Murmurs from the Porcelain Throne

Halloween Treats

2009-10-30T18:06:00.000-07:00

Originally posted October 30, 2004 this piece for me captures the Halloween I grew up with so different from the one my kids celebrate today.

I love autumn. Here in Southern California it signals the beginning of the Santa Ana’s a warm sometimes dangerous wind that blows across the desert and down through the canyons. I love the smell of the air, I love the crisp cool nights and most especially I love the changing leaves as cycle through their green, red and orange color scheme.

As a kid, like most of us, here in the states especially I loved Halloween. Letting your childish imagination run wild one night out of the year. Picking a costume that either reflected what was popular or how creative you could be.

That is one area in which I feel sorry for the kids of today. It seems that costume manufacturers have sucked most of the creativity out of the holiday. Where in my youth the streets would be filled with a dazzling array of homemade costumes, today it seems that nine out of ten kids arrive wearing a pre-manufactured character of the moment. Never knowing the joy and excitement one can feel when their own costume idea comes to life before their eyes as they prepare for weeks in anticipation of the big day.

Back in the day the treats were also a lot more plentiful. Before candy makers discovered the profitability in making bite size bars houses used to hand out full sized Milky Way’s and Hershey Chocolate Bars. It was a chocolate lovers paradise. Now days most kids come home with a bag of candy bits or pieces of gum nothing like the treasure troves I remember.

Best of all was being able to walk the streets for hours combing the neighborhoods far and wide searching for that special Halloween treat. If we were lucky there would be a warm Santa Ana wind blowing, maybe a few clouds in the sky and a beautiful full moon lighting the pathways we followed on our big adventure.

Being Catholic there was the added benefit of November 1st being a school holiday. Though All Saints Day is a holy day of obligation to us kids it meant an hour of church and a whole day free to dive into our Halloween Treats.

Wind, Rewind

2009-10-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

Today here in Southern California we had high winds for the first time in a while. In fact they are still blowing as I write this. It reminded me of a wind storm from the past......

It was 1980. I had just received a phone call from a complete stranger telling me that my father, whom I had not seen for years, had passed away. When my mom and siblings got home I shared the news which was met by complete indifference.

Outside the wind was ripping through the trees. Tossing lawn furniture and garbage cans alike around like rag dolls. A perfect representation of the turmoil I was feeling inside. Shock, despair, numbness, sorrow and indifference all fighting for attention.

Just when I thought the surprises for the night had ended, the power went out and you would have thought it made everyone stupid. My mom was frustrated by the electric can opener until it dawned on her that it was electric. My sister was frustrated by the blow dryer until she reached the same reality.

Me I was just frustrated.

I left the house climbing the hill in our backyard.

The wind tore through me as I cried for a man I never really knew, ripping away my tears and scattering them across the valley......

Seasonal Irony

2009-10-26T09:34:00.000-07:00

A bank window with the grim reaper collecting the soul of his next victim.......

Slow Speed Chase

2009-10-25T09:33:00.000-07:00

Still chasing that truck from the previous post. Upper respiratory infection. Lower respiratory infection. Sideways respiratory infection. You name it the respiratory is infected. Antibiotics for the infection. Steroids for the inflammation. Xanex for the ever present anxiety multiplied by judicious use of said steroids. Which affects breathing which requires the use of steroids which causes anxiety. Can we see a pattern forming?

Damaged (10-20-2005)

2009-10-20T01:26:00.000-07:00

To satisfy my curiosity as to what I was posting years ago and to also give a sampling of the past to any new readers who may accidentally stumble across my mutterings I will periodically travel through time and bring something from the archives to share once again.

Damaged was first posted in October 2005.

a soul of
fragile porcelain
uncomfortably
wrapped in delicate
human skin
burning
with untamed
hunger
searching
half formed memories
of a more
perfect world
spiritual
darkness free
jealous free
anger free
drug induced
memories of
life before life
understanding
fails when
evolutions
ultimate quest
becomes
perfection
which in turn
leads to
stagnation
which leads
to extinction
of that
which claims
perfection
sowing
the seeds
for evolutions
journey
to begin
again
an endless quest
for understanding
a burning desire
to know
what is beyond
the next
galaxy

Follow That Truck.....

2009-10-18T20:56:00.000-07:00

I feel as if I was run over by a truck, kicked in the head by a mule, mauled by a rabid coyote and p*****d on by a syphilitic skunk. And this is a good day.

All my respiratory symptoms and anxiety symptoms have hit at the same time. It is as if a 6.5 Earthquake and a Tornado have hit my body leaving behind one quivering survivor.

I need the inhaler for the lack of breathing ability but at the same time the steroids in said inhaler are sending my anxiety levels off the scale. I really do not know if I am coming or going.

Despite the years of illness it feels as if I have never felt so tight and anxious.

Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

Winter, Fall, Gone?

2009-10-16T21:03:00.000-07:00

Anybody who lives outside of California will most likely toss virtual raspberries my way but it cannot be helped the weather news must be reported.

I know in other parts of the world there are those asking global warming? What the heck is global warming?

Here in California it is another story. At the beginning of the week it was cold, damp and rainy. The first measurable rain in more than six months. The streets were wet and long pants were dug out of the closet.

Today just a few days later and it was ninety five degrees. The shorts were back out and the jeans were naught but a memory.

Either global warming is affecting just So Ca or our weather has developed more multiple personalities than we are used.

Personally I am going with the latter I mean So Ca is a very strange place why should the weather be exempt.

Guns 'r Us

2009-10-14T00:01:00.000-07:00

The bumper sticker read, "Guns kill people like spoons made Rosie O'Donnel fat."

Now I am wise enough to realize that no matter how much the gun lovers and the gun haters scream at each other nothing will ever really change. What irritates me is the lack of foundation in some of the arguments embraced by both sides. In this case obviously someone who is pro gun.

Looking at his argument logically we are supposed to equate a spoon with a gun.

Rosie O'Donnel may not meet his standards of beauty but whatever she does with a spoon she only damages herself if she abuses its use. She is not driving through the hood throwing spoons at innocent bystanders. A spoon will 99.9% of the time hurt only the over eater and no one else. Of course in those rare cases someone can sharpen the spoon into a shank and use it to stab someone but how often does that really happen.

A gun on the other hand is a horse of a different color. Sure the majority of gun owners practice gun safety and do not run around willy nilly firing at anything that moves. However in the wrong hands guns ruin lives on a daily basis. Such as in a drive by when the intended target escapes a hail of bullets while a sleeping baby winds up with a bullet in the brain.

His bumper sticker does not hold water.

I am sure most would agree, have a stance but at least think through your arguments before sharing them with the world.

A Return Of Sorts

2009-10-13T23:37:00.000-07:00

I have been away from the blogging world for quite sometime. More than two and half years it seems. Does not feel as if it has been that long but none the less the facts do not lie.

A lot of water has passed beneath my own personal bridge since last I visited these pages. Two deaths, illness, and the birth of a brand new son.

In a lot of ways I am not the same person that I was when last I allowed my fingers to roam the keyboard. I do not feel creative. My creativity as gone from rainbow bright to shades of gray. I cannot seem to find the Spark needed to reclaim that poetic/story telling fire.

That being said I was inspired by a Spark of an idea to give it a whirl so I will try to once again share my thoughts and randomness for those few who care to listen.

Enjoy the ride.

Thoughts and Prayers

2007-01-02T12:33:00.000-08:00

Carrie over at echomouse could use all the prayers, chants, healing thoughts and all out caring that we can manage.

If you have visited her site in the past than you may remember that she has been dealing with her own personal health issues for many years. Through out she has managed to approach life with a smile and a heart bigger than most.

The past few months have not been the best of times for her. Beside her ongoing health issues she recently found out that her mother has stage 4 cancer and that her father has alzheimer's. She is the primary care giver for both. And therefor has spent the better part of sixty days running around like the proverbial headless chicken. With hardly anytime to stop and take care of her own health needs.

If you have a chance stop by her blog and say hello. Moral support is never, ever a bad thing.

Invitation

2006-12-19T11:35:00.000-08:00

I know some of you who have wandered past the throne have also taken the time to visit Ryan's blog "His Shadow Paces the Floor". Not only is Ryan my son, reason enough for me to plug his site, but he has a unique vision and his writing will leave you with a million and one thoughts running through your head.

As anyone who has blogged for any length of time knows the blog god's are a fickle lot and some of their actions are unexplainable. A few months back for no reason "His Shadow Paces the Floor" disapeared from the blogscape. Ryan tried to recover it but to no avail it was just gone.

So he has taken the opportunity to reinvent his blog. If you have a chance drop in at
Fear and Loathing in Orange County and say hello.

Dusting Off The Throne

2006-12-14T14:56:00.000-08:00

Two months can pass in the wink of an eye. One minute it was mid October and suddenly I find myself in mid December.

The throne is dusty, ensnared in cobwebs and showing signs of sixty days worth of neglect.

Is there a story behind by recent absence. Not really. Nothing that explains my lack of postings nor my hermit like existence that has even sapped the energy needed to visit my favorite blogger's.

The best explanation would be that I have been sans muse. My robes of creativity have gone missing and I have found myself wandering naked through a wilderness of tangled thoughts. Caught in the briar's and brush of complacency. Without compass and without the wherewithal to continue the journey without direction.

So without any motivation I sat on my writer's block and pondered. Than pondered some more.

Did I find any answers? Well no not really. I am still lost in the mundane desert but I am feeling at least the echo of a spark. Just a brief glow somewhere within that says it is time to try again.

Not sure how it will work. How much I will post nor how often.

Maybe at this point it does not matter.

Maybe, just maybe it is enough to try.

anonymous

2006-10-16T16:21:00.000-07:00

i thought i had been visiting my pharmacy to frequently when the pharmacist herself began to recognize me. i chalked it up to having dealt with her during several rather stressful situations when approvals were pending on various medications i needed. she was always more than helpful. including printing out yearly lists of prescriptions filled for my records.

now that thought has been confirmed. even the girls on the register not only recognize me but if they see me in line they pull my filled prescription and have it waiting for me.

while the quick service is appreciated i would much rather spread my visits far apart and go back to being anonymous.......

invasion of the body snatcher's

2006-10-15T16:09:00.000-07:00

fall.....the air is crisp. the leaves are turning. and there is a sense of something ominous on the horizon. flu season is just around the corner. or in my case residing within my home.

first sabrina came down with the flu. i assumed that cristian would soon follow. usually when their are multiple children in a household they will fall like domino's. one brings home the bug and soon a feverish hush falls in what are normally sonic dens of noise and activity.

and this time was no different except for one minor twist in the plot. cristian got sick......with the stomach flu not the expected flu..flu.

in one part of the house was sabrina snorkling and coughing, in the other was cristian feverishly clutching the porcelain throne doing his best to keep his organ's where god intended them to remain.

i am sure without much thought you can see where this is going.

with my lousy immune system i ended up with the trifecta.

my normal ickiness wheezing and coughing, sabrina's flu and cristian's stomach flu. my body was being pulled in so many directions i felt like stretch armstrong in the hands of a five year old.

one benefit of having been sick for so long though is recognizing the early warning signs. as soon as my stomach began rebelling and my bones began aching i was on the phone with my doctor. with prescriptions of compazine and tamiflu in hand i was able to avoid the most severe symptoms.

while i am still feeling less than stellar i am doing better than i expected when i first realized what was heading my way.

1959

2006-10-02T19:14:00.000-07:00

Original post October 2004.

1959, the evening of October 1^st, somewhere around 10:00 PM. The young mother to be was sure that after nearly a month of false starts that the consistent, savage pain had to be the beginning of labor. She bit her lip to the point of drawing blood as another wave of pain crashed over her.

She knew the pain would be beyond description but this pain was almost beyond reason. Advice concerning both carrying and delivering a baby had come at her like raindrops in a summer squall. Even customer customers at the diner felt compelled beyond acceptable social norms to reach out and pat the belly tossing advice like tips her way.

“Your carrying high it will be a boy.”

“Your carrying high it will be a girl.”

“Your so big you must be carrying twins.”

“You shouldn’t be working deary, bed rest is the key to a healthy, happy baby.”

“Good for you sweetie, work is the best thing for expectant moms.”

Of course the most difficult of the unsolicited advice always came from dear sweet mom.

“Twenty is much to young to be a mother. You are still a baby yourself.”

“You and Wayne have been married near two years and you have had a miscarriage and now you’re close to being a mom. What’s the hurry? Why in my day…”

“You should have gone to college, met a nice professional man. Traveled had babies later. But no you never listen to me.”

She was startled back to the present by the horn of the Cadillac as Wayne pulled up to take her to the hospital. He said he had been working late; working on another hangover was closer to the truth. She could smell the beer on his breath, a smell he had tried to cover with the smell of several stick of gum. The mixture of scents brought her to the brink of nausea. Throwing up in the front seat was only prevented by another wave of pain, which nearly doubled her over.

The maternity ward at the hospital was rather quiet. Which in and of itself was not surprising since the grand opening of this wing had been two days ago. She had never expected to give birth here. Her due date had been the first week of September and arrangements had been made for her to deliver at the new hospital in the next town over. Despite the worry she was secretly glad she was late, she new the staff at this hospital and felt much more at home.

With I’s dotted and t’s crossed, Wayne ensconced in the waiting room the duty nurse escorted her to the labor room. She helped her to clumsily change out of the tent that was laughingly called a maternity dress, kept her from falling when the next wave hit and made her as comfortable as possible when she climbed into bed.

The pain was coming fast and furious and the young mother was sure that within hours she would be the proud new mother of a beautiful baby. Those hopes were dashed when the doctor informed her after an examination that she was barely two centimeters dilated and there was a ways to go before the actual birthing process began.

Hours passed with a slowness that only comes with a combination of anticipation and fear. Each visit from the doctor brought the anticipation of childbirth only to have her hopes dashed by the iceberg like slowness of her body’s response to task at hand.

October 2^nd five o’clock in the afternoon and the faint glow of a light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel appeared on her horizon. Exhaustion wrapped her body in a cocoon of sweat combined with random tremors wracking muscles that before today she would have sworn were not part of her physiology.

Hope swelled within as she imagined in mere moments nuzzling the neck of her child.

The delivery room was cold, white and sterile. Dominated by a device that only the Marquis de Sade could have imagined. The nurse explained to her that it was a bed designed to assist in the delivery process. In her mind all she saw was a massive device of inhuman torture.

Several nurses assisted has she was moved from her bed to this remnant of the Spanish Inquisition. They took her legs, strapping them onto metal like arms, which left her spread-eagled for the world to see.

At this point she was beyond caring. Labor pains were mere minutes apart. Sweat was pouring from every pore. Her hair was stuck to her head in clumps and her face was white from the strain of contractions.

Finally the doctor made his grand appearance. Robed, masked and gloved a conductor prepared to lead the symphony. He directed the various nurses to their stations pulled up a stool and proceeded to perform a thorough examination. With new vigor he announced that the magic number of ten centimeters had been reached and that I was now allowed to push with controlled abandon.

One nurse held my hand with each painful push as another angel wiped my clammy feverish forehead with a cold cloth. One push followed another like clockwork. Hours seemed to pass in minutes yet no progress was made. The doctor could be heard cursing under his breath. Mumbling something about the baby’s head.

Ten o’clock and the new mother was close to exhaustion. Contractions on top of contraction had brought her to a new chasm from which she was not sure she could return.

She may have passed out for a moment, when she came to she was looking in to the concerned eyes of her doctor.

“We have a serious situation on our hands. Your child’s head seams to have become stuck in the canal. You have begun to bleed which is not a good sign. We are doing our best to keep the two you with us but it is touch and go. If we do not get this baby out soon he could suffocate and/or you could bleed to death. You need to stay with us, focus, lets get that baby out for both of your sakes.”

They gave her a brief respite from pushing. Allowing her some ice chips and some tortured breaths between contractions. The doctor took advantage of the diversion and went to the waiting room to speak to her husband.

He found him on the sidewalk in front of the hospital nervously pacing the sidewalk with a Camel clenched between his thumb and index finger. Upon seeing the doctor his face grew pale and he ground his half smoked cigarette into the sidewalk. The doctor explained the situation with the added caveat that at some point a choice may have to be made as who to save the unborn child or his wife. In his heart he selfishly wanted to say his wife but he knew that without blinking she would of said their child so that was what he told the doctor save the child.

Returning to the delivery room the doctor soon found the delivery going from bad to worse. The baby was still in the canal. The mother was bleeding and her blood pressure was dangerously low. At this point he was not sure he could save either.

Stepping to the head of the table he gripped her hand for one final pep talk. “I know you are beyond exhaustion and that you just want to sleep. Most would have given up by now. Your will to live is strong and I refuse to lose either of you. So what I want you to do is dig deep and find some reserve of energy buried deep within. Use that energy to give me one last series of strong pushes. It will hurt like hell but we will save you and your baby”

Weakly she squeezed his hand in agreement and geared herself for one last try.

With hands and medical tools at the ready he gave the nurses the signal for her to begin. She screamed with the effort and pushed with every last ounce of reserve. Flesh tore but by some miracle the doctor was finally able to see the crown of the child’s head. Another push more screaming and tearing and better than half of the head was through the canal. A final scream and prolonged push and like a cork the baby shot out into the doctors waiting arms. He handed the baby to the nurses who informed the exhausted mother that she had a baby boy.

The doctor was more concerned about the damage done to the woman’s body. In the background he could here the angry cry of the newborn as his airway was cleaned and he was wrapped in warm blankets. For his part needle and thread in hand he began the long process of sewing the torn pieces of her body back together.

In the end close to two hundred stitches were needed to repair the damage to her young body. Her boy’s head had been too big for the canal due to the lateness of the delivery. In 1959 the technology did not exist to identify these problems in vitro. By the grace of God and the skill of the hospital staff both mother and son survived.

And by the way the mother in question was my very own who I love honor and cherish to this day. Before you ask yes the bigheaded baby was me.

Thanks Mom.

chimney

2006-10-01T08:22:00.000-07:00

spent the past few days in bullhead city, arizona visiting my mother. considering the various health issues that she is dealing with her energy and vitality came as quite a surprise. without questions she is not as vibrant as she was pre-cancer yet she still manages to kick ass and take names most days.

since the age of seventeen mom has been a smoker. unfiltered camel's her poison of choice. when she was diagnosed with the bone cancer (after a heart attack and two battles with breast cancer) she said she was quitting.

and for the most part she did.

yet the scent of tobacco was like the cloud of dust following pigpen she could never shake it. i knew she was sneaking cigarettes, yet when we discussed it she always swore she was not.

every once in awhile i would almost catch her in the act. we would be out someplace and she would excuse herself. more than once i went looking for her and observed her from a distance sneaking a drag or two. i never walked up to her with a loud gotcha. i figured she was an adult and if a cigaretter here or there helped her to relax where was the harm. it is not as if stopping smoking would have solved the whole terminal cancer problem.

that being said this past may when i was visiting her we were at the casino's and i again saw her sneaking a cigaretter. i felt bad for her, it was as if she was a teenager again hiding her habit from mom and dad.

so i walked up and sat down next to her while she was still taking a drag and she quickly went to hide the smoking butt.

i told her it was okay. i was not going to lecture her. if she needed to smoke, than smoke. she said it was only once in awhile when she was at the casino and that it helped her to relax. we left it at that and the rest of my visit i never saw her smoke another one.

what a difference a few months makes. this past weekend we were once again at the casino's and she has graduated from sneaking one now or than to a virtual human smokestack. i cannot remember the last time i saw her smoke this much. it has been years.

it is a rather odd situation. on one hand i want to grab her and ask her what the hell she is doing that much smoking cannot be good for her. on the other i understand that being in constant pain and dealing with not knowing when the cancer might take another leap maybe just to stressful for her and the cigarettes are what she uses to calm her nerves.

the saddest part is that while we were at the casino's i spent less time with her than usual because my lungs just cannot handle the smoke.......

intimidation

2006-09-25T10:34:00.000-07:00

rumors of me leaving the digital world of blogging for the old fashioned world of hand written journals are greatly exaggerated. i for one can barely decipher my own handwriting which would leave me with entries that i could not read with no clue as to what i was thinking. than there was the practicality of snail mailing copies of the journal entries to interested parties. the cost alone would have left me wanting in the finance department. not to mention the blow to my ego when no one wanted a copy.

in reality i have been fighting through a bit of writer's block and a whole lot of intimidation.

the writer's block has been riding my back sucking my imagination dry for almost two months now. as evidenced by my very inconsistant postings. an entry followed by days of silence. hours spent avoiding the creative process. finding any excuse not to write or even attempt to write. i had nothing.

about two weeks ago the parasite on my back faded to black. it seemed as if the writer's block without warning had left as quietly as it had come. i was ready. i wanted to write. i wanted to go back to the time where daily posts were more near the norm.

than disaster struck. not huge and explosive disasters in the biblical since. no voice of god. no floods. no ark. no, the disaster was in a much more personal sense.

i found myself intimidated by the prospect of writing and of blogging.

a million and a half ideas were fighting to be first in line and yet i could not get one idea written. not by hand. nor by keyboard.

sure in my head each and everyone was an award winning kick ass piece. the problem was that the translation was failing. i was unable to take the seed from my brain creating magic in the process. i would sit and stare at the monitor unable to commit to any combination of words that might have a chance of working.

writer's block i can deal with. been there and done that hundreds of times. intimidation though was new. i have enough anxiety in my life without writing, which has been my escape, becoming entangled in my cornucopia of fears.

i figured i had two choices give up writing or fight through this and not be intimidated. i chose the latter. fighting through it means that some of what i post will at least in my eyes be crap. which is where the problem lies my internal editor is the one who is intimidated and rejecting everything. i have no clue at this point what is good and what isn't. therefore i will toss my words onto the blogger breeze and let them fall where they may.

tossing jesus

2006-09-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

each sunday finds the kids in sunday school. their mornings are spent learning about jesus and completing various arts and crafts projects. what a picture frame made from wooden tongue depressers has to do with the bible i have no clue. i have read the book and as far as i can remember noah built an ark not a picture frame for his dad. regardless the kids have learned quite a bit, made new friends and in the process have had lots of fun.

yesterday was rally day at the church. food, games and music a g-rated afternoon appropriate for the entire family.

the food was typical church fare. overcooked hotdogs, chips and enough soda to send the entire children's congregation into overdrive.

the music was mixture of church favorites and good old fashioned sing-a-longs. i am sure as they warbled along the older members of the audience were flashing back to the many hours spent watching lawrence welk.

the games to were of the safe and sane variety. a water balloon toss. a bean bag basket toss. a throw the bean bag through the eyes, nose and mouth of a poorly drawn dragon, at least i think it was a dragon the seven legs kind of threw me off. and of course everyones childhood favorite: the jesus toss.

you remember the jesus toss don't you. everybodies favorite bible school game. you don't, well don't feel bad neither do i.

my first thought, before i remembered that i try not to take life to seriously, was what kind of sick and twisted game is this.

the object of the game was to toss the baby jesus into a wooden crib such as the one found in nativity scenes around the world. you won i baby jesus landed in the crib and i am sure you were going straight to hell when jesus hit the floor. and with the arms on those kids jesus hit the floor a lot.

i kept waiting for someone to overreact and put a stop to the fun and games. much to their credit the church members just laughed it off and let the kid have their fun.

imagine that a church with a sense of humor.

death warmed over with a side of fries

2006-09-02T11:51:00.000-07:00

not a very optomistic sounding title but that is what a weeks worth of pneumonia will do to a person.

body pain and the overwhelming feeling i have that when i am sleeping the entire offensive line for the chiefs is using my chest as a stand in for their blocking dummy. not exactly a prescription for a good nights sleep.

the week included another round of x-rays which rad by rad are bringing me to my ultimate goal of permanently glowing in the dark and therefore eliminating the need for a reading light.

another round of antibiotics killing all of the good bacteria in my gut and allowing my stomach to digest itself.

another week of writer's block as a lack of oxygen to the few functioning brain cells i have left precludes anything resembling creativity from occuring.

on the bright side my mood is good and anxiety has been kept at bay for several weeks now. of course with the pneumonia creating a need for the ingesting of steroids the anxiety free zone may also become a thing of the past.

now where did i leave my xanex......

sound bytes

2006-08-23T18:29:00.000-07:00

in the darkness
it is the silence
i miss most
the evening air
opressive
bearing the weight
of eternal noise
overflowing with
sounds of civilization
engines growl
motors race
sirens howl
mournful trains
car alarms
televisions scream
radios hiss
doorbells ring
echoing
in the canyons
of my world
reminding me
how much
i miss
the silence found
on the road
in the middle
of nowhere

F*Bombs in the Morning

2006-08-18T16:30:00.000-07:00

Morning in San Dimas. The sky is hazy above with just a delicate wisp of brownish-grey smog clinging to the hills. Traffic on the nearby freeway is a symphony of horns honking, brakes grinding, engines purring music to an oil executives ears.

Outside my window the dogs are greeting each other with news of the evening past. The birds are singing in their sarcastic way reminding the cat why he will never catch them. And the complex is alive with the lovely sound of F*Bombs in the morning.

No I have not purchased a sattelite radio subscription.

At least if I had I could turn it off.

It seems my neighbor's son is visiting them from out of state. I do not know all the details and frankly after this mornings tirade I am quite sure that I have no desire to have the blanks filled in for me.

Suffice it to say. Said son is having marital problems. He has an assortment of children two of which are here with grandma and grandpa. The rest are back in Georgia, at least that is what I have heard.

He arrived sometime yesterday. And apparently he failed to realize that there was a three hour time difference between California and the east coast. As he was quite obviously working under the assumption that was 9:00 AM here as well as in Georgia.

The entire neighborhood woke up to the joyous sound of him exchanging four letter expletives with his beloved Mrs. And this was not a whispered conversation between two concerned adults but a conversation conducted at decibles that have been know to cause permanent damage to the ear drums of pets and young children.

Apparently my new (and I pray temporary neighbor) feels that he has been wronged. It was difficult to translate at first but it seems that not only was he using the F*Bombs in anger but also to describe what he felt his wife had been doing with everyone in town. Before you feel any sympathy for him he also in response to her admitted that yes he had been as he put it "forced to use violence" in response to her behavior which resulted in the law deciding that he needed to spend some time in a government run facility.

That was the basic conversation for the better part of a half hour before his father finally decided that he had alienated enough of the neighbors and removed the phone from his ear.

elvis and star wars

2006-08-16T13:00:00.000-07:00

29 years ago today elvis died and i saw star wars for the first time. neither events changed my life to any great degree. i was never a big elvis fan nor do i worship at the altar of star wars. george lucas is not my guru and the force does not rule my life.

on the surface it would seem that other than being two of the big news stories of 1977 that star wars and elvis would have little in common. below the surface there may be more than meets the eye.

elvis defined a generation. once he burst on to the scene neither music nor america were ever the same.

star wars also defined a generation. once the first movie grabbed hold of the culture the movie industry and how america viewed entertainment has never been the same.

in the fifties and the sixties elvis was the true king. he set the standard that few were able to match. by the seventies he had except for brief moments become a parody of what he once was. a bloated ego where once stood a creative genius.

in the seventies and early eighties george lucas was the king of cinema. the star wars triology ruled the roost and the herd of wanna be's who attempted to match his success were mere echoes unable to go where the master had gone. fast forward to the nineties and into the new milineum. like the king lucas's bloated ego left his films little more than a parody of what they once were.

yet despite the egos and lack of later creativity both have a strong legion of followers.

29 years have passed since elvis died yet his memory lives on. his records still sell. graceland is a huge tourist attraction. and untold amounts of impersonators make a living vainly attempting to capture the essence of elvis. performing before seas of spandex a generation trying to recapture a moment in time.

star wars is no different. despite the universal dislike of the second triology the movies went on to make millions. people waited in line for weeks to see the films. books from the basic continuation of the story to ones teaching the force with reliogous furur fly off the shelves. dvd's of various incarnations of the original films including coming soon the original, original without lucas's ego infested edits. the list goes on and on.

the elvis generation and the star wars generation would seem on the surface to have little in common. except for the millions they spend each year trying to return to a time that for them at least in their memories was a time of innoncence.

a piece of home

2006-08-06T11:47:00.000-07:00

with time to kill in indiana we found ourselves in fort wayne. visiting my friend who lived there had been postponed for at least a day. not sure what to do, i turned to the web in hopes of finding something interesting.

turns out that the Allen County Public Library has the second largest genealogy collection in the united states. that was enough to sell me.

upon arrival the one downside of the library became apparent. they were preparing to move into a new building and their temporary quarters while huge was not set up for wi/fi. this put it an immediate damper on my hopes of doing extensive research and entering it immediately into the computer.

other than that the library was a book lovers paradise. four stories worth of books with an entire floor dedicated to geneology.

for cristian there was an entire floor of childrens and teen books with tons of activities. i left him to his fun. and headed to family history heaven.

the entire floor was filled with books, microfiche, newspaper logs and computer terminals the few hours i had would not even make a dent in what was available.

so i did my best to brush the surface.

the brueckner side of the family is the one with the least amount of available data. all i knew was that at one point they came from cinncinati. i went to the ohio section and spent an hour or two looking for information on brueckner's. i found two possible connections through wedding announcements and death notices that bore further research. which will require the ordering of certificates from the state. not much but it was as a start.

without realizing hours had passed and my time was running short. so i decided to do a quick run through the california section.

there i found a treasure. a book published in 1927. History of Monrovia is the early history of my hometown. lots of cool information including the story of the great forest fire of 1924. i had never even heard of the fire. the author though presented the story in a matter of fact yet dramatic presentation. what struck me the most was that just like today the fire was caused by carelessness. a gentleman was walking with his family, paused to light a cigarette and tossed the match to the ground. he continued on his way for ten feet or so and woosh he looked behind him and fire was racing up the hillside.

i only had to travel 2000 miles to find a little piece of home.

4th of july

2006-07-26T12:28:00.000-07:00

the 4th of july presented us with a wide variety of choices.

we could go to philadelphia.

we could visit washington dc.

we could visit boston.

all wildly tempting with their richness in history especially as it relates to the founding of our nation.

the problem lay in my desire to avoid big cities. and in the reality that all of those cities would require multi-day visits to satisfy my history bug.

instead we opted for a more small town, traditional 4th.

and of course not being locals we did the only thing we could. we climbed in the car and drove around.

gettysburg would have been our first choice but lo and behold they held celebration on the 1st while we were galavanting around other parts of the state.

we finally settled on the town of fairfield, pa. with a population of a bit more than 600 souls.

it was the traffic sign that caught our eye. warning drivers of potentially heavy traffic due to the annual 4th of july picnic. how much traffic is a town of 600 going to generate i thought.

the gathering was held in a large park on the outskirts of town.

there were the usual suspects. bbq'd dogs, burgers and sausages. sno-cones. pop and kettle corn. there was a battle of local bands to raise money for breast cancer research.

at one end of the park was a rather large stream. teeming with children doing their best to catch the few bedraggled crayfish who had somehow failed to find adequate hiding places. cristian, as he has been apt to do on this trip, ran over and jumped right in. before long his new friends had taught him the ends and outs of catching crayfish.

i for my part pulled up a chair and spent the afternoon just being.

towards dusk the band battle was replaced by a patriotic song sing-a-long. while not a raging success i enjoyed listening to the large group of mostly seniors stumble their way through the songs. what they lacked in talent they made up for with heart.

the fireworks while not wrapped in the glitziness of some of the bigger displays i have seen were still exceptional.

across the street from the park was a large hill that in the winter passed for the towns ski resort. the fireworks were launched from the top of the hill. which in turn ensured that everyone had a great view of the celebration.

as we walked back to the car i remembered the sign warning of heavy traffic. i was reminded again of the difference between the big city and a small town when the heavy traffic took all of five minutes to negotiate before we hit the open road once more.

the return

2006-07-19T10:09:00.000-07:00

we arrived back in la this evening after a final marathon of close to 42 hours in the car.

rather than camping or motel rooms, i just let cristian sleep while i drove and i took cat naps as needed.

we covered half of iowa, nebraska, wyoming, utah, arizona, nevada and finally once again california.

once we passed salt lake city there were several areas we drove through with active brush fires. so my lungs began to feel it even before we hit a major city.

las vegas was a rude awakening after so much time spent on the backroads of america. the air was so thick with smog i could cut it with a knife. it was even worse than on the drive out. and after so much time spent in uncrowded places the mass of humanity occupying the freeway near drove me out of my skin.

i discovered that i had forgotten how to drive in the big city. politely leaving space between my car and the one in front of me only gave every semi the idea that it was reserved for them and that i would back off. i was being cut off so often that i am surprised that my car was still in one peace.

the final stretch from barstow to la was even worse because the air quality mixed with the humidiy left much to be desired.

being back is taking quite a bit adjustment.

everyone is too loud.

everything moves too fast.

there are too many people.

on the positive side i saw jessica my doctor upon my return and thirty seven days off of the paxeva contributed to a net weight loss of 18 pounds. i feel so much better without the meds. and i will move from this place before i return to them. if i can be anxiety free somewhere else than that is where i need to be.

on the negative side there was not as much improvement in my lungs as i had hoped. breathing was easier obviously away from the bad air but when she listened to my lungs they were still constricted and wheezy. so my inhaler and i must remain tight for now.

of course there are many tales from the road still to share and they will find there way into these pages sooner or later.

34 and counting down

2006-07-16T06:47:00.000-07:00

this morning begins day 34 of the 7 day road trip.

34 days........

i never expected or planned to be gone this long.

there have been many adventures both excellent and disapointing.

i have changed in ways i never imagined nor expected.

i have been inspired by some people i have met and left in fear for the future of the human race by others.

i have come to realize that what may good for others is not good for me. come hell or high water i have to leave los angeles for both my health and my sanity.

and cristian, cristian has changed more than i thought possible in such a short period of time. he has become more of a 13 year old. which as any parent knows can be a good thing and a bad thing. in my eyes it is all good because he appears to be enjoying life for the first time in a long, long time.

today is day 34 and we are only 3 to 4 days away from returning to la.

from returning to bad air made worse by raging brush fires less than 30 miles from my home.

from returning to all the stresses and issues that have contributed to my anxiety and panic disorder.

from returning to overpriced homes and over crowded freeways.

yet though as recently as a few days ago i dreaded this moment, i know now that i am ready. i refuse to take steps back. returning to medication and half living.

i know it will be hard but i also know that surrender is not an option. that i am stronger than i realize and that i will get my butt out of hell before the devil even knows i am there.

piece's of eight

2006-07-12T11:59:00.000-07:00

in los angeles one is rarely exposed to the kindness of strangers.

a kind word is a myth.

a kind gesture seldom seen.

sharing amongst strangers is limited for the most part to four letter words and one finger gestures.

while rudeness can be found anywhere, i find that living in la has left me jaded and expecting the worst from people.

as often happens though when you come to expect the worst a stranger will remind you that kindness does exist still in this world.

we are in garrett, indiana at the moment. our plans for the area fell through and we found ourselves with extra time on our hands.

i am not a big movie theater person but cristian was dying to see pirates so to kill some time and surprise the kid we went to the movies.

in la two tickets for a movie will run you eight dollars a piece for a matinee and ten or more for an evening show. here in indiana it was ten total for the two of us.

than the problem arose. they were having problems with my debit card. after several tries i took my card back intending to head for the nearest atm which as luck would have it was down the street inside of the wal-mart. we hit the parking lot and the skies opened up. between the rain and the time i knew we would miss the beginning of the movie if we tried for the atm. as it was the last showing of the night we scrounged all of the change we could from the car and hoped that it was enough.

by the time we reentered the lobby we were soaked to the bone. cristian had all the ones and coins clutched between his dripping fingers. the kid at the box office helped him count it out and when it was all said and done we were a dollar short.

i figured we would have to run to wal-mart and miss the first few minutes of the movie. that was before the kid selling us the ticket reached into his own wallet and pulled out a dollar bill making up the difference. all he said when we thanked him was that he would hate for us to miss the beginning of the movie.

i did not get his name.

i do know that through his unsolicited gesture he made my son's night and restored a bit of my faith in the human race.

etiquette of the road

2006-07-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

having spent the better part of the month on the road i have have had the misfortune to see some of america at its worst. not the towns or cities per se, though they have done their part, i am refering more to the individual citizens of our fair land.

eating lunch is not the place one wants to discover their fellow humans fascination for what they can pull out of their noses. it is bad enough, looking up from my sandwich to the site of a middle aged biker chick with her index finger buried knuckle deep in her nostril than to be exposed to her inspecting her discovery before she wipes it in on her significent other's vest. needless to say my burger lost its attraction after witnessing that scene.

then there was another biker who was staying at our campground in gettysburg. he was friendly enough. sat down where i was vainly attempting to get the wifi connection to last for more than ten minutes.

he chatted away and did not seem to require the occaisonal grunt so i he was not really bothering me. that was until he pulled out his canister of chewing tobacco. to each his own i thought and continued minding my own business. that was until he decided that the gravel at my feet was the best place for a natural spittoon and he started leaving nasty brown blobs around my feet.

come on people. i know our society is not one built upon the etiquette of other era's. we live in a kind of live and let live world. that does not mean though that we should just ignore the basics.

is it too much to ask for you to keep your knuckles out of your nose and your tobacco juice away from my feet.

please.........

yes, we have monuments and tshirts and keychains and .....

2006-07-08T12:23:00.000-07:00

gettysburg is the good, the bad and the commercial of tourism all wrapped up into one gaudy package.

we began our extended tour on the 21st with a visit to downtown gettysburg. not surprisingly my first impression was of how disneyesque the area was. pristine building after pristine building. employee's dressed in period costumes. every store selling the same knick knacks from the same overseas sweatshop. just what you would expect from a "tourist destination".

some of the "junk" was more unique than others. many stores have various debris collected from the battlefield. pieces of cannonball's, grapeshot fragments, old bullets. boxes and boxes of the stuff. and all well overpriced.

instead of cartoon characters like mickey and donald the t-shirts all feature your favorite civil war general. anyone from lee to lincoln can be found.

further away from downtown near the national cemetary is where the tackiness is displayed proudly. circa 1890's houses have now become bastions of the bad tshirt and dull postcard. the fronts of most are haunted by the purveyors of gettysburg ghost tours. as featured on a&e or the history channel or the discovery channel or the local channel. every tour has been featured on some channel or another. it may have even reached the point where the tours outnumber the ghosts because i am sure that most of them have left the area in search of peace and quiet.

the big debate in the area is the possible development of a casino complex. the no's seem to carry a lot of weight with their concerns that a casino would take away from the history of the area. preserving historical areas is very important so there are places where future generation can go to learn. yet when the entire area is already commercialized what is left to be preserved.

it is rather ironic that the confederate army moved into the gettysburg area because of a rumor that they would be able to find much needed clothing and supplies. instead they found the turning point of the war and the beginning of the end for the confederacy. if they had only waited one hundred and forty years they would have been able to shop to their hearts content.

what the wifi

2006-07-04T20:46:00.000-07:00

contrary to rumor we did not drive into the atlantic ocean. nor were we washed away in any of the recent storms that hit the east coast. we are alive and well i only wish i could say the same for the wifi connection.

blogging from the road becomes neigh on impossible when the wifi connection fails to cooperate.

for the past week or so the connection has been hit or miss at best. the campground we were staying at promised free wifi. it was free but despite the claim that my connection was good to very good i was barely able to check my email on a regular basis.

our new location though seems to have a much more consistent connection. if all goes according to plan i should be updating again in no time.

rain the newest four letter word!

2006-06-28T09:48:00.000-07:00

we have been in gettysburg since the 20th. what was going to be a two day visit became much more when cristian discovered that the 4th of july weekend would be dominated by reenactments of the famous battle. intrigued myself we chose to hang out and see the sites.

of course there are many tales to share but for this post i am fast fowarding to the present.

since sunday there has been wave after wave of storm. thunder filled skies. campground illuminated by bolts of lightning. followed by the flood gates of heaven opening upon the earth.

i know i began this journey in awe of nature's powere. thrilled to be experiencing real weather for the first time.

i guess there really can be too much of a good thing. in the future when i make a request of god i believe i will be a tad more specific.

car camping presents its own challenges in stormy weather. minor things like keeping dry and preventing gear and car alike being overpowered by dank boy smell.

these minor concerns eventually became more major concerns last night when the entire county of adams was under flashflood alerts.

what had once been an oasis of calm was awash in flood waters. the playground where cristian and his buddies hung out became a raging river. small nearby cabins lay in seige surrounded by a ton of sand.

lightning bolts, immediately followed by explosions of thunder centered right above the camp.

trees back in the darkness crashed to the ground roots unable to find security in the suddenly liquified ground.

fortunately other than minor flood damage the camp made it through the night.

this morning cristian and i awoke to sunshine and birds singing.

the real downside to all of this rain is that the reenactments scheduled for this weekend have been postponed until the 7th.

so once again we are faced by a choice. give up and miss the reenactments or hang for another week and see it all.

i know what the old darrell would have done. worried himself to death and headed back not ready to step into the unknown.

the new darrell though, the new darrell along with cristian have decided to move down the road a bit for a few days to college park, maryland. there is a campsite within walking distance of public transportation and we are going to the nations capitol. in fact at this point we are debating where to spend the 4th. washington d.c., philadelphia or someplace we have yet to thinkg of .

east or west?

2006-06-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

monday june 19th:

at some point during our iowa escape cristian and i began discussing our trip home. originally our plan was to be gone three maybe four days and here we were on the eve of week two.

cristian broke out the mapbook and after a few moments said dad, you know we are really not that far from gettysburg.

how far was far in his mind only about a thousand miles.

the look on his face told me all i needed to know we were going to gettysburg.

back in california he has done civil war reenactments and has well over thirty books on the subject. visiting gettysburg was something he had dreamt about but thought he would not get to do until he was an adult.

what the hell i thought.

sure cristian we can go to gettysburg.

don't joke around dad that's not funny.

i'm not joking if you want to go to gettysburg we will head for points east on the map.

by this point he was bouncing off the dq wall in disbelief.

life has not always been easy for him. with the pressure his mom has him under. with my illnesses. no life has not been easy.

i may not be able to give him the world but at least i can give him gettysburg.

is this heaven?

2006-06-26T16:56:00.000-07:00

monday june 19th:

my only previous knowledge of iowa came from the movie field of dreams, which has a lot of meaning for me. like kevin costner's character in the movie the only connection i ever really had with my biological father was the game of baseball. what little relationship we had was going to a one or two dodger games a year. in fact the last time we did something together we flew to dodger/padre game in san diego. the game was fun but my father neglected to inform my mom so like most things he attempted it blew up in his face.

even though iowa was not on the agenda i was tempted to visit. add an invitation from amanda to see how the other side lived and how could i say no.

driving away from sioux city after the storm i knew i was not in california anymore. wide open space in every direction. dotted by a farm here a silo there and every once in a great while a small, small town.

after life in overcrowded los angeles this was heaven.

the air was crisp and clear.

the only noise was the tires on the highway.

no sirens, no screaming, no horns honking.

and a sky that went on forever and a day.

i could grow to like it here, i thought to myself.

after checking into our motel we were to meet up with amanda at the local park.

we arrived first and i knew immediately i was in heaven.

it was not the air, the blue sky, the wide open spaces, no it was a.............merry-go-round.

an honest to god merry-go-round. kid powered. all steel. and the most fun i ever had as a kid.

in california you see merry-go-rounds have been legislated right off the playgrounds. someone decided they were too dangerous. it had been years since i seen one.

this was never clearer than when cristian asked me what it was i was so excited about.

the state had so overprotected my son that he did not even know what he was missing.

i ran straight for the merry-go-round. got a good spin going and leapt on for the ride. the world was spinning out of control and i was in seventh heaven.

i am sure i made a hell of a first impression when amanda showed up with nathan only to find me spinning out of control and laughing like a kid at christmas.

the rest of the visit was made up of similar moments.

watching softball in the park: just being.

observing what appeared to be a million butterflies flutter through the pavillion at idaho state university: just being.
(i know we were in iowa as amanda just so politely pointed out. in my defense we have made so many iowa/idaho cracks that mr. freud snuck by my editor.)

wandering the gardens admiring the creativity of the designers: just being.

laying in the grass seeing more stars in one night than i had in the previous ten year in los angeles: just being.

losing myself in fields filled with fireflies. outshing any light show i ever saw in hollywood.: just being.

watching the kids bond, run, jump, swim and just enjoy themselves. something cristian rarely gets to do back at home.: just being.

in the end that was what was iowa was for me a place of just being, rediscovering the simple things in life.

is iowa heaven......who knows......but for four days it might have been.

a brief intermission

2006-06-23T21:38:00.000-07:00

what originally began has a short jaunt through the nevada, utah and colorado triangle has become something far more surprising and life changing. i may be behind the wheel but i am no longer driving the car.

day 12 is looming and i still have no clue as to when i am returning to california or for how long.

a lark of a journey has turned into a journey of reself discovery.

i believe i knew this darrell many years ago. before life had worn down his pride. before compromise had led him into a dungeon of darkness built by his own two hands. before he had become but one of the walking dead, alive but not really living. before anxiety, ill health and so very many other issues had ground out his spark for life.

when did i decide enough was enough i am not sure i could pinpoint a date.

i do know that my psychologist jackie has been planting the seeds of change in barren ground for going on four years with no results. she has put up with a lot of wallowing and whining from me i hope she likes the results.

i do know that carrie over at echomouse and karen at ksquest, have taught me how to face life's difficulties with class and dignity. to accept the good and the bad with head held high and to never give up the fight.

i do know that sue over at torn pages has taught me through her deeply personal posts and her friendship that there is light and hope at the end of the tunnel. that i will get through the rough spots, that i deserve to be happy and that i will be a better person for it when i emerge on the other side.

two weeks ago i began this journey on a whim. at that time i made some decision's that did not make it into the earlier posts.

on tuesday when i left california i stopped taking my anxiety meds. period. end of story. no tapering off. no discussion with my doctors. i decided i wanted to see life through undrugged eyes for once.

i also stopped using my inhaler's while i have them with me i again wanted to see how i felt without any meds.

i have been told by so many doctor's that while i may not be cured, the elimination of stress and los angeles air would go a long way towards improving my quality of life.

now this may sound well thought out and planned. it was not. just like this trip i had no idea what i was doing until i did it.

i am going on 12 days without anxiety meds. in that time i have no experienced a single panic attack. while i did experience some of the expected chemical reactions to flushing the meds from my body i have survived.

it has taken some getting used to though. i have forgotten what real emotions felt like. the every day joys of a summer storm. the tears that may well up just because i need to cry. the laughter out of nowhere that is just the joy to be alive erupting from within.

while my breathing is not perfect my lungs are doing much better without los angeles air. little or no coughing, little or no wheezing, just basic pulmonary function. maybe the doctor's are right and all my problems are stress related

which brings me to the point i must have been heading all along with this post. thanking the person whose friendship, understanding and unconditional support unlocked the vault where my courage was hiding giving me the strength to face the road.

before january i only really knew of her existense through her mother's blog torn pages.

once amanda began her own blog at curious are we. we exchanged a few comments. nothing earth shattering. nothing mind blowing. nothing life changing. the usual mix of blogging comments.

sparky(my nickname for her it fits) and her mother were both playing world of warcraft. they seemed to be having so much fun I decided I would give it a try. The game is okay but it is the people you play with that make it worthwhile.

has time has progressed amanda and i have developed a real world friendship through blogging, world of warcraft, email and eventually phone calls.

in a remarkably short time she has become one of those friends we often dream about having but rarely find. she listens. she advises. she supports. she gives of herself unselfishly and without conditions.

through her friendship i have rediscovered what it means to be a friend and what it means to live rather than watch life from the sidelines. i have learned that it is much more fun to be off the bench and living than on the bench reading about living.

as my road trip progressed amanda invited cristian and i to iowa. where we met her, her son nathan (a credit to his mom) her husband greg and of course her mother sue. we spent four days in iowa visiting and sue had us out to her place for a bbq, where we all talked for hours, while the boys chased fireflies across the field.

thank you sue for the grub, hospitality, your friendship and for welcoming cristian and i into your home.

thank you amanda for being your sparky self and the most amazing friend i could have ever hoped to find.

the chorus from a recent garth brooks song describes her friendship perfectly.

Sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all
She's got my back
Even when it's against the wall
When I need a friend
She's the guy I call
'Cause sometimes the best cowboys
Ain't cowboys at all

so that is the long and the short of where i am at the moment.

the chorus of a recent gary allan song says in part "life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride." in many ways my life has not been beautiful in recent years. yet i would not change a thing. it took the struggles of the journey for me to appreciate where i am today.

god love's me, he really love's me

2006-06-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

as we drove across nebraska i was content listening to cristian breath, watching the electrical activity in the distance and feeling the breeze of the road rush through the open window.

four days prior i could not have imagined being here on the plains in the middle of the night. losing myself in the music of life. but life is funny that way and sometimes you are surprised when you least expect it.

as the hours passed the storms seem to fade beyond the horizon. i was content in the moment, seeing and enjoying the weather.

we approached the nebraska border with cristian mumbling in his sleep. thought he was having a bad dream but he was just changing position. i mussed his hair to annoy him and turned back to the road in time to catch a brilliant flash of light off to the east.

our destination for the evening or should i say morning was a campground just outside sioux city, iowa. the lightening appeared to be in that direction but i was not about to get my hopes up.

crossing into iowa and heading northeast the storm was suddenly in front of us. the road appeared to have split the front in two and lightning battled earth on both sides of the highway.

all i could think was wow. i had seen lightning on national geographic or discover that was this brilliant. but never ever in person. the closer we drew to the campground the brighter the sky became. thunderbolts of the god's dancing to the primordial rhythm of old.

i am sure that my jaw was in my lap.

i was a kid in a candy store.

a six year old seeing disneyland for the first time.

a teen ager experiencing his first kiss.

a man losing himself in the eternal beauty of his eternal love for the first time.

it was all of this and so much more.

and yet words do not do justice for what was still to come.

we pulled into the campground early in the AM. i found a spot with a clear view expecting a continuation of what had guided us here.

god though, god had other ideas.

he was probably sick and tired of hearing me whine for decades about the lack of weather in california. so he looked down at me, chuckled and said you want weather boy....i got your weather right here.

within seconds of parking the sky exploded with all of natures fury.

not just in front of us. not just behind us. everywhere.

the electrical activity surrounded my car. immersing us in a surround sound experience that technology could never duplicate.

i was speechless.

i was raw.

it was as if the hand of god was reaching into my soul and turning my world inside out.

i asked for a storm and god as he often does went above and beyond giving me back my life...........

wacky wednesday wanderings

2006-06-14T20:29:00.000-07:00

passing through denver was far, far from the end of our wednesday wanderings. our goal was the colorado/nebraska border and the town of gothenburg. the koa guide proudly proclaimed that we would be treated to a taste of british hospitality on the western edge of the nebraska frontier.

the flatlands of colorado were rather dull and uneventful after the thrills and chills of the new age age clone atecture dominating the beauty of god's mountains. mile after mile of rather mundane scenery. a landscape dominated by the sites and smells of cattle feeding on the prairie grass providing the once sweet air with a brand new perfume.

8:00 p.m. arrived with the weather promising electrical storm activity along the nebraska border. which of course just happened to be our evening destination.

anxious anticipation did not begin to describe the sense of adventure i was feeling at the moment. in my spare time i am a weather junky which does not mix well with living in california as there are only two types of weather. clear or wet. sure every once in a great while mother nature tossed a rather dull electrical storm my way or a good windstorm for my entertainment. in reality the only way to be a weather freak in california was to get my fix from national geographic or the discovery channel.

this would be my first opportunity to experience weather, real weather that my friends in the prairie states had promised was a normal occurance this time of year.

of course with every cloud comes not only a silver lining but a change of plans. our intended campground appeared to be directly in the storms path and a tent beneath a tree did not seem to be the safest of choices for riding out the electrical outbursts.

we had been on the road since 2:00 p.m. so a good six hours of driving had been completed.

with the anticipation of storm activity i chose to continue driving rather than pay at this point for a motel room. checking the map i made the rather ambitious decision to cover the entire state of nebraska in one night and arrive at our thursday campground early in the a.m.

best laid plans of mice and men have a way of changing right before our eyes. little did i know what the morning had in store for us.

clones, moss face and john denver's ghost

2006-06-14T05:49:00.000-07:00

day two found us waking up in a koa campground somewhere on the outskirts of grand junction, colorado. well maintained and peaceful the campground was a perfect distraction before the next driving leg began. over seven hundred miles had left me a bit road weary but more than willing to face what the day had to offer.

we backtracked about eleven miles to the small town of fruita, colorado home to the world famous mike the headless chicken. we payed homage to the statue of mike and began a fruitless search for mike tshirts. for a town that has built a thriving tourism business on the back of dinosaurs and headless chickens the whole missing tshirt adventure was about the only disapointment of the trip so far. i know tshirts can be ordered from the website but i had my heart set on an in town purchase.

next we visited the dinosaur museum on the edge of town. rather small but a surprising about of information on the entire species.

one thing that has surprised me so far is that in california there seems to be a mcdonalds on every other corner. for whatever reason in utah and now colorado there appears to be a wendy's in every one horse town while mcdonalds are not quite as frequent.

after lunch we began the long drive through the rocky mountains. the landscape had a certain beauty that was lost in the over development of everything. snow still clung to the upper elevations refusing to give up the last vestiges of existance.

we eventually came across the first of many mountain crawl traffic jams. turning a three lane road into a quagmire with anxious drivers cutting right and left. as we approached the sign man directing traffic i had to do a double talk as he appeared to have some form of scraggly moss clinging to his chin. some mean have beardable faces this man was just moss faced soul out of place. i should have takend his appearance has a fortelling of the rest of the day but as usual i ignored the clues.

it was just after passing moss face that i had my first clue that these were no longer john denver's rockies. each new town that has been built with the same clone planning that has gripped america for years. i expect it in la but not the rockies. town after town dominated by the urban clone villages.

the more we drove the more cloned villages we saw and the more angst was building from within.

i did however relish the joy of passing through huge tunnels blasted through the mountain face that appeared to stretch on and on for miles.

as we had suffered through many miles of the clone a techture. we chose to reward ourselves by ignoring denver and moving on.

smog, wind and the long arm of the utah law

2006-06-13T13:56:00.000-07:00

day one of the trip is behind us. leaving la behind me and heading off into the unknow woke up emotions and feeling that i have not experienced for many years. freedom, untethered joy and the wonder of the great unknown.

driving out of the desert and into vegas almost ruined the first day for me. my son being to young to remember the vegas of the seventies had no clue. and my most recent visits had come from the hoover damn side and i was not driving so there was a lot i missed. following rte 15 i came to realize how much a city which was never great in the first place had been over commercialized, overbuilt and overpopulated.

the traffic sucked.

the over crowding sucked.

and the air sucked worst of all. in la. my eyes watered. my throat burned and i wondered aloud to my son who in their right mind would want to live here. a nasty, nasty place. of course i will visit again for a day here and there. all that money has created art exhibits that never make it to la.

after crossing the nevada we began a long, long stretch of desert. i am not a desert person but my son the future paleontologist/geologist was in his element. rock formation of every size, shape and color dominated the horizon. cliff faces with colorful geologic era's stratus reflecting the sunlight.

of course my imagination is a bit more vivid than my sons and some what i saw embarrassed him to no end. at least he pretended to be but he did not hide his amusement very well.

soon we came upon one of those famous desert sand storms which quickly reduced the visibility to less than one hundred yards.

it was at this point that one of utah's finest saw fit to flash his lights and pull me over. i was beyond clueless i had no idea why i was being pulled over.

seatbelts on, check.

lights on in sandstorm, check.

registration current, check.

suffice it to say that i was beyond shocked when he informed me that i was clocked at 99mph.

i glanced at the sandstorm rocking my car, the lack of visibility and brown glow of my headlights and thought to myself what the hell is this guy thinking.

outloud i said officer if i was clocked at 99mph than there is something wrong with my speedometer.

the speed limit on the highway was 75mph and i doubt i was making that. he just shook his head and asked for my liscence and registration.

even my son was aghast. dad there was no way you were doing 99mph he is crazy.

of course the fact that i was driving a '95 dodge neon should have given the officer of a clue. i doubt there is a stock neon around doing 99mph on the open highway. just the weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (thanks to sparky for the high tech special effects)sound of a little engine straining to keep up with the big guys.

the long arm of the utah law soon returned with my ticket to sign. it seems that the money they are making off speeders was put to use for in car printers and computers as the ticket was computer generated.

once we were sent on our way cristian observed that the only reason we were chosen from the masses was because of our california plates. smart kid if i do say so myself.

we ended the day at a koa campground in grand junction colorado. after driving over seven hundred miles i should have been exhausted and fallen immediately into a deep sleep. instead i lay beneath the infinite sky wondering where this seemingly new darrell had come from. footloose and stress free on the nations and hiways and biways.

On the Road

2006-06-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

When I was a child my grandfather used to watch a travel show on one of the local channels. It was a husband and wife driving around the country in their R.V. They would share there adventures with the viewing audience. In the days before satellite, cable and a zillion channels this was interesting stuff. Bringing the back roads of the country into our living rooms.

Tomorrow I am setting out on my own happy wanderer road trip. Just my 13 year old son and I for a minimum of ten days. Not sure of all my destinations. Though I do have a few in mind. I could give them away here but that would take the fun out of blogging from the road.

Mayo on Rye (yuck)

2006-06-11T19:57:00.000-07:00

Mayo you were good to me or so I thought no I know that my health cannot be bought.

It seems the Dr. Golf (he always looked ready for tee time)was not the doctor I believed him to be. I received his report in the mail this past week and there were a few items he neglected to disclose.

He also gave less credence to my asthma/chronic bronchitis in his written report than in person. In writing he focused more on anxiety and stress as my primary health issue.

1 - My cholesterol was above 240. Not the end of the world but something we should have discussed. My heart is in good shape and I do not want to mess with high cholesterol. Jessic gave me a prescription for one of the standard meds.

2. My white blood cell count continues at a high level. I was feeling rather well in Arizona yet my count was 15. It has been high for a bit and we have been monitoring it. Dr. Golf should have mentioned it though. If the count hits the 20's it could be a sign of leukemia.

3. My diaphragm on the right side is displaced and pushing into the lower lobe of my right lung. This can effect how the lung functions and could be keeping the lung from expanding. This is usually caused by a weakened muscle at birth and can be repaired surgically.

4. I have a small fibrosis infiltration of the lower right lung. Not serious yet but could lead to pulmonary fibrosis or something similar. Two of the primary symptoms are shortness of breath when exercising and a general feeling of unwellness.

A bit more to worry about on the health menu but not the end of the world. I just hope Jessica never stops practicing medicine because if she did I would not know who to trust.

Send in the Clowns

2006-06-06T22:21:00.000-07:00

My apologies to one and all for the mini drama of yesterday's post.

I did what I have never really done before and posted something mid anxiety attack. No editing, no thinking just a quick mental dump.

In rereading it this morning I realized that what I wrote was easy to interpet one hundred and one different ways.

No one died.

No one is sick.

No tragedy of any kind occured.

Sometimes a week at my mom's is like a week in some fictional world. Problems slip away and anxiety takes a back seat for a few days. Than something happens to bring me back to reality. And boom anxiety attack city.

At this point the anxiety has subsided. I drove back from mom's today. And was greeted by something that used to be air but now resembles something from a low grade godzilla knockoff.

I will do my best to keep anxiety attacks from bleeding into Murmur's.

Now will someone please send in the clowns.

2006-06-05T22:42:00.000-07:00

out of the clear blue sky
a hand reaches down
and slaps the smile
right off my face

Shhhhhhhhhhh

2006-06-02T10:22:00.000-07:00

11o degree temps do not lend themselves to creative postings. i have been at my mom's in bullhead since tuesday and creativity seems to have melted in the heat.

i was hoping that a week out of the smog pool would make a marked difference in my breathing but so far i have failed to notice any change.

of course the primary reason for my exodus to arizona is spending time with mom. other than pain and sleepiness she appears to be doing well all things considered. her appetite is good and her spirits are high.

all things considered a good week.

In Memoriam

2006-05-29T13:29:00.001-07:00

Darrell Wayne Brueckner
Darrell Samual Brueckner
Dolores Finn Brueckner
Grandma Finn
Jay Ray Hunter
Scott Hunter
Peggy Hunter
Tommy Hunter
Arthur Herman Pankopf
Elda Virginia Spelta Pankopf
Maude Pankopf
Waldo Spelta
Pearl Spelta
Eligio Spelta
Julie Spelta
Bobby Spelta
Vera Spelta
Adrianna Spelta
Mary Spelta Denton
Harold Denton
Maria Scribanti Spelta
William Boardman
Keith and Norma
Norm Banns
Don "Moose"
David Smith
Jim "Hawk" Organ
Lee Tisdale
Barbara Moss
Peter Becker

The loved ones of all who pass through this page.

And of course all of the service men and women who have given their lives in the service of their country.

late night thoughts......

2006-05-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

things i miss:

my grandmother's snoring. she could vibrate the paint off a battleship with her snores but they were comforting in their own way.

the scent of camel's on my grandfather's clothes. not very politically correct to miss the scent of what probably killed him. yet i cannot think of the man without the remembering how his clothes smelled.

the smell of open liquer bottles behind the bar at the elk's lodge. the only time i ever really spent with my stepfather was helping him bartend various events. could not stand the taste of the contents but the smell of an open bottle still reminds me of him.

waking up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. not a coffee drinker myself. if i need a caffine fix it comes from a soda bottle. yet whenever i am visiting my mom i wake up to the smell of her fresh brewed coffee.

and finally, the scent of strawberry perfume on an 18 year old hostess i crushed on too many years ago to count. obviously my tastes in fragrances over the years have changed yet the smell of fresh strawberries brings me back to the cask and cleaver and a hostess two years older than me to whom i could barely stammer out a hello.

mayo on rye

2006-05-21T18:32:00.000-07:00

life in scottsdale was full of adventure and new experiences.

you have not lived until a balding, chunky, sweaty, twenty-something man shaves your chest. that being said it beat having the hair ripped out by ekg tabs taped to the skin.

i am sure that somewhere near half the population would be thrilled if a succesful doctor gestured to them and said come have a seat next to my desk big boy. in my case he was the wrong sex and type.

watched a condo tower being built beside a concrete canal with the selling point being billed as waterfront property. the canal is about thirty feet across at best. shockingly at least to me each unit was selling for a million plus and they were almost all sold.

ordering a cheeseburger from a usually reliable diner and finding much to my surprise that their idea of a cheeseburger was cold cheese added along with the other condiments.

with all of the above excitemet it is a wonder that i actually found time to visit the mayo and go through the testing process.

i was poked and prodded by the best of them. bloodwork, pulmonary function test, cardiac stress test, ct scans of the sinuses and lungs, exploration of the nasal cavities and ear canals by a doctor actually wearing one of those silver discs on his forehead.

ten days and who know's how many thousands of dollars later this is what i know.

my heart is healthy, no blockage etc so no immediate risk of heart attack.

sinuses and ear canal's are good.

oxygen levels low normal but overall not horribly bad.

lungs clear of any horrible disease.

diagnosis: asthma and chronic bronchitis aggrevated by severe anxiety and stress.

solution: reduce stress and move someplace with cleaner air.

surgery would have been easier.

speaking of which. when i returned home i was having a great deal of abdominal pain. after another visit to the doctor i was informed that i have developed a ventral hernia which requires surgery. it is 10 cm long by 3 cm wide. the cause of such hernias chronic coughs.

at least it will give me something else to blog about.

Vacant Throne

2006-05-08T23:26:00.000-07:00

Life has been busy here in the land of the throne.

Running around to the various doctors, hospitals and testing facilities that I have visited since April of 2003. Collecting records, x-rays, phone numbers all required for a visit to the Mayo Clinic.

I also made a run to Palmdale which is northwest of Los Angeles to exchange cars with my brother. My beloved 1977 Blue Cadillac Coup de Ville is now in his garage where he can do what I was never able and that is restore it to its original glory. He has other cars so the blue bomber can receive all the tlc it deserves.

In return I drove off in his 1995 Neon. Value wise I got the best part of the deal. Family history and sentiment wise he got the best end of the deal.

It became necessary though when I calculated that just driving to Scottsdale and back would cost almost two hundred dollars. Leaving me to choose between a roof over my head or a meal in my stomach while going through all of the testing. This way I don't have to choose I can have cracker's and a bed.

I leave in the morning and the throne will be vacant for a minimum of five days maybe longer if I run into extended testing or treatment.

If I am lucky when I return I will have found some answers to the health issues that have been dogging me for so long.

fishing

2006-05-04T23:34:00.000-07:00

sometimes i feel as if i am a fish out of water. i watch the world around me rushing around filled with self important ideas to explain their frenzy. never stopping to smell a rose. never stooping to put their hands in the soil and feel the earth. more interested in strip malls, shopping malls, movie theaters, traffic jams. anything the steps between self and communication with another human being. what twist of fate landed me in a land where i feel more and more out of step. where isolation has become second nature. where a sunset is just a divider between night and day. hurry up and go here. hurry up and go there. never stop. never contemplate. be careful you might discover another human with real ideas. someone that will actually understand you for who you are.

lake no more

2006-05-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

random formations of
migrating geese
circled the lake
honking in tune
to a song
only the geese
could here
attempting to communicate
their story
their history
of the generations
born and reared
on the shores
of a lake
no longer home
mud flats
catfish bones
crows searching for
forgotten tidbits
of flesh
the geese sing
of sadness
of the loss of their home
of the future
that may not be

mia

2006-05-02T23:12:00.000-07:00

i have not been posting as often as i would like.

prepping for my trip to the mayo clinic. which will lead to more days without blogging as i will not have computer access while in Arizona. dealing with doctor's here. being tortured by a sadistic chiropractor have all eaten into my days.

plus my muse seems to have gone mia herself. many times i have sat before the computer or a blank piece of paper. seed of an idea caught up in a whirlwind with my mind. yet nothing falls to the paper. the storm disipates. thunder and lightening passes me by.

maybe i am preoccupied with the tests and all. this to will pass i am sure. if not i am going to have to find me a new muse who keeps better hours.

It's a Boy.......

2006-04-26T23:23:00.000-07:00

or a girl, or maybe some new and rather bizarre life form left behind by my alien abducters.

At least that was what I kept telling myself as I lay on the table while the tech rubbed warm, greasy gel around my abdomen.

My doctor ordered an ultrasound in order to investigate recent and past ailments. Primarly localized pain on my right side that could be gallstones or possibly something related to the liver. Since I was having the test anyway she decided to take advantage of the opportunity and look at my left kidney.

Intellectually I understood that an ultrasound was a diagnostic tool used to detect all forms of illness. Emotionally though I was having a difficult time seeing it as anything other than a baby detection tool.

Silly I know. But if they do discover a new life form in there I am going to name it George and I am going to hold him and squeeze him......

PoP

2006-04-24T22:52:00.000-07:00

POP! POP! POP!!!!!!!!!

At the sound of the pop I attempted to throw myself to the floor in my best effort to avoid the obvious gunfire. This proved to be impossible as I was gently, but firmly being held to the table.

I turned to my chiropractor and in all seriousness asked her if there was a military installation near by or had that explosive sound come from within me.

She laughed assuring me that while rather loud the sound had come from within and that there was nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about she says. In all the years I have walked this planet I had never heard such loud and potentially damaging noises coming from my own body.

The last month or so the pain in my back, hips, neck and shoulders had me dreaming of large bottles of pain relievers. Alas, due to some of my other ailments it was best for me to avoid downing handfuls of the stuff.

Having had more than my fill of mainstream medicine I decided that for the first time in my life I would pay the chiropractor a visit.

I approached the appointment with an open mind but almost cut and ran before I even saw the doctor. After completing the usual multitudes of forms the receptionist informed me that I was required to watch an introductry video.

The film confirmed all of the stereotypical information floating around about the chiropractic practices. The spokespeople on the video talked about the miracle cures that awaited anyone who visited a chiropractor. Everything from high blood pressure to respitory ailments could be chased away with a few timely pops of the spine.

Tempted though I was to leave I chose to stick it out and see what would happen.

The chiropractor I was seeing turned out to be a bit more grounded than the one in the video. While making no promises she said that with chiropractic treatment the overall health of the body could improve.

She went through a series of measurements and proceeded to explain where she thought my pain was originating. A tweaked neck. Hips out of alignment. And shoulders that were not sitting in a proper position.

She than proceeded to pop and twist me like a pretzel. Some positions more painful than others. This was followed up by twenty minutes on a heated table with a huge roller that ran up and down my back.

Four days since my appointment and I am not sure that I feel any better. Still I will return Friday for a follow up, even if it is only to nap on the roller table for another twenty minutes.

storm

2006-04-19T23:06:00.000-07:00

i found myself in the living room
of a house i have never known
a fireplace, a grandfather clock
a few photos fade to black
i am drawn to one window
which covers half a wall
there is a love seat
and two end tables
facing a view i cannot see
i am drawn to the window
and settle down with a sigh
it is than that i realize
that something isn't right
the night explodes with silence
in the house a sense of peace
within me there is no tension
anxiety but a dream
i sense someone sit next to me
without words or games
a hand offers a champagne glass
filled with my favorite cola
i wonder who could know me so well
yet i never sneak a peak
because the evening sky
is filled with light
thunder echoes across the land
the wind picks up
and whips the trees
into a frenzy of trembling leaves
hail the size of golf balls
and rain from a thousand lakes
it is a storm i have always dreamt of
a house surrounded by lightening
thunder and howling wind
for hours it seems or maybe days
rain collides with earth
electricity dances across the plains
to a rhythm only thunder can play
i fall asleep with a gently sigh
unable to recall such peace
i wish it could last forever
yet i know it is just a dream..........

shadow

2006-04-18T23:04:00.000-07:00

his shadow has aged
reflecting the years he has trod this earth
edges frayed
his shadow seems to rise from the earth
caught in the fingers
of a mild summer breeze
though his shadow has never loved
there is but darkness
where its heart should be
though his shadow has never cried a tear
moisture appears to seep
from eyes that have never seen
though his shadow has never walked
it trembles from the effort
of a midday walk
his shadow has lived a lifetime
of could of beens
should of beens and might of beens
his shadow bears the burden
of dreams long forgotten
promises built upon fields of sand
his shadow grows tired
losing substance
in the fading light
his shadow slips into the past
filed away in a forgotten drawer
never to be seen again

People Suck (present company excluded)

2006-04-17T22:47:00.000-07:00

Picture the following: your spouse just found out that one of their parents had suddenly passed. It is a holiday and life must go on so visits etc are made. Your spouses parents live outside the country so they have to catch a late flight to make it home in time for the services. You arrive at the airport near midnight only to find you missed their scheduled flight. They are placed on standby and told it may be as many as five hours before a seat opens up.

Now I am sure that most of you reading this would do the following. Take your spouse to Starbuck's or some other establishment. You would sit with them. Comfort them. Listen to stories of life with parental unit. Regardless of your schedule. If it took all night you would be their offering whatever solace you could.

If you were normal that is.

This happened to someone I know yesterday. While I am not very fond of the husband I did not realize what a heartless bastard he was. His wife's father passed away Easter morning. For the entire day he complained about how this dying business was imposing difficulty on his life.

He did take her and her four year old son from a previous relationship to the airport at midnight. She missed her flight and rather than wait with her and the child offering solace, he left claiming he needed to sleep because he had to go to work in the morning.

The depths that some people stoop in how they treat other's should no longer surprise me. I should expect it but a part of me keeps looking for the good in everyone and I am feeling quite naive.

failure

2006-04-12T23:06:00.000-07:00

"can you repeat the question please?" he was speaking to a recruiter from an online university he had once expressed an interest in. life passing changes intent and he was no longer interested. she had begun her sales pitch, lacking the energy to interupt he allowed her to ramble on.

"no problem sir. what i asked was how do you define success?"

success for him was never about the stereotypes you heard everyday.

it was never about the most money. it was never about the newest car. it was never about the biggest house. or the country club. or the private jet. or the yearly cruises with the chad's of the world.

enough money for comfort. a car he could depend on. a home where the family was safe and warm. he never played golf. he hated to fly. and he had never been on a cruise.

his measure of success had always been easily defined. being the best husband, father and friend he could be. if he could not live up to those standards, well than none of the other things really mattered.

later that evening, a particularly stressful evening he sat in the darkness contemplating his standard answer.

with tear filled eyes and a heavy heart he realized the he had condemmed himself to failure with his own words. the material world aside he had failed to achieve the standards he had set for himself.

he was lost.

he was alone.

he had no answers.

his first marriage lasted long enough to produce a son. when the marriage failed so had he. he failed as a husband unable to even avoid divorce as he had once promised himself on a long forgotten dark and stormy night.

after several years of trial and error he failed as a father. he drifted away caught in the rapids of a changing life and though he claimed to have fought the tide he had fought hard enough because over a decade would pass before he saw his boy again.

he swore if he ever married again it would last. he swore if he ever had children again he would be a better father.

he kept his promise for more than a decade. even as the relationship began to unravel he fought to hold it together refusing to surrender.

there were two children involved this time and come hell or highwater he was going to do right by those kids. whatever sacrifice. whatever price. those children were not growing up without a father.

what foolishness. what a joke. promises made before the god's or nothing more than raindrops blown across the ocean by hurrican force winds. they mean nothing. darkness goes where darkness chooses and man foolishly thinks a candle of hope will resist even the most gentle of breezes. a damp finger though makes quick work of any flame.

who was he really protecting: his children from emotional abuse or his ego from another failure label. he could swear it was the former but he was beginning to believe it was the latter.

protection actually entails your presence making a difference, but was he. labels like fat, lazy, stupid, worthless etc were thrown around on a daily basis. screaming was the accepted form of conversation. tears from one or both children was a daily occurance. was his remaining helping his children in any way? honestly he could not see it.

his poor boy swore one night that he had the most wonderful family in the world. between chest aching sobs and tears of pure youthful anguish. it was all his fault no one elses. he was a bad kid. he was a slob. he was fat. he was lazy. someday he was going to weigh four hundred pounds.

each word of anguish was another nail in his personal cross of failure. his boy had been so upset that his sister had come down stairs and whispered in a tear filled voice. i'm scared my brother says he is going to run away.

what a joke he had become. what a failure. he swore he stayed to save a family and instead he had condemned them all.

he sat in the dark and cried.

perfidious

2006-04-11T23:06:00.000-07:00

gloom and angst
dance a waltz
upon the ceiling
of my waking dream
in lock step
and rhythm
perfect partners
lost in a song
beyond time
hollow and haunting
a melody
without words
capturing the dreamer
in bitter tides
of a perfidious sea

forest primeval

2006-04-08T23:43:00.000-07:00

a full moon smothers the sky
wrapping the stars
in a blanket of light
a primal urge rises
from deep within
my soul
fear of the unknown
the unknowable
a sob catches in my throat
a desire is born
to raise my voice
in unison
with a pack of wolves
howling a chorus
of primeval beauty
older than mankind
an offering sung
for the gods of darkness

Disturbed

2006-04-04T01:50:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in America tonight, there is a man or woman who is in very desperate need of services that can only be provided by a mental health professional. I do not know the name or location of this individual but it should be the sworn duty of each and every citizen of this country to identify them and get them the help that they so obviously require.

Who is this individual and what have they done?

The person I am refering to created the latest advertising campaign for Burger King. The commercial's can only be seen as a desperate cry for help.

If you have had the good fortune to miss them, they feature a person in a king's costume with what can only be described as a demented and overly large fake head.

The latest instalment featured the "king" jumping up and down on a bed surrounded by characters who must have been the rejects from a "Village People" movie casting call. The king was having a pillow fight and his frozen demented smile was so bizarre that I am afraid to sleep tonight for fear that my dreams will be filled with screaming "king" heads.

2006-04-03T23:02:00.000-07:00

Your Birthdate: October 2

You're so intuitive, it's like you have a sixth, seventh, and eighth sense.
You connect with others freely and easily - and you tend to have many best friends.
Warm and caring, it's hard for you to close your heart to anyone.
Affection is like air for you - you need to give and receive it to survive.

Your strength: Your universal compassion

Your weakness: Your unpredictable mood swings

Your power color: Mauve

Your power symbol: Butterfly

Your power month: February

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Never Been.........Until

2006-03-31T12:07:00.000-08:00

A year ago the 15th of April on the advice of an old blogger buddy I contacted the Mayo Clinic/Scottsdale Campus regarding my ongoing respitory issues. At the time I was informed that I would be put on a waiting list and that someone would contact me when my name came up.

I figured if was lucky, maybe a month or two would pass before I heard from them.

Of course I have never been lucky. Never win raffles. Never wind drawings. Never won the lottery.

After three months with no phone call the whole Mayo Clinic idea soon slipped into the background noise of life eventually to be forgotten.

Imagine my surprise than when last week a phone call was received from the Mayo Clinic. Seems I was not forgotten afterall. Only that there are quite a few people like myself with long term respitory issues.

Bottom line is that I have my appointment on May 10th. Since Scottsdale is five hours highway time away I will be driving in on the 9th.

My stay could be short as a day or as long as several weeks. All depends on the initial testing.

Momdate 3.29.06

2006-03-29T22:54:00.000-08:00

Been away from the throne for the better part of a week. Took a quick jaunt across the desert to visit mom in her Bullhead home.

Overall she is doing well. The various meds have improved her red blood cell count and she is beginning to have more energy. Her appetite was little better this visit as I actually witnessed her eating more than one meal.

The cancer is still limited to her bones. A recent scan showed that all of her organs are clear of the disease.

Her heart continues to be a concern. The inflammation is under control but the meds will not last forever.

Mom insists that the cancer does not worry her at all that it is her heart that will do her in.

Her attitude is good. In all honesty she is dealing with her own mortality better than I or my siblings are. I asked her how come she was always upbeat with the grim reaper somewhere in the neighborhood. She actually laughed at me and told me that she could either live and enjoy her remaining time or worry and not. She chose to live.

God bless her.

waiting room

2006-03-22T22:57:00.000-08:00

poor fluorescent lighting
casts a pallor of doom
through out the lab
one could almost picture
igor hissing a yes master
passing you in the hall
patients slump in worn furniture
sagging with age
smothered in fabrics
recovered from dumpsters
behind the remnant store
windowless
there is a sense of seperation
as the minutes pass
the real world slips into
mythology
the waiting room
become the ying and the yang
the alpha and omega
the beginning and the end
a timeless stretch
of linear space
dimensionless existance
the only reality
the holiest of all grails
a name called
out of the darkness
another one
chosen by the most high
allowed to escape
the purgatory
of the waiting room

silent addiction

2006-03-16T22:49:00.000-08:00

in the back of the closet
on an old wire hanger
hung the coat
his father had left behind
nothing fancy
brown leather
sweat stained, worn
buttons made
of simulated deer horn
it hung there for years
a painful reminder
of all that had been lost
when the sirens call
of the corner bar
became unresistable
and he crawled
into the wasteland
a barren place
where scattered bones
were a silent reminder
of all he had sacrificed
at the altar
of addiction

swamp night

2006-03-14T23:15:00.000-08:00

quicksand encrusted red canvas shoes
new moon hidden beneath the moss
bullfrog throwing back tequila shooters
mermaid tattoo on his back leg
an old 45 skips rope in the corner
where several rattlers shed their skin
slim whitman's old bandana
covers the log where the termites dance
several well worn firestones
serve as nurserys for the mosquito young
entertained by an old black bear
whispering stories that frighten the young
about a blonde haired monster
with large white teeth
who he swears he once saw
broke the furniture, ate the food
and slept in his childhood bed
of course no one belives him
he has a scar on his head
where a hunter once took a shot at him
and they know he is a little soft
the larvae settle in for the night
to the sound of a cricket song
interspersed with a gentle roar
from the giant on the ground.......

squirrel's know nothing

2006-03-13T01:03:00.000-08:00

squirrel's know nothing
about traffic jams
one way streets
traffice lights
or parking fines

squirrel's know nothing
about utility bills
satellite dishes
cellular phones
or the internet

squirrel's know nothing
about household chores
backed up plumbing
piles of laundry
or carpet stains

squirrel's know nothing
about engagement rings
wedding rings
no fault divorces
or child support

squirrel's know nothing
about anxiety
lung cancer
kidney failure
or heart attacks

squirrel's know nothing
about global warming
the greenhouse effect
air pollution
or mass extinction

squirrel's know
about the coming winter
hording nuts
blending with nature
and living in peace

maybe the squirrel's
know something after all

shores of compromise

2006-03-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

an emotional tattoo
burned into the tissue
of a warm and loving heart
love is a bitter reminder
of failed expectations
of fairy tales passed
from the dying breath
of one generation to the next
love is all you need
love will keep us together
love makes the world go round
legends built upon the bones
of the broken hearted
love is not the retirement party
a gold watch, a handshake
and goodbye
love is the application
love is the interview
a career chosen
a path explored
a shared vision
of a lifetimes journey
not upon a golden street
or upon the calmest seas
but one upon which
the roads are unpaved
one way
with ten thousand foot drops
for those who travel unawares
one upon which
the seas are fraught
with hurricanes
and sixty foot waves
love is a journey
on which survival depends
not on how many
i love you's
are exchanged
but on the compromise
and sharing
that make up a life
where each is ready
to give there all
to share the bitterness
to share the joy
found at journey's end
when two old souls
in faded wooden rockers
clutching trembling hands
can look upon the sunset
with pride
built upon accomplishment
with eyes
burning bright
whispering
i love you now as i did
on the day we said i do
but today i like you even more.......

amidst the whispering stones

2006-03-09T22:09:00.000-08:00

amongst the whispering stones
i search my soul
for crumbs of peace
hansel on the trail
of a med free life
a modern day nirvana
here amid
the marble and brass
lie the bones of generations
some withered flowers
and empty words
left to mark their passing
can they sense my anguish
can they taste
the salt of my tears
or am i but a shadow
a dust filled memory
of a world long forgotten

Shaking the Family Tree

2006-03-07T14:00:00.000-08:00

The internet for all its faults has brought great joy to my life. I reconnected with my oldest son. I reconnected with friends of the past. Complete strangers have sent me books just because I was looking for them accepting nothing in return. I have met and made friends with a few people who given our real world locations we would have never even been introduced. Now I cannot imagine my life without them.

My latest internet gift was so out of left field and unexpected that I am still somewhat stunned by its significance.

For several years now I have been working on the geneology of my family. My paternal side has been going nowhere for quite sometime. To my chagrin the Brueckner's and the Finn's with immediate connections to me have all passed away. Leaving no records behind to mark their passing. Someday I know I will find that first piece that leads to the discovery of a mother lode of information. Someday. But not today.

My luck has been much more rewarding on the maternal side.

I knew my maternal grandpa well but we never really discussed the Pankopf side of the family much. I have found information going back to Germany via Milwaukee though so I have made great progress. His mother's maiden name was Weinbrenner and there is an entire website dedicated to her family tree put together by various branches and I have been overwhelmed by the available information.

My maternal grandmother's maiden name was Spelta. Nana and I were close and we spent many hours discussing family history. I have letters she exchanged with my grandfather. I have postcards she received over the years from both friends and family. Funeral cards, her nursing certificate, her grade school graduation book. For the most part that information has been limited to her generation.

Recently I received an email from someone asking if I was interested in any information related to Quinto Spelta. At first I assumed that the email must be from a relative. I know my grandmother's oldest brother Eligio had a son Bobby who had moved to Alaska and the email was from Anchorage. I knew it was not from Bobby because he had died many years ago in small plane crash. I was sure that it must be from one of his children or grandchildren.

I was not even close.

The person who contacted me has no connection with our family in anyway, shape or form.

She is someone who is also working on her family tree. A friend of hers passed on to her a bible she had bought at a thrift store. The friend assumed she might be interested because there was a lot of paperwork stuffed between the pages.

She went through the bible and discovered birth records, newspaper articles, funeral cards and other documents. All were linked to the family name of Spelta.

She did some research and discovered that I was interested in information about the Spelta name. So she sent me the email.

The information she has is more than I had ever expected to find. There is birth information related to my grandmother, her siblings and relations still living in Italy. We exchanged several more emails with the bottom line being that she is sending me the bible and all of its contents to me at no charge. She is just thrilled to find someone related to Quinto who wants the information.

Life is good.

first

2006-03-05T23:06:00.000-08:00

my hands were damp
unable to grasp the steering wheel
with any sense of security
as my old jalopy drew closer to her home
i was filled with fear
my mouth was dry
saliva gone
as if sucked into oblivion
by a crazed dentist
my eyes darted nervously
from the oncoming traffic
to the rearview mirror
to the girl beside me
her profile showed no tension
she appeared to be calm, serene
at peace with the universe
undisturbed by the approaching chasm
why was i here
i was not ready
seventeen was to old for a first date
to old for a first kiss
to old to tremble at the thought
of stealing first base
what if she laughs
what if she slaps me
what if my breath could kill a dragon
as i turn onto her street the rain begins to fall
droplets the size of small balloons
slam my car
the gates of heaven have opened
am i to drown
is this a sign
should i let her go
unkissed,
a silent goodbye lost in the roar
of the battering storm
i pull into her driveway
turn off the engine
the only sound is our breathing
fogging the windows
closing us off from the outside world
and the rain
primordial in nature
creation, destruction
lost in confusion
i turn to speak
only to find her lips
on mine
gentle at first
than firmer and more intense
my world explodes
filled with bright light and sounds
i am shocked by the intensity
until i realize,
the explosion came from without
nothing more than the thunder
from our passing storm
lightening filled the skies with an intensity
our kiss could never match
we whispered awhile
kissed some more
watching the storm
awed by the power of nature
humbled by the spectacular
before hurried goodnights
beneath the rain
i walked back to my car
lost in the afterglow
of the passing storm

apocalypse

2006-03-02T01:32:00.000-08:00

his last days
were far from pretty
damaged lungs
beyond repair
were underinflated
fighting for oxygen
like a fish out of water
every muscle knotted
every nerve ready
every breath a battle
inhale, exhale
taken for granted
for so many years
as a child in milwaukee
as a young man
dancing with his future
a sentimental journey
for his heart
his soul
welcoming his children
into the world
three boys
and finally his
little girl
the apple of his eye
breathing was easy then
no warning on packages
no bans on it use
camel's were his friend
unfiltered and pure
brackish clouds of smoke
trailed behind him
toxic in nature
he would soon learn
too late for him
the will of the cigarette
was stronger
than the will of the man
even when that demon
emphasyma began
its slash and burn attack
leaving shriveled bronchia
in its wake
he tried
he failed
his world shrank
beyond recognition
a bed, a chair
an oxygen tank
a camel
the four horsemen
of his apocalypse

a tear stained quilt

2006-02-27T02:29:00.000-08:00

my depression is naught but
an old and faded quilt
in which i wrap my soul
each panel has been created
from dark moments of my life
in which i failed to pass a test
in which i failed to give a piece
of my heart, of my soul
to a brother on a corner
to a friend on bended knee
requesting only warmth
and shelter from the coming storm
each panel a reminder
of another lesson i failed to learn
of another mountain i failed to climb
leaving bits of bread crumbs
an empty reminder of my passing
no food for the hungry
no comfort for the lonely
ignorance of need a poor excuse
for the turning of one blind eye
each panel has been stained
by the oil of a thousand tears
falling silently in the darkness
from the eyes of a lonely man
lacking the courage to accept the comfort
offered by a thousand hands
lacking the faith of innocence
unable to believe in another’s heart
destined to walk a circle of silence
worry beads in hand
until the day he rediscovers
a belief in the promised land

Me, Rain?

2006-02-26T21:07:00.000-08:00

You Are Rain

You can be warm and sexy. Or cold and unwelcoming.
Either way, you slowly bring out the beauty around you.

You are best known for: your touch

Your dominant state: changing

What Type of Weather Are You?

Any Port in a Storm

2006-02-24T15:05:00.000-08:00

With the hours and hours of air time and thousands and thousands written pages it is almost pointless for me to comment on the whole port controversy. Almost.

My personal view is not tainted by red state thinking or blue state thinking. It is not affected by whether I am pro-Bush or anti-Bush. My opinion has nothing to do with terrorism or the threat thereof.

In plain english no foreign power should be responsible for running or securing our ports. This should also apply to our airports, our airspace and our borders. Period no exceptions.

Does not matter if they are friend or ally.

Does not matter if we share borders, politics or religious belief.

Does not matter if we look the same, eat the same or speak the same language.

Perceptions and reality both matter when looking at the big picture.

We are perceived to be the most powerful nation on the planet yet we are unable to maintain our own ports. That does not compute with me.

We only have to look at ancient Rome to see that the fall came not from without but from within. Was caused not by Romans but by those that Rome brought in to run the empire.

a simple spoon

2006-02-23T02:10:00.000-08:00

in reality
it is nothing much
a simple spoon
made from wood
the handle is worn
from years of use
before she had
a mixer
or a whisk
she had this spoon
for mixing batter
stirring tea
or serving
german potato salad
the spoon
was once shiny
a coat of varnish
captured the light
hypnotizing
my five year old eyes
reflections dancing
around the tiny kitchen

she has been gone now
for a decade or so
her spoon though
holds a place of honor
on the white tile counter
standing tall and proud
amidst the modern tools
stirring my iced tea
tossing german potato salad
a simple spoon
a time machine
taking me back
to nana's kitchen

The One Where I Am Sure To Piss Someone Off...

2006-02-21T23:19:00.000-08:00

May be offensive to some readers. Proceed at your own risk.

Not unlike most of the population my religous upbringing was decided by those who came before me. My maternal grandmother's family originated in Italy, fire and brimstone Catholics by nature. A fear of God and the Catholic Church (not necessarily in that order) were the birthrite of each generation.

I followed the path laid before me. Baptism, First Communion, Confirmation each step on the ladder dutifully climbed. Each sign of the cross performed. Each confession shared with one of the parish priests assuring my future ascension into heaven.

Each ritual shared with family and friends a community of believers marching in lockstep. Chanting the hymns and shouting hosannas to the heavens.

There was only one thing wrong with this picture. I did not buy it. The church, the rituals, the holier than though attitude of so many parishioners just rubbed me the wrong way. And when my grandmother gave the company line to each of my questions I knew that I was spinning my wheels on a path of empty beliefs.

Mine not anyone elses.

I have known more than my share of Catholics in my day who have a sincere and strong belief in the church and I have a deep and abiding respect for that. It is only my own beliefs that are in question here.

I kept up the charade though. Not out of respect for the church but out of respect for my grandmother who was in point of fact in many ways a second mother to me. So until her passing I attended mass by her side. Sat with her in the hall on Sunday mornings while she shared coffee, donuts and gossip with her friends of many decades. Never letting on that my beliefs were lacking and that it was all being done in her honor not the popes.

Upon her passing I walked away from the Catholic Church and have yet to look back.

God is a different story.

I have deep and unwavering belief in God. A belief that has remained strong through the trials, tribulations and joys of my life. My problem has never been with the creator. My problem is now and has always been with organized religion.

I just cannot buy into it.

Most if not all religions are built upon a foundation of sand claiming a legacy received from God.

My problem is that as I look around this idea does not compute.

I believe in God. I believe that God had a hand in the creation of the universe. The development of life on this planet. That God is directly or indirectly responsible for the daily miracles of this world.

Sunrises. Sunsets. Rainbows. Childbirth. All perfect in their own way.

My question is if as I believe God created a perfect universe, how in the world could God have created the mess we call organized religion?

To Be Continued...

a wall

2006-02-20T00:02:00.000-08:00

where did that wall come from
i asked myself
a wall which enclosed my world
blocking the sunshine
nothing grows behind this wall
the grass is brown
the flowers dead
the trees are stunted
unable to raise feeble branches
high enough to reach the warmth
within these walls
there is a path
along the wall
a perfect circle
i have no memory of the path
just of walks
lasting hours
long into the night
around and around i would walk
contemplating
meditating
praying
berating
pleading
eyes roaming a bit of sky
in search of a star
to grant my wish
to tear down this wall
to heal my heart
to give me hope
a reason
to believe again
a reason
to smile again
a reason
to remove the bricks
that surround my world
a reason to tear down
the wall
i never built
the wall
that protects me from the pain
that hides my tears from the world
that allows me to hide
in a dark corner
where the world is silent
and pain a myth
just me
and my sock monkey
waiting for the dawn

Audience Manipulation

2006-02-16T00:11:00.000-08:00

I am not sure if this a recent phenomenon or something that slipped passed me when I was not paying attention. It is not really an issue of any great significance just something that is irritating like a fly that keeps hovering around your ear.

What I find to be annoying is the way that the major networks are plugging the ratings or audience for their shows.

In the past the rating book would be released each week and any interested party could see that show A had so many million viewers, and show B had so many, on and on a number for every show.

Now, I have heard advertising for various shows including the Olympics hyping a cumulative number rather than an episodic number.

For example a show may be watched by 8 million viewers per week good but not great numbers. Nothing you would hype in an ad. Times that by 10 for the amount of weeks the show has been on the air and suddenly you have 80 million viewers that cannot be wrong.

Today it was the Winter Olympics and how over 70 million viewers have been captured by the drama and majesty of the games. Sounds impressive until you break it down by three networks showing various events almost 24 hours per day and suddenly your numbers are not that impressive.

sea

2006-02-14T23:00:00.000-08:00

i am of the ocean
a droplet of water
lost in a sea of salt
cast upon the currents
swallowed by a blue whale
filtering a world of plankton
through the blowhole
cast into the sky
i soar but for a moment
drifting, falling
riding the back
of a dolphin
singing a song of ancients
dancing to the music of gods
listening to creation myths
chants for non-believers
a wave washes me
back into the sea
where without concious thought
i evaporate
joining my bretheran
in the clouds of life
awaiting rebirth
rejoicing in the knowledge
that through us
a world is possible

A Sea of Anxiety

2006-02-12T22:36:00.000-08:00

If you have never experienced the debilitation of long term panic and/or anxiety disorder you are fortunate. If you are experiencing the debilitating affects of long term panic and/or anxiety disorder than I am confident that you will identify with this rant.

The average person has no clue nor understanding of the mechanics that make up an actual panic attack or symptoms created by variety of social anxieties. If they did they would shut up and quit judging those of us who deal with these issues on a daily basis.

I am sick and tired of the responses people have had to the changes I have gone through since the onset of these issues.

Do I enjoy going to the movies, of course I do. What I do not enjoy is paying ten dollars for a ticket. Another ten dollars for popcorn and soda only to have a wicked anxiety attack during the first ten minutes of the movie because the theater is to crowded and the sound system is to loud. Which leaves me waiting outside in the lobby for the movie to end so I do not ruin if for whoever I went to the theater with. So instead of going through all of that crap I choose not to go to the movies. If you don't like it than find someone else to hang with because I do not have the time to waste pretending that going to the movie will be enjoyable for me. If I do manage to sit through one it will be an early showing on a weekday.

Do I enjoy Disneyland or other amusment parks in the area. I did at one time. What I do not enjoy is spending fifty dollars to visit for the day and having anxiety every time I get in line and am surrounded by masses of people. That is not fun in any way shape or form.

For the same reason I do my best to avoid any situation involving large crowds. When anxiety hits the last place you want to find yourself is in a sea of people with no exit in any direction.

My social anxiety has been so bad at times that when I was working it would take an hour to make a phone call to another office. My hand would freeze and I would have to steel myself to dial the number and actually speak to a stranger.

Panic attacks are even worse. With social anxiety at least you can reduce its effects by avoiding situations you are familiar enough with to know the may trigger an attack.

Panic attacks can come from any direction and hit when you least expect it. You may be aware of some triggers but never all of them. You can be in the car. In the shower. Watching television. Out to dinner with friends. And bam out of nowhere you want to run away and hide.

The worst part about it is the lack of self control. In my case a part of my mind is aware that it is only a panic attack but it is only a silent observor. It cannot convince the rest of me that there is no need to panic. It cannot even stop the attack from happening. It is only able to note for future reference what happened.

I am sick and tired of people telling me they understand, that they have been there only to find out that their idea of a panic attack or social anxiety is being a little nervous for a job interview or having butterflies before a first date. Or maybe freaking out because they forgot an assignment for work or school.

That folks is normal anxiety. It has nothing to do with what someone who has social anxiety or suffers from panic attacks goes through.

With anxiety or panic attacks there are a number of symptoms one are all of them can be severe enough to send the sufferor to the ER.

Your heart will race out of control. Your blood pressure will be extremely high. My first panic attack my blood pressure was 210/160. You will feel a great deal of pressure on or in your chest. Your mind will be convinced you are going to die. Not some day. Now right this minute. Your hands will shake. Your eyes will tear up and you may even cry. In your mind you will begin saying goodby to all you knew in this life. At the same time you will apologize to the doctor or anyone else who might be helping that you are sorry you are such a burden. That you are aware that you are having a panic attack but you cannot control it.

The worst part of any attack though is the amount of people who do not believe you or do not understand how bad it can be. If the person loves you they may come to a understanding not really knowing what is going on but supporing you unconditionally. If that happens you are lucky.

The doubters far outweigh the supporters. I have been told to toughen up and be a man. I have had people who claimed to care ridicule me for what I have gone through. I know of people who have had to take themselves to the ER because family, friend or coworkers just did not understand. I even know of one person who was sent home from the ER without treatment because the nurse said it was all in their head.

So if you know someone who is going through this please be understanding and supportive it is a very scary place to be.

If you are going through this and there are people in your life be it friends, family or whatever and they do not understand kick them to the curb. You deserve to have people around you who support you through thick or thin.

smoke

2006-02-11T02:02:00.000-08:00

a ring of dust
is all that remains
to remind me
of where the lighter
once sat
an heirloom
once of my grandfather
a gun
with an unlimited suppy
of bullets
creating flames
which lit
the unfiltered tool
a cartoon camel
selling death
to the masses
taking the strength
from a man once proud
left to sit on his porch
oxygen in a can
a diver
in the driest ocean
no gills
no lungs
a desperate whisper
one more smoke
before i go

Forgiveness

2006-02-08T21:49:00.000-08:00

Forgiveness is most difficult to find when it is ourselves we must forgive.

ruins

2006-02-06T22:46:00.000-08:00

red screams
silence the whispers
falling like snowflakes
from the harvest moon
upon a field
where crosses lay
in wet embrace
amidst the ruins

A Simple Question

2006-02-05T01:35:00.000-08:00

For the past few weeks every where I turn I see a million people going to pieces over some mistruth's in A Million Little Pieces. People are shocked to find that a former drug addict may have embellished the truth. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. Which really is not the point. In the larger scope of life who was hurt by his embellishments. Other than Oprah's ego of course. Big picture no one was hurt. Regardless of the twists in his tale he is still a junky who kicked the habit.

On the the other end of the spectrum Natural Cures They Don't Want You To Know About has been a best seller for more than six months. The author has done time for fraud. He has been investigated, fined and punished by the FCC for misleading people. Yet no one is questioning how many people could be hurt for real if they ignore practical medical care and instead sleep with a magnent under their bed or where white more often to prevent illness.

Someone needs to step back and recheck or priorities. Author number two has the potential to do quite a bit more damage than author one. Yet he receives a pass from the mainstream media while author one is being roasted over the coals.

Medicare: Or How To Reduce The Surplus Population

2006-02-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

Medicare reform with the addition of the new drug plan was sold to the American people as a way to improve access to health care for the disabled and the aged. After navigating my way through several weeks of hell I have come to the conclusion that the reform was actually designed to eliminate the surplus population through heart failure and strokes brought on by the stress of dealing with the system.

Not that I am any sort of rocket scientist, but I do know my way around the computer and have spent many years navigating the wasteland of corporate bureaucracies. That being said I have never in my 46 years dealt with a system as conveluted and senseless as this one.

In my case as most of you know I have been disabled for close to three years now. This past October I had to choose between paying more than four hundred dollars a month for private insurance or going on medicare. After weighing the pros and cons I went with medicare. Primararly because of the drug benefits that began this year.

I spent several weeks reviewing the various options. Standard medicare with a seperate drug plan was one choice. The other was choosing a combined drug/ins plan that allowed more freedom of choice. The money medicare would normally pay would go to the insurance company and they would manage your health care.

Neither choice was perfect but in the end I went with the ins/drug plan. In part because the drug coverage was far better.

I completed all of the forms. I was asked to choose a primary care doctor which I did. The same doctor I have been seeing for years. The question was never asked about specialist coverage and my mistake was not finding out for myself. I had chosen the same insurance plan I had through work and I wrongly assumed that the medical group my doctor belonged to would remain the same with the new plan.

Wrong.

While I was given the primary care doctor of my choice the group I was placed in had only one local doctor: mine. None of the specialists I have seen for three years were covered. None of the local hospitals were covered. For anything other than primary health care I would have to drive 30 minutes or more.

On the plus side the new program allows changes until May '06. On the downside trying to navigate the electronic phone maze they have developed will kill all but the most hardy.

I called and the electronic voice informed me that their would be a fifteen minute wait. No big deal right. Wrong again. That was followed by a disclaimer that due to the high volume my call might be dropped and I should be prepared to call back.

The muzak began and while muzak is never pleasent it is even more annoying when interupted every 60 second by a voice telling me that all circuits were busy. Finally after a little more than ten minutes a voice told me I was going to be transfered.

I was. To another voice telling me that due to the volume of calls I could not be connected and I should try again. Click and I was hung up on.

This went on for two days.

Meanwhile I need a chest xray that I cannot get unless I pay cash because I do not have authorization for the right radiologist.

To make a long story short. After many hours spent in the system I finally have the right plan. I cannot imagine how a senior citizen or someone who is much sicker than I could even come close to getting the correct plan.

When choosing plans not only do you have to verify that all of your doctors are covered. You also have to enter every drug you take to make sure that each of them are covered also.

The mess that the feds have created is unbelievable in its complexity. Hopefully someone will see the light and improve the system. Considering though what has happened in this country over the past few years I will not be holding my breath. I need all the oxygen I can get.

Momdate 2.3.06

2006-02-03T23:10:00.000-08:00

A mixed bag of momformation this month.

Her most recent tests show her cancer is still in somewhat of a holding position. She has been having more pain in her shoulder though so a new body scan will have to be done to be sure.

Her red blood cell count is too low therefor she has become extremely anemic. She received a shot too boost her red blood cell production. I cannot remember the name of the med, it is advertised on television for people undergoing chemo.

The shot appeared to make a difference almost immediately. She said she was less tired and able to accomplish more through out the day.

The downside is that she has to have her blood tested each week until it stablizes. Which for her means driving from Bullhead City to Palm Springs every seven days. Hopefully the shots will work quickly and this will not be a long term task. I tried to talk to her about moving to Palm Springs but she is not yet willing to give up the river.

She is already to the point where she is no longer comfortable driving at night. After dark her vision is horrible. Driving home from my uncle's (he also lives in Bullhead) she was getting pissed off at a driver who appeared to be on the wrong side of the road. Turned out she was the one on the wrong side.

2006 I think is shaping up to be a year of great changes for her.

Activities for Insomniacs

2006-02-02T23:30:00.000-08:00

watch infomercials until your credit card is maxed out or you fall asleep whichever comes first.
reorganize the silverware drawer.
play World of Warcraft until your eyes bleed.
listen to the coyotes fight.
walk around the house collecting dead insects.
organize medicine by type, name and dosage.
see if you can catch a cobweb being formed.
have a one person scavanger hunt by digging through all the couch cushions.
organize shirts by type and color.
wash the shoelaces from your tennis shoes by hand.
place two ice cubes in the sink and see which one melts fastet.
count the hairs on the back of your hands.
organize all the files on your computer.
organize all the photos sitting in envelopes through out the house.
force yourself to watch nick at nite and tvland no matter how horrible the shows are that they are rerunning.
learn to yodel.
knock on a neighbors door and borrow a glass of milk.
wash your mailbox.
read war and peace.
clean the gunk that has built up between the keys on your keyboard.
waste twenty minutes of your life that will never be replaced by developing a silly list such as this.

Suggestion Box

2006-02-01T22:24:00.000-08:00

Back in the day when I was a full time employee and a once in a blue moon writer I would periodically hit up co-workers and friends for ideas. Nothing major, an opening line or word with which to build a poem, rant or story.

Well fellow bloggers I seem to have temporarly hit the proverbial wall when it comes to new ideas. I as if I am very much in a rut when it comes to creativity and writing.

Simply put if anyone out there has a word, an opening line or any other suggestion that might spark my muse please feel free to leave a comment.

Please.

2006-01-31T22:10:00.000-08:00

President Bush taking issue with America's reliance on middle eastern oil is akin to a corner drug distributer taking issue with his clients dependence on cocaine.

2006-01-30T02:11:00.000-08:00

Why is that so many leaders of the "free world" feign surprise when after applying economic, military or political pressure to bring about a "democracy", the citizens of said "democracy" choose to exercise their rights and elect a government of their choosing?

Loss

2006-01-29T16:16:00.000-08:00

Today, a good friend unexpectedly lost his mother. She lived with his brother and passed away in her sleep.

Why is it that when we want to hurt someone the words come fast and easy? We can feel empowered by them as the person our anger is directed cringes in shock and pain.

Yet when someone close to us experiences a loss words seem hollow even when the meaning behind them is sincere. Words of condolence seem to have no power, no strength, they leave us with a feeling of loss as if we should be doing more.

If any good can come out of her death it is the realization of how lucky I am.

Not that my mom having a terminal illness is lucky but with long term health issues comes time. Time for us to talk, to share, to say all that needs to be said so that when her time comes she nor I will be left with regrets.

Please remember Dominick and his family during this difficult time.

General Patton

2006-01-27T22:27:00.000-08:00

I noticed him while waiting in line to place my order. Friday afternoon and the lunch rush was on. Usually, I eat lunch later to avoid the lines but circumstances left me without options.

He was elderly. Maybe seventy-five. Unshaven with a soiled baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His jeans were worn and his sweater had definately seen better days. He appeared to be harmless but from the look in his eyes it was rather obvious that the elevator had not reached the top floor in many years.

Looking at the menu required focusing my attention in his direction which I immediately sensed was a mistake. He threw me a half-assed salute as if he knew me. Pretending not to see I returned my attention to the book I was reading until it was my time to order.

In looking for a free table I was not surprised to find the only one available was near my new friend. My fellow diners had picked up the same vibe as me and I appeared to be the loser in a grown game of musical chairs.

Dispensing my soda I sat at my table and returned to my book. Despite my best effort to lose myself in the pages I could hear shuffling behind me and knew without looking I would soon have company.

With a quiet sigh I looked up to find him standing before me, with a hoarse whisper he asked if he could join me. When I did not immediately respond he removed a picture of an elderly woman sitting on Santa's lap, set it beside me and walked away.

I vainly tried to decipher his intentions without success. Moments later he returned, stood at attention before me and this time threw me a rather crisp salute.

"May I join you General Patton sir."

Glancing around I failed to find who he was addressing until much to my chagrin I realized it was me. Left without options, my choice was to be rude or to humor him. Choosing to humor him I allowed him to join me in hopes he would grow bored and leave.

Than I made the mistake of coughing.

"General sir, are you ill? Why are you coughing?"

I mumbled that I had bronchitis.

"Are you still smoking general?"

"No I do not smoke. I have never smoked. You have me confused with someone else."

"But general what about the lung cancer, I told you stop smoking or it will kill you."

Exasperated but in control I informed my friend that he was confused. I did not have cancer. I never smoked and that he was confusing me with someone else.

"He looked at me as if he had lost his best friend. General I don't know why you are doing this. You know me. You know my girlfriend in this picture." He pointed at the woman on Santa's lap. "You dressed as Santa for this picture. You know she lives right across the way."

With that he gave me a look of disgust. He picked up his picture and without a word walked out the door.

Needless to say in the future I will return to avoiding the lunch hour rush.

Nobody's Puppet

2006-01-26T01:09:00.000-08:00

i am not a puppet
no gipetto controls my strings
no one tells me when to jump
i've never asked how high
those who orbit the boundaries
of this world i call life
could never understand
each sacrifice i make
they sit upon
their ivory thrones
passing judgement
without facts
watching through the window
of a suburbian tv screen
unable to see the forest
through a sea of viagra ads
it is said that life
can be a roller coaster
lots of hills
a thousand screams
it is said that discretion
without valor
is a worthless gesture
in a two cent world
yet despite the jeers
of the hissing crowd
gathered for the drawing
of aged innocent blood
their will be no sacrifice
no lamb on a broadway stage
an audience left
with disappointment
should beware
of that which is free
i will do my mourning
amongst the grease paints
in the shadows
of an early fall
a character actor
without a script
left to recite soliloquies
in the dark

Systematic Rollercoaster

2006-01-22T23:36:00.000-08:00

My body at this point on Sunday night has no idea what has hit it. I am quite sure that my brain has thrown up its metaphorical hands shouting - Who know's what the hell he wants. All because of a bit of pneumonia, a bit of bronchial inflammation and a large dose of anxiety.

For day to day maintanence of my breathing issues I use an Advair inhaler. Helps with long term breathing issues and for me at least has little or no effect on my anxiety which of course is a good thing.

However, when hit with a combination of pneumonia and bronchial inflammation the breathing issues can rise to crisis levels with wheezing commencing on short walks from the computer to the kitchen.

On those occaisons the big guns have to be brought in, those being puffs of Albuterol which is designed for crisis mode. Problem is that Albuterol and anxiety do not play well together and I am quite sure that they do not even like each other.

If anxiety is high even before the introduction to the mix of Albuterol I am left with little choice but to follow the puffs of Albuterol with a Xanex chaser. Which is the point when my brain say - what the #@$% are you doing to me.

Albuterol is steroid based and hypes up the nervous system at least it does for me. While Xanex is for calming the nerves when one is in the middle of a anxiety attack.

With a little imagination one can easily see the problem. Steroids hit the system and it is all systems go as the body absorbs the medication. Than just when the launch is set to go the countdown is stopped as Xanex is added to the mix. Now the systems are in standby mode and no part of the body knows where to turn.

Sometimes the Albuterol kicks butt and the anxiety comes in waves. Other times the Xanex holds its own and I survive the onslaught. Last night was a four puff night. Tonight is looking the same.

So if anyone reading this detects a virtual scream ignore it. That would be me losing my mind.

Lone Pine

2006-01-21T22:16:00.000-08:00

footprints in the snow
solitary, left by one
still there
sitting on an old tree
embracing solitude
thinking, observing
as moonlight
appears and disappears
chasing star dust
through the trees
a stream
frozen over
running water
gurgles beneath the ice
a lone coyote
tracking dinner
nose to the snow
around her log
life continues
nature
never wavers
despite
her confusion
her search
for peace
within
without
yesterday
a grab bag
scrambled joy
seasoned with sorrow
today
a potpourri
confusion scented
with hope and promise
tomorrow
unknown, unpredictable
a blink
in time
before tomorrow
becomes yesterday
dreams
become fact
hearts heal
behind
walls of protection

rising
she breathes deep
ice crystals
tickle her skin
halfway
to the parking lot
beneath a rock
oddly shaped
she hides
a key, with a
note attached
if found
please return
to owner
be gentle
the heart is scarred
tender, and raw
can be found
roaming
the planet
in a quiet search
for answers
to questions
yet unknown

Book Murmurs

2006-01-20T21:37:00.000-08:00

Already Dead by Charlie Huston, is a mystery/detective story with a twist. If you are a fan of mysteries with just a touch of horror thrown in you will love this book.

Joe Pitt lives in New York City and is infected with the Vyrus. While he does not have steady employment he gets by doing odd jobs for two of the powerful clans who control the streets.

While searching for a shambler (someone infected with a flesh eating bacteria) he is asked by the leader of the Coalition to find the missing daughter of high soceity parents, a daughter who gets a thrill out of slumming with the inhabitents of the goth underworld.

Before long Joe(and the reader) is caught up in a battle over turf and a desire to save the girl despite the odds against both him and her.

As far as aforementioned twist goes, the Vyrus Joe is infected with turns people into vampires. Not in the Anne Rice or Bram Stoker sense but vampires just the same. Vampires who must feed on human blood without leaving unexplained corpses littering the landscape. Vampires who in Joe's case feed humanely and without spreading the Vyrus to others.

2006-01-19T01:13:00.000-08:00

If only pain, depression, heartache and loneliness could be resolved in fifty-one minutes of network television time. If only life were so simple. If only.....

saragossa sea

2006-01-18T22:53:00.000-08:00

step off the precipice
no net below
wings of depression
will carry you
across the road
upon the angry sea
no need for fear
self evaluation
personal recrimination
xanex for the soul
question each descision
analyze every word
search for deeper meaning
in the scars
upon the heart
serving as reminders
of more trusting days
days of wine and roses
when hope was the sail
filled with dreams of love
rendered useless
shredded by many hurricanes
bearing the names
of those faithless ones
who shredded
years of tomorrows
empty sorrow filled vessels
stagnant remnents
adrift upon
the saragossa sea

As the World Turns

2006-01-17T01:03:00.000-08:00

If I were one who made New Year's resolutions, which I am not, I would have made two. First, to do everything within my power to make 2006 a much healthier year than the past three. Second, to reduce the stress in my life to a point where it might be possible to deal with anxiety and agraphobia on a less medicinal level and more of a psychological level.

With than in mind I find not being a resolution maker to be a source of solace, for if I had made those resolutions I would have failed miserably.

My stress and anxiety levels are if anything more severe than they have been in quite a while. Meds can only take you so far, some of the healing or calming has to come from within. For whatever reason I cannot seem to find that place where I am at peace. Anxiety and depression continue to be annoying and miserable cell mates.

Reasons are complex some within my control, some not. What I would not give for one stress free, anxiety less day. Just one. I am not greedy and you have to start someplace.

Healthwise I have been fighting a cold since before Christmas. No real infection, the usual coughing that I have dealt with ages a bit of a runny nose and fatigue. That being said over the last few days it seems to have gotten the best of my immune system once more.

I did my best to avoid illness. Ate right, washed my hands, avoided people with colds and other odd illnesses yet despite my best effort it seems it will be back to the antibiotic track for me once more.

I am going to the doctors in the morning, yet again. With my chest feeling like several elephants are fighting over who gets to sleep on my sternum I can only assume that I have pneumonia once again. I keep evicting him and he keeps coming back.

Does anyone know a good lawyer who could get a restraining order against pneumonia, if so I sure as hell could use one.

memory blanks

2006-01-14T22:46:00.000-08:00

through filtered glass
inner worlds appear
gleaming and sparkling
in the morning light
hiding beauty
covering gloom
thoughts appear
only to drift away
there is love
though no one cares
a thread appears
disappearing in time
hand in hand
walking together
time makes promises
no one can hear
the outer glass shatters
dancing on the ground
dying without a sound
as time walks away
laughing to himself