his passing...but the smarter part of me knows that I simply can't.  This is an impossible task.  

All of this points a fundamental question:  How do we effectively deal with grief?  Make that "we" an "I".  My strategy to date has been to not think of it as being grief.  Instead, I sort of wrap what little I choose to think about this in more concrete terms; see this entire posting for the most part.  Note the word "think", and not the word "feel".  7 years in and I still can't describe this whole subject in terms of feelings.  This could very well be the best defense strategy available to me.  Put another way, sometimes the enormity of something is such that the best strategy to deal with it is to not deal with it at all.  Maybe, someday, I'll graduate to some more effective form of concrete grief.  

Until then, I'll just keep seeing him in my dreams.

Dr. My Eyes

Among the things I did on my birthday was going to the eye doctor for a much needed check-up and even more needed new pair of glasses.  By way of context, there is a posting titled "Life With Walleye Vision" that provides something of a backstory.  Anyway, my old glasses were really old and it was a time for a change.  Vision checked and new glasses ordered/delivered.  In fact, I'm actually wearing the new specs as I type this screed.

There is, of course, more to this current version of the story.  

Books.

For well over a year now, I've had trouble reading books.  And I love reading books.  The trouble part isn't a lack of books...I have plenty, thank you very much.  No, the trouble is a combination of glasses that were old and kept sliding down my nose, which caused some issues with how I see things, amplified by the near constant staring at computer text all day, and sometimes into the evening.  Most of the latter relates to work (as in what I do for a living) stuff.  The net effect of it all has been the fact that, by the time I could take some time to read a book, well, my eyes were as fried as a corndog at an Iowa state fair.

I've know the above has been an issue for this entire time, so why didn't I do anything about it?  That's a damn good question, and I can't think of a conclusively good answer.  My running theory though is that much of the proceeding months, going well back into 2023, have been difficult for me professionally.  Not difficult as in "I am worried I will get fired", but actually quite the opposite:  I know I am doing good stuff and I have a habit of becoming almost fanatical about getting that good stuff done.  This sets in motion a kind of spiral of work taking over more and more of my life.  Before too long, anything that doesn't fit into the work world...and my eyes were working more or less just fine for the work stuff...became less and less important.  This includes books, and even more important other things.

I don't blame the above on my employer or anything related to my professional work for that matter.  No, I own this, 100%.  Part of what I think is getting lost in the overly litigious, entitled world of today is the fact that freedom comes with consequences, especially for doing stupid things.  In retrospect, not having a greater sense of balance in my life is probably even more stupid than wearing 4 year old glasses (when I have Walleye Vision).

I could dig deeper into this, thinking about how I was summarily retired after nearly 28 years at one employer, laid off post a corporate acquisition by an incredibly incompetent VP of learning at another, and becoming a work casualty of COVID.  Losing 3 jobs in a row, when I look back on things, is an adult-sized portion of crap to unpack.  Maybe my hyper-focus at work has something to do with an unspoken fear of yet again falling into some employment chopping block.  This, by the way, is highly unlikely at my present employer.  Logic though rarely is the driving force behind deeply emotional reactions to life events.

Focusing* back on the present, I've had these disassociated thoughts in my head now for a while, but writing this down is the first time they've actually come together into anything that remotely seems coherent.  Writing...like reading books...is good for the soul.

In the here and now, simply knowing a thing is a bit like being good at bar trivia, as in it really doesn't matter.  The truly important part is what one does when having learned a thing.  For me, that means getting some balance back into my life.  This is my work in progress.

(*) Obligatory eye pun.

Old

[11:15am, April 27, 2024]

Friday marked what a local Northeastern PA weatherman calls "another trip around the sun" for me.  Specifically, it was my 60th such trip. This is a monumental achievement, well, if this were the 1400's. As it stands, April 26, 2024, was pretty much another day, all be it in a rather bumpy week.  More on that in a moment.

Regarding the above-mentioned trip around the sun, Ms. Rivers had asked me if I wanted to do anything special for the big day.  (not) Shockingly, I said no.  I did, however, request coconut cream pie. And pizza. Both wishes were honored.  

Now is where I am supposed to offer some road apple of older-person wisdom, but I won't. Well, I won't other than this:  At age 60 I am still learning new stuff...both about myself and the world around me...and this is a good thing.  On a related note, a valid question to ask at this kind of occasion is "what does it feel like to be 60?", and based on this past week, my answer is a solid "I hope not like this".  Let me count the ways.

The week started with me trying to deal with the remnants of a cold I acquired the weekend before. Now I don't get colds very often; something like every other year sounds about right. When I do though there is about a 25% chance that it will cause some asthma-related issues. That was this case, and I am pecking this out now while sitting at a local DMV office, getting my driver's license renewal, with what feels like a feather duster stuck between the back of my nose and my throat. Interesting analogy, I know, but also a practical pain in the rear-end. 

Speaking of pain, coughing, at this stage, feels like an Olympic sport. Literally, my very diaphragm feels like it has run a marathon and now is being asked to swim 49 laps.  I want to cough, but it doesn't feel all that great plus it's also not that productive (from a "getting crap out of my system" perspective).  

[later in the day...]

Driver's license in hand, it's now the evening.  In totality, I was at the above referenced DMV office for less than an hour, which is nothing short of remarkable.  The staff was friendly and efficient, something one doesn't always associate with such places.  

Side Note:  Is complaining about one's health a stereotypical thing that "old people" do?  I may be skating on thin ice with this posting.

Anyway, back to the week that was.  Cold and asthma issues noted, I ended up going to a local urgent care, as breathing was becoming a bit of a problem by the time Monday afternoon came about.  After about a 20 minute wait, I saw an outstanding nurse practitioner, who was very, very helpful.  Some blood was drawn, nebulizer treatment performed and 'roids prescribed.  Also required was a chest x-ray, which necessitated a trip of about 3 miles to another health facility.  That was done in short order, as were the x-ray results: No pneumonia, arthritis in my spine and some kind of lump in my lungs.

Not the best of news.

Fast forward to Thursday and I ended up getting a CT Scan.  The good news is that lump really wasn't there...curse those two-dimensional x-rays...although there were other things of a lessor-but-still-sucky nature.  Still, it took a lot off my chest (figuratively speaking), and now I'm "just" dealing with dry coughs and the occasional wheeze.  I am also nearly done with the 'roids treatment, which has helped a bit, but not a lot.  I will say this though...I am feeling better, all be it at a pace that seems all too slow.  

There is something of a cosmic/karmic lesson in all of this stuff, what with getting older, health scares, etc. all coming together in a week.  I absolutely know that I have not been a friend to my physical body over the past few years, with it subjugated to a lessor importance as I try to navigate the murky waters of being late in my professional life, with all the stress that entails.  There is lots of irony to go around, including the notion that I have the potential for a long and fulfilling retirement in a few years, complete with a reasonable amount of financial stability, but yet I seem to be subversively doing things that might impede that from happening.  For someone who prides himself on being logical (me), it's all so very illogical.  

Difficult times though offer dramatic opportunities for clarity in life.  This is a kind of true-ism that is easier to write than to actually experience, but here I am, and I know where I need to go.

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Post Script

I know the above reads to be pretty dark for something that should be a bit more uplifting, namely a "milestone" birthday.  The week, by the way, was not all terrible; for example, I had a chance to attend a half-day workshop on A.I. in Philadelphia on Tuesday that was very interesting.  I also had my pizza and coconut cream pie Friday, complete with candles, after a work-day full of birthday wishes from co-workers and friends.  There was much gratitude to be had.

I also received two thoughtful birthday cards, a bag of treasured circus peanuts (the candy that tastes like bananas, not actual peanuts), and Ms. Rivers and I went for a nice drive after dinner.  I wanted a simple day and that's what I got.  While a lunkhead at heart, I am learning that, as I do grow older, there is a kind of "seen but still unseen" beauty in simplicity.  My more intellectual view of the universe, complete with near constant analysis of anything and everything, makes this harder at times, but the ultimate importance of simplicity...such as taking care of your physical self...is not to be trifled or diminished.

Here's to growing older and always trying to grow smarter at the same time.

Storyworth & Other Assorted Bits-O-News

It's been a while since I've posted, but not since I've done any similar writing.  That statement makes sense through the lens of Storyworth, a kind of project that will take most of this year to complete.  You can learn more about Storyworth HERE.  This was part of a Christmas gift from my youngest daughter, and I have to confess, I am enjoying it.  The premise is this:

• Family members ask a weekly question
• I write a response
• At the end of the year the whole thing is turned into a book

This week's question, which I haven't started answering, is...

My answers to these questions generally run in the 600-900 word range.  Anyway, if you have someone in your life that enjoys writing, this makes a memorable gift...for both the writer and the people that get a copy of the book.

In other news:

• Eclipse/Rapture...I was not raptured on Monday.  Hell, I didn't even get light-headed.  Thankfully, no one else did either (the rapture part, that is).  On a more serious note, maybe, just maybe, the idiots that spout this stuff should be publicly humiliated.  That would make a great website...tracking the stupid stuff public figures predict that never come true.  
• Earthquake...I was working from home on Tuesday when we had an earthquake.  Details HERE.  I didn't feel a thing.  Ms. Rivers did, but then again I was in the work-zone, a not-so-magical place where I probably miss a lot of things happening around me.
• Florida...Ms. Rivers and I spent a few days in St. Augustine, Florida, a week or two ago.  I enjoyed having time off in a warmer place, and going to Buc-ees is always a blast.  The place is definitely a bucket-list kind of thing, which sounds like an almost comically American stereotype (think "I aspire one day to visit the world's largest gas station").  Also on the docket was a trip to the self-identified Fountain of Youth.  I did drink water from the actual fountain, but I don't think that is going to stop my 60th birthday from coming in a few weeks.  As for the fountain water, the taste could best be described as being liquid scrambled eggs.  Finally on the Florida side of things, you can mark that as being one of the places I have no plans to ever live in, now or in retirement.  The winter weather is nice, but the one advantage we have up north is the exhilaration felt when Spring finally arrives.  It's as close to a legal high as I have ever experienced.
• Scranton Times Death Spiral...The Scranton Times, a local newspaper, shut down reader comments a few days ago.  There was no article written about the change, just an email sent to those who partook of the seeming privilege.  I did, with some regularity, comment on articles, but only under my own name.  That was a rarity for the comments section, which was dominated by anonymous dog whistling keyboard komandos, spewing not-so-subtle racism and sports team politics.  Not the best presentation of Northeastern Pennsylvania residents, but then again this is what you get when you don't hold folks accountable for what they write.  A better solution would have been to require anyone commenting on an article to actually post using their real name.  This would make sense if the function was killed for reasons of common decency, but then again the actual reason was far more cost-cutting than anything else.  Yet another victim of the Scranton Times sale.  
  
  
  

As Billy Joel once noted, "and so it goes".  

More to come.
        

Re-naming a Stadium & White-Washing History

This will be short, simple and to the point.

Renaming Beaver Stadium to Honor Joe Paterno

Yes, there has been some movement among trustees of the Pennsylvania State University (Penn State) to rename the school's stadium from the current Beaver Stadium to one that features former Penn State football coach Joe Paterno.

Just to save time, this is at the root of the controversy:

Penn State Scandal

From the above link...

March 2, 2002 - Graduate Assistant Mike McQueary tells Coach Joe Paterno that on March 1, he witnessed Sandusky sexually abusing a 10-year-old boy in the Lasch Building showers. On May 7, 2012, prosecutors file court documents to change the date of the assault to on or around February 9, 2001.

March 3, 2002 - Paterno reports the incident to Athletic Director Tim Curley. Later, McQueary meets with Curley and Senior Vice President for Finance and Business Gary Schultz. McQueary testifies that he told Curley and Schultz that he saw Sandusky and the boy engage in anal sex; Curley and Schultz testify they were not told of any such allegation. No law enforcement investigation is launched.

May 6, 2016 - CNN reports the story of another alleged victim who explains how he was a troubled young kid in 1971 when Sandusky raped him in a Penn State bathroom. He says his complaint about it was ignored by Paterno.

July 12, 2016 - Newly unsealed court documents allege that Paterno knew about Sandusky’s abuse and that he dismissed a victim’s complaint.

A bottom line of sorts, for me, is this:  At some point, Joe Paterno did follow the letter of the law in reporting the abuse allegation.  He did not, however, follow the spirit of the law.  He did just enough to try and move past the controversy in order to focus back on football.  Simply put, that's not enough.  As I noted in a Facebook comment, if what happened was some NCAA rules violation, then I'd be somewhat sympathetic.  But this was something that involved sexual abuse.  This was more important than football.  For coach Paterno though it was not.  

Joe Paterno had a moral obligation to put the welfare of children and young adults before that of his football program.  He should be held to a higher standard over and above simply compliance.  He did not do that, and that is unforgiveable.

Does this tarnish everything that Joe Paterno did at Penn State?  No.  He still has a library named after him, which is fitting given his reputation for nominally insisting that Penn State football players also be serious students.  I also happen to believe that his coaching record should not reflect the scandal, and attempts to somehow erase what he accomplished as a coach were/are a bad idea, as it punishes the students who played on all of his teams.

I don't have much of a voice when it comes to Penn State internal politics, but I'm not without one either.  As a graduate, Life Member of the Alumni Association, benefactor to the university (helping to fund a scholarship at Penn State Harrisburg), former board member of the Penn State Harrisburg Alumni Society and member of the Atherton Society, I think I've earned the right to express an opinion.  And express an opinion to the Trustees and Administration I will.

Joe Paterno does not deserve the honor of having a stadium named after him.  Doing so is an insult to the victims of sexual abuse and to those alumni of Penn State who view the university as far more than just a football team.  Penn State is better than this.

Just Browsing...

I love looking at real estate listings.  Granted that there actually is a practical, if not immediate, reason to do so, namely the purchase of a retirement home in a few years.  The bigger reason though is that I just find old homes to be interesting.  

The house shown below is old, but I wouldn't use the word interesting to describe it.

This was my late brother Chris' house.  The last time I was in that house was probably early February, 2017, as it was being prepared to be sold by his wife.  My thought was to just go through the place, with her permission (of course), looking for any old family things that could be saved, prior to the sale.  I don't recall what I found there on that day, as it was an extremely difficult visit.  Prior to this, I had been there late morning on January 5, 2017 when I found my brother after he had passed away.  At the time, there was no heat in the house, so his body was frozen.  My fingers can still feel the sensation of touching him, thinking initially that he was just sleeping.  

More on this is noted in prior blog postings.

Seeing the listing was kind of stunning for me.  I have stopped once or twice over the past few years (as recently as three weeks ago) just to see the condition of the place, as it slowly rotted away.  I don't believe that it has been actually occupied since it was sold in 2017; as best I can recall from Chris' wife, it was sold to someone from New York, but nothing was ever done with it.  Fast forward to now, and I did see a condemnation notice on the door from the City of Scranton, so perhaps the absent owner thought it best to cover his/her losses and get rid of the property.  Interestingly enough, there already is a pending sale for it.

The timing of this listing/sale in mid-January I suspect is a kind of synchronicity of sorts, given the history noted above.  Maybe this is a kind of karmic way of getting it all over with together.  Maybe this is a kind of ending chapter.

Whatever happens regarding the sale, I just have one hope:  That whoever buys the property fixes it up and that there end up being children living in the place.  I think little kids running around is precisely the kind of exorcism the place needs.  The house, and my brother's memory, would like such a thing.

Making 2024 Small

"How 'bout getting off of these antibiotics?

How 'bout stopping eating when I'm full up?

How 'bout them transparent dangling carrots?

How 'bout that ever elusive kudo?"

(Thank You, Alanis Morissette)

As I noted in a prior post, every end of year I think about what happened in the 12 months past, and what I want to accomplish in the 12 months to come.  "Resolutions" sounds so formal...and I'm not a really formal kind of person...so I'm going to go with "goals"...and I've been thinking a bit more about this over the past week or so.  My track record in achieving these goals is, by all objective standards,  terrible.  Like Don Quixote though, I keep at it for reasons that mostly escape me but nevertheless seem like something of a noble quest. 

Anyway, a part of what I want to accomplish in 2024 can be thought of as "Thinking Small"

Thinking Small

Given my pending birthday this year, I actually think I am reasonably healthy.  Granted that there are a few chronic things going on (heart rate issues, for example), but all things considered, I think I am doing okay.  This noted, I need to do a better job of managing my weight.  That's not for reasons of vanity or anything else of the sort...it's strictly because I want to be as healthy for as long as possible, mostly because there is still a lot in my life to be done.  First on the docket for this goal is to simply think smaller in terms of what I eat.  As in just eating less.

Managing weight is basically a simple math problem:  Calories in, calories out (burned).  For me, a big part of this is that I simply sit too much.  Especially when I am at work.  More on some work stuff in a moment.  But I can't afford to be desk bound for hours at a time either.  This is an easy thing to write, but hard to do (for many reasons...), and I don't have a way to solve for this yet.  But I am going to figure something out.  

Perspective

I need to re-envision, if you will, my relationship with what I do for a living.  I don't want to work less, I don't want a simpler job, and I don't want to be "comfortable".  What do I want?  It's not a question of want in as much as it is a need...I need a greater mental and physical balance in my life.  Some might call this "work-life balance", but that doesn't do this justice.  Besides, I have an entire posting in my head on the subject of "work-life balance", so I'm not going to hash that out here.  Instead, I just need what I do to earn a living to not exhaust me, mostly because it shouldn't.  Yes, what I do is important, and I get to work with great people; however, I'm not curing cancer, stopping crime or preventing the fall of Western Civilization.  

I need to find a spot where I work hard, help those I work with, and have more time for the rest of my life.  Simple, huh?

As a side note, my retirement from the full-time workforce isn't imminent, but it's also not that far away.  Do I have a date in mind?  Yes.  Am I going to share that?  No.  One of the smarter things I learned from nearly three decades working with very smart people at Prudential is that you never give an employer too much advanced notice of your retirement.  Why?  The moment you do, you give your employer license to possibly treat you not as well (Think "He's going to be leaving anyway, so __________."). 

Simplify, Simplify, Simplify

I've already started working on this goal. What is it, you may ask?  Well, I need to let go of some things.  Most of these things are physical stuff, as in I have DVI to HDMI converter cables for some reason.  As in I have a ton of old books that I don't ever plan on reading.  As in I am right now looking on a shelf where I have old notebooks.  Heck, I don't even know what is in these notebooks.  I am simply awash in stuff.  There is also some mental stuff in the back corners of my head as well that could probably do for, if not a purge, then a re-assignment to the mental equivalent of a Siberian Gulag.  

Time

"Time the past has come and gone

The future's far away

And now only lasts for one second, one second"

(Time, Hootie and the Blowfish)

Time is speeding up as I get older, a point which I think is ultimately at the heart of what Einstein was trying to prove with his Theory of Relativity.  It's only been over the past 2 or 3 years that I've actually been aware of this fact.  Nevertheless, I have things to do, and it's getting to the point where those things need to be larger in my life and less about the nuts and bolts of what I'm doing between 8am and 5:30pm-ish most days.  There are pictures to be taken, words to be written, things to be torn down, things to be built, cats to be petted, people to help and walks to be had with Ms. Rivers. 

None of us are promised time, by the way.  It all can end at any given moment for reasons of the tragic (struck by a drunk driver) or the dramatic (nuclear holocaust created radioactive cockroaches) or the mundane.   We just don't know, so it's all the more important to treat the time we have with the sense of reverence that it deserves.

Simply put, I think we all need to do a better job of honoring our time.  

Persistence

Recent events have left me thinking "why me?" once again.  This, by the way, is not a question of "why did this terrible thing happen to me?", but instead, why am I the one who is still standing?  Think of it as being a kind of survivor's guilt that's tough to explain to someone else who hasn't been through certain kinds of terribleness.  Anyway, as I ponder this sort of thing most every early January, I've come to the conclusion that it all comes down to one word: Persistence.  Either I've been blessed with this personal quality or I'm just too pig-headed to back down from things.  Both probably are true.  While this has certainly served me well, I'd gladly give a bit of it up if it would be/have been available in some small measure to certain others.

So, long ago, was it just a dream?

Time to march into 2024.