The main places that I’ve called home include Ohio, Missouri, Florida, New Mexico, Nevada and, for a little bit, Tennessee. I’ve driven hundreds of thousands of miles and refer to things going wrong with me according to a place where that illness is significant. For example, I got a bladder infection so I referred to that with the doctor as “a night in Bangkok without the fun.” His reply was “if you’re referring to it in that way, obviously you’ve been to Bangkok.”

Over the years, the road has been a trusted friend, a place that always welcomed me and opened the possibilities to new adventures. One of my passions was to always go to a place where nobody knew me, set up and hit the ground running. My daughter told me once that I didn’t have much to take with me like Dayna. That’s the way Nomads are, traveling light, moving along, minding their own business.

Dayna lasted eighteen years in New Mexico going to school, working for the Army, raising her son, and taking care of family. I spent nine years in New Mexico, raising my daughter, then with Dayna, raising the children, going to work, taking vacations and trying to keep the Nomad spirit at bay. Seemed to work because the road was there and we took advantage of it every chance we could.

When I got sick, I knew that I had to get well enough to take to the road once again or life as I knew it would be over. I could exist but without satisfying that urge, life would be almost unbearable. The last big trip in 2010 was a wondrous trip filled with smiles, good conversation, a lot of miles, some good and bad road food, adventure and stories we could share when we got back to the grind called life.

Everyday I hear the road calling me. I walk out to get the mail and see my car sitting there almost saying “cmon, what are you waiting for?” When I open the garage and see Dayna’s car sitting there, the car she loved so much sitting there without a driver, without her eyes peering just over the steering wheel, it almost takes everything I have not to just get in one of them and drive til I can’t drive anymore.

There are problems with that though because if I do like I did in my youth, chances are good I wouldn’t be able to make it back to what is now, the grind of the house. There is no disputing the fact that I am a Nomad and love the road but where does one go when the road is no longer an option?

Now I want to remind you closet readers that this was Dayna’s LAST PICTURE. It was taken approximately three to four weeks before she died. This is a big deal especially to a family who had just lost a mother, wife and grandmother. Dayna fought for her license right to the Superintendent of Licensing himself. In fact, he signed Dayna’s license personally and gave her the coveted “Highly Qualified” in many of the subjects on her license. This fight took over a year so it was something that we didn’t take lightly.

Today, my daughter called the High School where Dayna taught because there was a ceremony scheduled in early December but it had to be cancelled because the plaque didn’t come in. The school said hey would call and reschedule but I had arranged for a few of Dayna’s friends and mentor to be there from the school district. The reason why my daughter called the school today? There hasn’t been one phone call, one email, one text, not one anything concerning this since the ceremony was cancelled last year.

Now now.. before we get our panty’s in a bunch I know that administrators have a busy day but, this type of insensitive behavior toward a teacher who actually put kids before school politics is deplorable. When my daughter called, the secretary, who was always nice, told her that nothing had been done since Dayna died and it was up to the principal to put in the requests. The cost to the school budget? ZERO.

When a student dies, grief counselors, pats on the head, all things are put into place to soften the impact on the kids but let a teacher pass away, especially a popular one like Dayna who got at least a dozen hugs from kids as she walked down the hall, nada, zero, zip.

These are the professionals that oversee what goes on in the classroom. All the blame for failure is put on the teacher but lets look at the administration who’s supposed attention to detail obviously lacks. Either this principal is unprofessional in her behavior by not doing anything about this and not notifying me of anything just shows me that a dedicated professional’s passing is either “no big deal” or she is just enough a scatter brain that she shouldn’t be in charge of a school because of her lack of attention to details.

I don’t care about a plaque on the wall but I do care about what students had to say about the passing of one of their teachers. It’s not fair to the family and it’s definitely not fair to the kids who took the time to remember, write poetry and express their feelings. Just shows me just how “caring” some school administrators are.

This time, I’m looking for some feedback even if it’s telling me that I’m whining about this but withholding the last pictures of my wife is unforgivable. Thank goodness my daughter researched who the photographer was and we got copies directly from them. Thanks a lot school district administration. No wonder why the general public think you’re a bunch of clowns.

Screw family, screw the law, screw everything and everyone except themselves. When tragedies strike, these “liberal mental giants” turn off their phone and have a glass of wine. Heaven forbid anything ruin their good time. Then, again with a straight face, whine about their situation while they try and impress their friends with all the style and grace they can muster. After they turn off the phone, at the zenith of an emergency, they have the gall to start communicating demanding “updates” through any way possible.

Doesn’t matter how busy anyone else is as long as they are not inconvenienced and don’t have to take care of anything. When everything is over, it’s back to normal and the situation is never brought up again because, it’s all about them. So does that make a liberal or does that make a conservative? I get confused because I burned my scorecard back in the 70s along with my draft card.

I’ve always been the kind of person who helps the family and friends. Even though I haven’t seen my family in years and I have probably nothing to contribute anymore, I’d still be there if needed. We raised our kids to be responsible and to think of others and I don’t know if it rubbed off or not. Only time will tell about that but they have their own lives to lead.

Now, if you’ve been reading my blogs, you know I like to play the “what if” game. What if the shoe was on the other foot and these social elitists needed help from someone they crapped all over? Would they then think less of the people who refuse to help them even though they do the same? Probably their motto is “do as I say, not as I do.”

My daughter is doing something for school about nature versus nurture. I believe no matter how much you nurture, nature always takes over. Just as nature protects herself from the idiocy of man, nature takes over in the gene pool. I think Dayna believed that too because I remember her saying that a lot of people she came in contact had no business re-creating and should be eliminated from the gene pool.

I see a lot of “it’s all about me” from people lately. Screw your kids because you have an axe to grind against the ex, screw your parents because there is nothing they can do for you anymore and screw your family because they are just trying to keep their head above water and don’t know a good vintage of wine from Italian Swiss Colony.

Me, I’ll take a shot of Jack Daniels and a beer or a Captain Morgans Black and a diet Coke over a glass of Chardonnay any day. Does that make me a conservative or a liberal? To me, it just makes me human and willing to step up against the odds and keep fighting even though the hits have been hard lately. Is there anyone going to be there for me when the fight gets too much for me? Only time will tell. Til then, I guess I’ll keep my head down and take one or two for the team, as usual.

Over the years, I’ve developed a mind trick whenever it was time to get blood work. I call it “going to my happy place.” My happy places are places I’ve been, experiences I’ve had or things that I’ve done which made me incredibly happy. One of those happy places is 223 Plank Road. It was the first time that I saw where a road got “fresh oil” to keep the dust down and the bathroom was an outhouse out the back of the cottage.

The original building was like a tube which meant when you went in the back door, you could walk a straight line and out the front door all the way down to a beautiful lake which very few knew about. There were many a summer day spent at my Uncle’s cottage shoveling tons of sand to make a beach only to go swimming for the rest of the day. When you walked in the water, once you got to the end of the dock which is where his pontoon boat was tied, the bottom would fall out from under your feet. He once told me that he put a hundred foot pole in the lake and the pole didn’t hit bottom.

The last time I was in the lake which 223 Plank Road faced was 40 years ago but thinking about being there puts my in a happy place much the same as driving toward the east in 2010 with Dayna and the conversations we had. Another happy place is driving down Jacksonville Beach in my Pontiac GTO before they outlawed cars on the beach or watching a terrific sunrise from the hood of that GTO.

One of my favorite sights to see was standing on the flight deck of the U.S.S. Forrestal on a pitch black night only to watch the jets dump their fuel before landing, then igniting the afterburners for a spectacular light show. Baseball and football games at the family cookouts, drives in the cars, my first trip to Vegas, exploring old Tuscon movie set and a host of other things puts me in a place where things don’t seem so bad.

All roads lead back to 223 Plank Road and the people who lived on that strip of cottages. They were all unique in their own right and just sitting around the fire pit on a cool evening was something special. You knew sooner or later you’d have to go home but just being there was enough to sustain you until you came back. It’s been 40 years since I sat near that fire pit overlooking a calm lake and the memories still sustain me even though most of the people who were there at the time are now gone.

I think about the words from Billy Crystal every time the phone rings and it’s the doctor. Today was the results of the blood test from last week. All the numbers are in the normal range so I guess despite how things are, I’m in relatively good shape. Why do I bring this up? My chief complaints are that I get dizzy, have migraines, can’t walk over 100 feet without turning pale and almost passing out but as long as the numbers are alright, no problem. What do they do for the migraines and not being able to sleep? One of Dayna’s favorite drugs, Vicodin. Yep, I’m a responsible adult so in order to relax, and to get rid of the headaches, the controlled substance. Glad I gave that up thirty years ago. Now all I need is a cigarette and a beer. She did ask me if I started smoking again but who can afford to do that? There are many humidors here in town where I can get a Monte Christo #1 but they have become quite expensive.

I’ve been thinking about taking a trip pretty soon which put my daughter on tilt because I guess on any given day, I look like death on a biscuit. I would say cracker but I like biscuits better. Funny, there are two cars here, both are in great shape, and I haven’t put more than 300 miles on each of them in the past six months. My brother told me maybe I should trade them both in and get a car. I thought about that but when it comes time to do that, my daughter, who wants to go with me is unavailable. I don’t buy cars locally because car salesmen here are not only idiots, they are crude, rude and socially unacceptable. Dayna and I found a little dealership about 100 miles south of here and that’s where we bought the cars.

I generally feel like crap but as long as the numbers are alright, I guess all is right with the world. Dayna had diabetes to the point that she had to do insulin. I have diabetes to the point where my prescriptions are astro bucks. I can’t get them from Canada because they may not be safe but Walmart can get them from Dr. Reddy’s Laboratories Limited in Bachepalli India. I guess since it’s Walmart, I should feel secure but I can’t get them from a Canadian Pharmacy eh?

Politicians say that a majority of citizens believe the government will take care of them when they get old or sick. Well, when big business and big insurance companies bankrupt the old and sick, who do they have to turn to? We worked all our lives and when we needed our insurance when I got sick, the co-pays because of the out of network charges from the insurance company put us in bankruptcy. Then what do you do especially if you can’t work anymore?

It’s better to look good than feel good. What if you’re both? What if you look like crap and feel like crap? Should you not be allowed to leave your home? Now, I make no bones about it, I have handicap license plates for Dayna’s Jeep and a placard for my Dodge. I see a lot of people who have them simply because they are so fat, they can’t put one foot in front of the other. I guess when you get to a certain weight, you automatically get the benefits. I can’t count how many times security, the police or someone who is just being nosy has asked me why I have handicap plates on my car.

I tell my daughter it’s all because of the ‘blue card.’ The blue card gets me in and out of places where there’s metal detectors, through security, and in the handicap line at the DMV. The ‘blue card’ is my pacemaker card which means no metal detectors so here comes the wand. The ‘blue card’ also means that my shoes stay on because I can’t bend over to put them back on. But, as long as I look good, it doesn’t matter. As long as the numbers are alright, everything is fine.

Dayna’s numbers were alright except for her diabetes. She was high but under control with that injection stuff they advertise on TV. I remember when we went back east, the refrigerator had her insulin and it was running all the time. Yes, we had a refrigerator in the car along with a battery charging station complete with air compressor, lights, a power inverter so we could charge the cell phones if needed and a GPS called Matilda. We hated Matilda a lot because she detoured us through the south side of Chicago.

The moral of today’s post is “regardless of how you feel, look good when you leave home.” If you don’t, people will avoid you like the plague. Maybe though, that’s a good thing.

I have many lines I use but my absolute favorite was one that I used for twenty years in the classroom. At the end of each class, each seminar, each mini session or certificate program I taught I would say “if you learned one thing while taking my class, I did my job. If you had a good time learning that, I did my job well.” It was passion, not money that drove me to do a good job. I loved what I did so it wasn’t difficult for me to do my best and it showed.

Dayna loved digging in the dirt but as time went on, teaching became the more stable of jobs. Going from contract to contract was alright but, I think I inhibited her because I still have the knowledge, but not the drive anymore to keep teaching. That also came true when it came to moving and ‘being out in the field.’ Even with cell phones, Dayna would be in places where there was no cell service and I knew she would be waiting for the phone to ring. She also had supervisors that were inept when it came to procedures for land preservation because they were architects and not archaeologists. Dayna was the kind of person you would never tell she couldn’t do something because she’d do it to spite you and do it well.

We both loved intelligent movies especially ones done by black actors. A few of the memorable movies we saw that were intelligent were Kingdom Come, Barbershop and especially, This Christmas. Cederic the Entertainer had a wonderful line from Barbershop that described a lot of people today.

He said “But the problem with y’all cats today, is that you got no skill. No sense of history. And then, with a straight face, got the nerve to want to be somebody. Want somebody to respect you. But it takes respect to get respect. Understand? See, I’m old. But, Lord willing, I’d be spared the sight of seeing everything that we worked for flushed down the drain by someone who don’t know no better or care.

I think he took the long way around the barn by insinuating that people today want instant gratification and don’t give a damn how people worked to get them to the point where they are and don’t care about preserving the past. Now I’m not saying that everything should be a shrine to family but there are things that should be preserved for future generations. Today, when it comes to history, there are two types of people that I see. There are the Rick Dale people, and the Rick Harrison people.

The Rick Dale people will pay the money to ensure family history is restored, preserved and protected by taking items to him to be restored by his capable company. Then there are the people that want to sell their history for the buck so they can either pay the bills, or lose it at one of the many corporate casinos in the city of Las Vegas. Funny, that’s where both these gentlemen do business. Is one more right than the other? They both perform necessary tasks and love what they do so it’s up to the individuals who do business with them.

I know that when my mother died, thinking about all the time her and dad invested in me, I had no problem preserving their history for my children and now, my children’s children. You don’t know where you’re going unless you know where you’ve been. Just look at the economy today versus 1929. There are some that live high on the hog, and others just barely making it. The only thing missing is the bread lines. I’m hoping my job will be finished before I see that.

Look back in history with the Holy Wars and the Christians got their asses kicked and then there were Christians who were the main course for lions and lest we forget, the Crusades. We go to war a lot in the name of God and I wonder what he thinks about that. Yes, he said to spread the word but I don’t think he meant “you’d better believe the way the Christians do or they will start a war.” God is brought up in our government even though it was founded by people who escaped religious persecution. So that makes the United States a “Christian Nation?”

I’ve studied religion for many years and yes I believe in God because even though you can trace evolution all the way back to a certain point.. many think it’s the big bang theory but nobody can explain what caused that particle of dust or whatever it took to start it. I wonder if that was an “oh shit” moment for God. Remember, he screwed up once and had to rid the world of wickedness sparing Noah and his family along with the animals two by two. Yes, the flood was probably isolated to one area but it was destructive non the less.

It goes back to a question I asked awhile ago about the streets of Heaven being paved with gold. Once you’re gone, why would you need streets of gold, or virgins, or anything else? I know what I need once I go and it’s nothing tangible. I need the love I experienced from the person I experienced it from on earth. I pray those who have gone before me are alright on their journey where ever they are because with the exception of the ion scent I smell, signifying the presence of Dayna in my mind, there is no explanation as to what happens once you close your eyes for the last time.

I’m not interested in starting a war nor pushing my beliefs on others but I do answer questions when they are asked of me. Do I think Jesus died on the cross? Yes I do because there was evidence that Jesus walked the earth. Do I believe in the end of the world? Of course every beginning has an ending just like life, the cycle of a ship, clothes, and everything else.

Am I simplifying all of this? Probably, but I know I don’t want to end up like the fanatics who believe that if you don’t believe the way they do, you’re going to hell. Where’s the Christian value in that? Dayna proved me wrong when she passed as I felt her spirit hit me so hard that it almost knocked me off the chair. She’s here right now as I write this blog. What is she trying to tell me? I guess only she and God knows .

Who will be there when it’s my time to go? Well, if you think the end is like the book “The Five People you Meet in Heaven”, the answer would be my parents, my friend John, Dayna, and hopefully my niece. I know when I think of all five of them, I have this overwhelming sense of calm, then a maddening sense of grief. Guess I miss them a lot.

Not bad for a week but I still haven’t gotten the memo nor awoken to the point that grieving is over so no change there. Today, though, I thought about “what if”. This is a game I play all the time especially when it comes to computers and software. What if I do this instead of that. Most people who use computers frequently do this at least once in awhile. I thought about the first time I played the “what if” game and I traced it back to Wordstar. I do this so much that I even taught it in my classes. It works especially well when it comes to spreadsheets and word processors and doesn’t hurt when you use it in things like Photoshop. Playing the “what if” game can sometimes be rewarding but then again, it can be disastrous.

I told my students the worst that could happen is you’d have to unplug the computer and reboot it. (this was before holding down the power button) There were times when I called tech support when I played the game and locked up the computer. They use to look into the problem, fix the problem, and send me the updated version of the software. Now, they re-market it as an upgrade.

As I was lying in bed this morning, getting ready to watch Perry Mason, I thought about how the plans of last year would have to be changed if Dayna would have pulled through her heart attack. Instead of going to the Northwest, depending on how bypass went, we would probably head east to Missouri. Yes, Missouri to check out a University in Columbia where she wanted to go for her Ph.D.

Over the years, plans change as circumstances dictate but in many occasions, plans change because it’s inconvenient. This is another casualty of the “what if” game but taking my memories back even further, there are times when plans go forward regardless of circumstances. I remember my aunt coming in from work on the day of the cookout only to find the farm full of people. She took a minute to change and then joined everyone else for the rest of the day.

I remember my brother having to work on Christmas day a time or two but that didn’t damper the day because he came in late. We just adjusted things to include him when he got there. Today though, it doesn’t matter what people say because everything is up for interpretation. Doesn’t matter to some who’s toes they step on as long as they get what they want in the long run. Don’t believe me? Just take a look at what’s going on around you.

What if things in my situation would have been different? There would have been cleaning people in and out of the house along with private nurses and home health care because it was needed. Instead, there are boxes, disorganization, and second thoughts. The grill on the patio would be going with chicken on the rotisserie and other things cooking outside while we sat at the table watching the dawn of a new day. Instead, the table is in the box and the grill went back to the store while the courtyard looks better, but still no grass.

What if you woke up one morning and by the end of the day, your life would be totally different? You can’t just pull the plug, count to ten, plug yourself back in again and reboot. What if people were depending on you and you had to “change your plans” because what you were going to do benefited you and screwed someone else even after you gave your word? Interesting questions to ponder on a Friday the 13th.

Information about crucial things were rarely discussed in the house. We talked about things sure but when it came to particular things, Dayna refused to discuss them. Only after her passing did I see what and whom she had to deal with on a regular basis. Some of the characters involved even sickened me because of their response to what happened. One person, who Dayna argued with repeatedly with over the years she taught, was so “distraught” that she couldn’t teach the day it was announced.

Before Dayna’s father died, he told us to get a post hole digger and just dig a hole for him. Dayna told me that she wanted to be thrown in a hole and have an oak tree planted on her. I know the significance of the oak tree because it signifies knowledge but, there has to be some kind of place where people can go to know that Dayna actually walked the earth. She was trying to get some sort of family tree information together before she died and if there’s just a hole, nothing would signify she actually made a contribution to life, and boy did she.

My granddaughter knows that her Nana was “the witch of Las Vegas” and was proud to say it publicly. From her witch dress to her broom and witch shoes, Dayna believed what she professed and made no bones about and wouldn’t back away from anyone who wanted to dispute her. From the crystal hanging from the rear view mirror of the car to the dragons and Wizards all over the house, she would stand toe to toe with “soul winners” that would ring the doorbell. Her pentagram hanging from around her neck was only hidden while at school but once she got in her Jeep, it came out in public again.

I see all these people talk about “fearing God” and “fear this” and “fear that” and I keep thinking why should I fear someone who is supposed to love me and stand by me? Doesn’t make sense. Everyone that knew her knew she was deeply rooted in her faith and I took over watching the full moon after she died. She didn’t look down on anyone who didn’t believe what she did and she didn’t push any point on anyone unless they asked a question. Then she answered it.

There’s three cabinets of herbs in the house from when she created stuff like salves, anti-depressants, pain killers etc. Toward the end, all she wanted was a gypsy wagon so she could just climb on, and ride off into the sunset. So Dayna, through the emptiness inside of me, here’s your drawing of the gypsy wagon that you wanted. I hope that’s what you’re doing now. You know I work to get things done before the deadline so it’s early for Friday the 13th.

Some things people become ultra sensitive about but murdering the English language isn’t one of them. I never knew things could be funner. I was taught that something was more fun but I guess that’s one of those words that were secretly added to the dictionary when I was sleeping. After I went to the doctors today, I ran a couple of errands including the DMV and to a restaurant where they were hiring. Now, when I was looking for work in my youth, I remember putting on a dress shirt, tie, and if it was cold outside, my sport coat. Today, you’re lucky if someone applying for a job has their pants covering their ass.

When I talked to the doctor today, it was finally admitted that we’ve run out of road and exhausted everything so she used the term I hate the most; “it is what it is.” Of course it is! I was told many years ago that the heart is like a rubber band and one day, it’s going to be stretched to the point where it wouldn’t retract. Since I’m not in my 70s, rich, and a former Vice President, transplant is out of the question. She told me what was said to me a long time ago. “You’re too bad to ever work again but too good for a transplant.”

She asked me about how I was sleeping (which I’m not) and told me that I gained back a few of the pounds I lost when Dayna died. I laughed and told her that my daughter tries to get me to breakfast at least once a week to blow the dust off of me. She asked if I was still doing the gym to which I laughed almost hysterically.

The DMV is usually a nightmare. I remember when my father use to get license plates for his car. Every year he tried to get the house address and the lines weren’t usually very long. Since I have a wheelchair on my license plates, I get front of the line treatment so I’m in and out in less than a half hour. Since I didn’t have the title to the car with me, I couldn’t take Dayna off the registration but that was alright. I have a tough time taking her name off things because it seems to me, like I’m erasing her.

The doc asked me if I wanted anti-depressants, sleeping pills, or anything else so I settled on pain killers (the good stuff) for emergencies. There are nights that I go to bed and I’m so cold I can’t relax. I think it’s the beginning of the end. I wonder if you have to be politically correct even when you’re dying. When I was standing on the driveway, watching the full moon the other night, my inconsiderate neighbor came out, yelling his ghetto trash into his cell phone, saw me and spun around on his heels and went back into the house. Guess yelling at him in my underwear caused significant brain damage and wasn’t politically correct.

I remember when people were nice and considerate. When there was a party in the neighborhood, the neighbors understood the special occasion and the people throwing the party usually had things quiet at a reasonable time. Now, “I have my rights and you need to respect me” is the norm. Doesn’t matter about you and if you want to be left alone to sleep, watch television in peace or sit outside on a nice evening, your rights are secondary to the person or people who want to be disruptive.

Don’t believe me? Just look at the actions on some of the “reality shows” like Maury, The People’s Court not to mention shows like Jerry Springer. The new face of reality walks down the street, drives cars with bass so loud it rattles fenders, tries their best to look intimidating and are ready to mind your business better than you.

Politicians talk of entitlements putting programs like Medicare, Social Security in the spotlight. Too bad they don’t tell you that the folks using Medicare pay every month for that insurance and they’ve paid into Social Security for most of their working life. I told the insurance company once that having insurance is like playing the odds. They’re betting I’m not going to wreck the car and I’m betting that one day I will. Same holds true with Social Security and Medicare. They’re betting you’ll die before you collect and you’re betting the opposite. Regardless, if you don’t think like the others, you’re just wrong. I remember when times when there were nice people. Where did they go?

What would you do if someone outlined a path for you doing something you really like to do, with minimal risk and all you had to do is put forth the effort. Take this a little further because the person putting this offer on the table is someone you know, that has a track record of delivering on time, below budget and will go out of their way, even at personal and financial loss, to keep his word. How long would it take you to make a decision?

I’ve been thinking about things in the past including a lot of the work I’ve done in my career. There have been good things, bad things, horrible things and stupid things. I guess everyone does that from time to time but my mind keeps going back to one Friday in 1969. What a memorable year 1969 was with the first landing on the moon, Super Bowl III, Woodstock, John Lennon marrying Yoko Ono along with Paul McCartney marrying Linda Eastman. What a memorable year but my mind is drawn to the Friday after Thanksgiving in 1969. Why was this day so memorable?

It started out with my oldest brother coming to the parents house, picking me up and going out to look for a Christmas tree. It was the first year he was married and his wife wanted the Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving. Problem was, a real Christmas tree probably wouldn’t last til Christmas but it didn’t matter. So, my brother and I spent most of the day putting up a Christmas tree, drinking about a Case of Coke and finishing off his Thanksgiving turkey. I don’t think I’d ever eaten more than that in my life nor ever would.

Why was this day in 1969 so significant that I am thinking about it now? That’s an interesting question and I think the answer stems from holidays and food. My brother talks to me about the wonderful real Polish kielbasa my father use to make on Christmas. The ham, basted in beer for Christmas and Easter along with the Turkey with everything on Thanksgiving.

When times get difficult, I’ve noticed that many people cling to things they remember from their youth which made them happy. It could be a toy, a vending machine, car, old train set, bicycle or whatever. There’s where Rick Dale is the man for the job. He not only restores history, but also memories. As for me, I guess my memories lean back to my Pontiac GTO and some wonderful food. Every time I have a blood test, in order to take my mind off things, I go to my “happy place.” Two of my favorite happy places are being on the road back east with Dayna, and driving down the Florida beach in my Pontiac GTO. Guess a new happy place is the smell of wonderful food and living a carefree life which I had at one time, but not anymore.

Maybe more people should be fearless and happy like Rick Dale because regardless of the challenge, he seems to keep smiling through it. He also remembers where he was and what got him there. I know that from when he moved his shop to its new location and he showed the emotion when he padlocked the old place. The bigger you get, the more room you need. Now I guess, everything is nostalgia and what’s tangible here in the house will either be antiques, or become antiques soon enough.

I surround myself with people whom I think are smarter than I am, sit back and listen, formulate my opinions and never say I can’t do something. I think in my career, I’ve only said no once and that was to a project that was so far beyond my capabilities, I would have embarrassed myself to take it on.

Over the past six months, in many ways, I’ve felt like Forrest Gump. Just a square peg in a round hole trying to make some sense of things and desperately trying to move forward even if it’s just one step at a time. I keep busy by reworking my website (yes, I’m working on it), writing a proposal or two, reworking some graphics, and trying to fit in amongst human beings again.

When I came home from breakfast this afternoon, I sat down and looked at all the scanning I’ve done on Dayna’s family pictures since she’s died. I figure they will be packed up, sealed up and put away. Some statistics I’ve put together even surprised me. Since she’s died, I’ve scanned 1,762 pictures, created one 40 minute digital show complete with her favorite music and repaired 350 pictures. Most of the stuff I’ve been working on were damaged by water so badly that I’ve almost had to rebuild them. There is one on the website from that list where I did rebuild the side of the person’s face.

Six gallons of Kool-Aid later, I’ve determined that probably very few people will ever see these pictures again because I got very limited feedback from the DVD show I created before Christmas. Why do it you ask? Again, that answer is simple. Dayna wanted her family history preserved and probably didn’t know how to put that on the table so I would do it. She saw me rebuild a couple of pictures before she died and knew the amount of work involved was hours but it didn’t matter to me.

When I’m on the phone, I sit and work on a graphic because the website is a bit more complicated with all the style sheets, java packages and coding involved (yes, I still code the old fashion way). I find it relaxing and reflect on when I initially started working on HTML back in 1996. Dayna and I were sitting at my computer as I tried to figure out why the page didn’t look right only to find out that I was missing a bracket or quotation mark. Funny how things change over time.

I talked to my neighbor today when I was watering the courtyard. She was telling me about my other neighbor who lost her husband a couple weeks after Dayna died. She has a live in boyfriend already and is moving on. Funny how some can just move on and start over while others just get stuck. I think I’ve moved on, rebuilt, and otherwise changed things so much that I’ve just run out of energy. Just going to the bar and having hash with coffee some days is a struggle but like I was told today, I’m still in the grieving process. Am I supposed to wake up one day and everything be different or will I get a memo when the grieving process is over? Inquiring minds want to know!

The moon, since her passing, always seems to shine right on the courtyard. This is the same courtyard where just eight months ago was decided to become a haven for grass, outdoor living and a place for the grandchildren to roll around in the grass. Dayna and our granddaughter did that once and that’s what gave her the idea of real grass in the courtyard. Now for some of you closet readers, grass in the desert is not an easy proposition but she wanted to use zoysia grass because it’s supposed to grow anywhere.

That’s the reason why, a couple of weeks ago, nine bags of fertilizer came crashing down in the sidewalk of the courtyard and was spread out by my daughter. Liquid fertilizer has been used for the past two weeks on the grass and new shrubs which were planted last fall. Tonight, all of that will be put aside as I light a stick of incense, stand outside on the driveway behind the Jeep she so loved, look up at the moon and hopefully catch a glimpse of my Dayna dancing.

The wind has been blowing hard the past couple of days and I’ve felt her presence more and more since I decided to go out and face the world once again. When I went to the County Assessor yesterday to take care of some business, they handed me a slip for a tax credit on my car’s license plates virtually cutting the renewal cost in half this year. Guess she doesn’t want me to sell the Gold Durango.

I took my car to the garage yesterday to get it smogged (which has to be done annually here) and the mechanic was impressed on how good the car was for being twelve years old. After that was done, I went home, got into the Jeep, started it up and did the afternoon’s business with no problems. Every time I decide to do something, if I’m not supposed to do it, the message is loud and clear.

Dayna was taken care of six months ago under the light of the full moon. I made sure the funeral director told me the time when this took place and it was when the moon was at its highest point in the sky. He told me that these things happen in the middle of the night so it won’t disturb the neighbors or business’ around them which made sense.

Dayna and I were very public people who were not afraid to face the challenges of life but when the day was done, we wanted to close the door and be left alone. We didn’t care about what other people listened to, what language they spoke, of what they wanted as long as they left us alone. Later on in life, it seemed as though everyone else s rights superseded ours. We had to pay the high dollar in order for her to open the garage door, pull the Jeep inside, push a button to close it and shut out the world. Just like with the cost of the trip to New York in 2010, it was worth it because nothing was too good for Dayna.

Tonight, once again, I will light a stick of incense, stand behind the Jeep, look to the sky to watch the light of the moon illuminate the darkness, tear up a bit and hope that Dayna is finally at peace and knows how much she is loved and how her not being here has left such a hole that can never be filled.

Thinking about the road I’ve traveled, I’ve noticed it’s almost deserted because 99% of the people I was traveling with are now gone. Whether it be from cancer, car accidents. suicide, or heart attacks, most of them are gone. I’m not talking about people who were stupid in life, I’m talking about the risk takers like myself that refused to settle for status quo.

We were the people who gambled on business, fought in the wars, played music, had the wanderlust to not settle but keep looking for something different, exciting, a new challenge. Did we challenge ourselves throughout life? One of my friends was a Purple Heart recipient along with winning the Combat Infantry Badge and the Bronze Star with the V for Valor device. Another friend loved Reggie music so he composed and played in a band. Others went into business for themselves while a couple more searched daily for new challenges.

The common denominator in this story is that they refused to settle and always looked for new challenges. Whether it be the monthly poker game where the cigar smoke made the place look like it was on fire to the midnight sandwiches at Denny’s, my friends and I loved a challenge. Maybe that’s why Dayna and I were a great dynamic. She challenged herself with knowledge and her religion not worrying about what anyone thought or said about either. She would stand toe to toe with you and argue a point when she knew she was right and was not afraid to say “I don’t know” when others were dancing around the answer.

My friends and I made a difference in the world by not settling for second best. My friend John, late in his life, looked at me and said “I’m a homeless guy with an apartment.” He then asked me if all the risks I took in life were worth it. My response was quick when I asked it the risks he took in life were worth it because his were greater than mine. He smiled, looked at me and said “let’s get some coffee.” That was the last we spoke of the subject.

Mom told me many times that I’ve seen death in ever way shape and form. Saddened me that I wasn’t there when she left but I think of her and dad often. When we went on our trip to New York, I stopped and saw them remembering what she told me after dad died. “When the grass grows over the grave, he’s at peace.” The grass was so green I was envious because we couldn’t get it that lush at the house when they lived. Guess everything is right with them.

Dayna cried everyday for two years after her father died. She cried everyday after our son went into the Army. She knew that he had grown up and was having a hard time knowing that he had gone from boy to adult. She missed the every Sunday dinners with her father and having to endure six hours of golf on television. I smile every time I think about him and remember what I said to him when he had his stroke. After seeing the odometer on his car, I told him that “I would have left you alone if I’d known you had a life.” He didn’t say anything but just laid there, smiling at me.

Would I have done things differently if I had the chance? Maybe I would have gone into a different profession but I liked traveling the road I went down. Yes, it’s not as smooth as what some others were but I don’t think I could handle the boredom of status quo. I can sit back and think about my friends and the contributions they made and the impressions they left. I can think fondly of my parents, niece, and Dayna knowing they are there.

Sometimes taking a risk yields great rewards and sometimes, great disappointment. Whether it good or bad, if one doesn’t take a risk from time to time, you won’t know the agony of defeat or the sweetness of victory. Remember, you can’t take it with you except for your memories. How many memories can you have if you just go through the motions?

Over the past six months, people have been giving me advice. The advice is well meaning I’m sure but I think I’m much different than others because I look at life and circumstances differently. Maybe I need to elaborate here. Think for a second, is there one thing in life that is totally yours, nobody else s, yours and yours alone. Something that you couldn’t live without, cherish, take care of, protect at all costs and smile every time you think about it. I’ll come back to that because I’ve decided to take some of the advice which was given me over the past six months.

Yesterday was an eventful day. I have to renew the registration on the Gold Durango so instead, I decided to see what the all mighty CarMax would give me if I decided to sell it. Now mind you, I’m not stupid when it comes to business and I totally researched the Kelly Blue Book on the car. Just for giggles, I thought I’d give them a crack at the car and they said the following ” Low miles for Model Year. Vehicle is well maintained Great Options on Vehicle”. In other words, my car is a great car (including the headers, flowmaster exhaust, K&M speed equipment and the R/T package). Their price was one half the blue book value of the car even though it’s a great car according to them.

In order to get over my depression and disappointment from that totally unsatisfactory experience with the Gold Durango, I decided once again to take another person’s advice and actually go out to have a decent meal (other than Burger King.) I went to the bar which I had breakfast last Sunday because it was steak night. I was seated in the back so I could overlook the entire establishment and ordered my steak, more on the well side than medium. I had a diet carbonated beverage and waited for my dinner. All of a sudden, I was overcome with so much depression I could hardly contain myself. I got through dinner but was disappointed with how the experience was, paid for the ordeal and made my way out of the restaurant on the verge of screaming.

It was then that I realized, totally realized that I was broken beyond repair. Physically I knew that the best I could do was maintain but emotionally, I was rock solid. I had lost the one thing that was totally mine, nobody else s. I lost the one thing that got me out of bed in the morning, motivated me to be creative, moved me forward one step at a time and made sure I wouldn’t physically crap out on her because I was totally hers. I got into the Jeep, looked at her ID badge from work staring at me with that “you’re driving my car look” and just sat there, in a parking lot.

I retreated behind the doors of the house much like Willie Wonka did when Slugworth was trying to get all his prized recipes vowing to never open his factory again. This morning, once again, I was disturbed by my inconsiderate renters of neighbors. They live a house away from me (there’s a lot between my house and theirs) but they insist on standing at the corner of my house and talk they’re still in the ghetto. After I looked out the window and told them to go back where they belonged, I settled back down in bed to watch Perry Mason.

When the phone rings, it’s sometimes pleasant, sometimes depressing, sometimes annoying and sometimes makes me smile. The business of life goes on regardless if I open the door and go out or if I stay inside. One thing is certain, my other neighbor is absolutely correct when she said it would never get easier. There are moments that it seems easier but there isn’t a minute that goes by when I don’t think of what I lost and not a day goes by when I don’t at least cry a little.

Guess I have to go out once in awhile to blow the dust off of me or else the kid will have the fire department break down the door. Or worse, she’ll come in screaming to make sure I know she’s here. You know how annoying that is when you’re watching Perry Mason?

The title of this post is from the song “Try to Remember” from the musical “The Fantasticks”, one of the plays I worked on while in high school. There are times I miss the theater and I will always remember when I took my daughter to the theater for the first time. We saw a play that was directed by a brilliant man whom I had the pleasure of working with in my youth. The play we saw was Brigadoon and it was directed by a wonderful Toledoan named Robert Stucker. It was he that directed a couple of plays I worked on in high school and the Fantasticks was one of them.

As my brother and I talked, he spoke of kielbasa, good Polish kielbasa right from the butcher and not from the grocery store. Made me remember some tremendous Polish wedding receptions I’ve attended throughout life. Now, if you go to the store looking for such a delicacy, they point you to the pre-packaged stuff which is an insult to the pallet after you’ve had real Polish kielbasa. Made me think of Christmas morning when that smell woke me up.

I also thought this morning about why I write this dribble and the answer came to me in an instant. My mother use to call the kids every week. She called it “cheaper than a psychiatrist.” Myself, I don’t like phones much because in my career, I had a phone stuck in my ear most times when I wasn’t in a classroom. The only release was the race track on Friday night and the donut shop at 2am. Dayna took care of the phone business and I went about my business of trying to come up with the next great idea or learning some new software package before I had to teach it.

We appreciated things more because we had to work for what we wanted. I remember Kevin Spacey saying that he had to work all summer for an 8 track player and a kid saying that he felt sorry for him. My brothers and I bought our cars, paid for our own booze, paid for our cigarettes (or cigars), raised our children the best we could and sacrificed when he had to.

We stood there and endured the wrath of the parents, accepted the grades we earned and blamed nobody but ourselves for our shortcomings. We prayed like we were taught, gave our nickels for the “pagan babies” (which Dayna wanted to sue the church for her share of those nickels), wore a tie to church on Sunday and instilled what was taught to us in our children. There is only so far one can go before its time to sit back and remember the fires of September.

There has been the standard roadblock in this house ever since Dayna and I moved to Las Vegas and that’s “where do you want to go for dinner.” Now remember folks, I live in a place where people save for a year to come. There are thousands of restaurants here ranging from Emril’s Restaurant, Gordon Ramsey and other Master Chefs down to IHOP and McDonalds. It’s not easy to come up with a place sometimes and now it’s even harder because there are places I will never step into again. Those were places where Dayna and I went, to be alone and have a good meal and some conversation. Those days are now gone and gone forever.

I told my brother today that I took my grand kids to one of the local bars in town. He laughed and told me that our father would never die because his kids still take their kids to the bar just like my father did. Now, there’s no denying that I’m a lot Irish but I have a lot of German in me too. I know all those Irish cliche’s and my favorite is “God invented whiskey so the Irish wouldn’t rule the world.”

As I lie in bed in the mornings, thinking of a reason to get out of bed, the blog isn’t the most important of things but sometimes the slightest reason is reason enough. When winter creeps up on one’s life, it’s nice to look back at fonder times even though some of the fond times were peppered with some yelling. Thinking about that house which stood and still stands in Toledo that housed a family comes to mind and taking Dayna to the corner roast beef place brings a smile to my face. For me, it was a wonderful trip down memory lane. For Dayna, it was a religious experience. Now for me, it’s one of my fondest memories deep in December.

William Hurt who probably had experienced life more than the rest of the group made that prolific statement that “we’re all alone out there and tomorrow we’re going out there again.” There is no help, there is nothing but everyone for themselves. There are many things out there that are done out of a sense of ‘duty’ or ‘guilt’ but I haven’t seen much done just because it’s the right thing to do.

I was thinking this morning after I left the bar about what people believe in and how they pray. These things make me think a lot about practices and not faith. Thinking a little further because I was on a coffee buzz (it was hangover coffee this morning), many Christians believe that if you don’t believe what they believe, you’re doomed to a fiery afterlife of misery. Wouldn’t that be called earth? I believe in God but I believe in a merciful God who not only looks at belief but in prayer, actions, and especially love.

If I believed like some do that “if you don’t believe in what I believe, you’re going to hell”, I think I’d be as crazy as they are. I pray every night for my family both here and not here. I pray for my wife, my children, my grandchildren, my friends and others but I don’t believe that if I don’t toe the Christian line, I’m going to hell. Makes no sense to me at all. In other words, if I’m like someone I know who professes to be a Christian and lies, screws people over, doesn’t pay his bills, swears like a sailor, has no regard for anyone but himself but I believe in God, all is good.

Today, I got up alone, got dressed alone, got into my truck alone, drove to the bar alone, had breakfast with the kids then got back in my truck alone and came home alone. Tomorrow, I’m going to do the same thing minus going to the bar. Who did I meet at the bar this morning for breakfast? I guess a bunch of other heathens who believe in different things.

One thing I believe is that I will not be judged by my actions on earth. I will be judged on how I used the gifts I was given, dealt with the adversity I received, raised my children to be good people, how I instilled values in people and how much I doubted my God when bad things happened. I never doubted my God when things happened, even when Dayna died but we are at odds a bit.

I told my daughter that it didn’t matter what or who she had faith in as long as she had faith. Faith can be in a multitude of things including God but you can have faith in yourself, your children, your situation, your decisions etc. If you don’t have faith, you have nothing. She found out like I did that when the chips are down and your back is against the wall, the only person you can rely on is yourself. That’s why I have so much equipment here. If I couldn’t do it myself, I couldn’t guarantee the outcome and I take responsibility for all my work. Unheard of in this day and age.

Wise up folks. We’re all alone out there and tomorrow we’re going out there again. Truer words were never spoken and they were spoken twenty nine years ago. Guess the me generation was in full swing then and it still carries over to this day. One last thing before my ranting is through. I was told today that jukeboxes, the new PlayStation, all have to be hooked up to the Internet 24/7. I wonder what the “me generation” would do if suddenly there was no bandwidth and everything they have come to rely on didn’t work anymore. No more cell phones, no more Internet, no more IPods, no more anything that relies on bandwidth like “pay at the pump” or ATM’s. What a horrifying thought. (chuckle)

Faith can move mountains so as Cleavon Little said in Blazing Saddles. “Keep the faith brothers and sisters.”

Today is one of those days when I just want to disappear, forget and be forgotten. All my friends are gone. Every one has died long before their time. My beloved Dayna is gone, long before her time so I guess I’m the last man standing. I told my daughter the other day that there are specific things I do because I need a reason to get out of bed.

Now I can’t take the blame for losing all my friends and Dayna because I had no hand in that but I can and do take the blame for my situation. Confused, broken and unable to face the world anymore, I spend my days thinking about what the next move is going to be. The phone’s not ringing anymore because I believe there isn’t a person or company out there that thinks I can finish a project because of health. Too bad for one thing yet too good for another. That’s the way it’s been since Dayna told me to stop working.

My daughter comes over and talks to me about projects I’ve done in the past, how to do this, how to do that but even when I’m around a restaurant full of people, I’m alone. Now, I’ve never had a problem being alone but Al Pacino’s monologue from Devils Advocate along with Topol’s line from Fiddler on the Roof about God being bored and God being the ultimate prankster comes to the forefront.

My mother went on over 12 years without my father and my grandmothers went on a long time without my grandfathers and I can’t figure out how they didn’t go nuts. My mother had church on Sundays but not much else during the week. She never drove and loved her trash novels. I drive but am unsteady on long trips. Right now, I can talk myself in and out of a dozen things ranging from what to do with the cars to packing things up in the house. Problem is, I don’t want to do any of them.

When Dayna died, I scrapped everything I was working on. From her website to the gypsy wagon and school, everything is in a folder and I swore I would never develop it again. There are some pictures on my website that I’ve restored but writing seems to be a struggle especially since I got admonished by a local Judge and my original blog was ordered down. I never thought, in my wildest dream that a Judge would violate my first amendment right but in order to not pursue things further, it came down.

The next move is difficult because there is nobody to consult with. All my friends have passed away, my wife, who boasted that the women in her family lived into their eighty’s (except her mother who passed away at 71), died at 57. As days go by, it seems as though I’m almost paralyzed because where their use to be a path, is now gone. Now I know what my mother faced after my father died but in her case, they built their lives so all she had to actually do was clear out the closet, sell dad’s car and do a few minor things. Most of her future would be emotional.

In my case, the house looks like its right out of Practical Magic. I remember Dayna telling everyone that I bought her a house and it was her house. As I water the courtyard a couple of times every other day, I can see some sprouts in the grass and the bushes look like they’re greening up. It’s still difficult to go out there and just as difficult to get behind the wheel of her car.

Confused and broken is a sensation I’ve known before but I knew I would recover. I’m not that optimistic about it now. It’s coming up on six months and some days it seems like yesterday and others seem like an eternity. Maybe a door will open but today, finally, the soul winners got the hint because not a one showed up at the door. Last week, I got a “personal invitation from Jesus” to go to a certain church. Sorry, not interested in church because my church is just out the door. I still don’t need walls to appreciate what God built and what Dayna loved. I look at the moon all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

What makes today any different than the past? Think hard about things and the answers will come to you. Today, we have become impersonal as we text, cyber, facebook and otherwise avoid human contact at all cost. The dictionary is full of new words like “cyber bullying”, “LMAO” and other colorful metaphors because not only is there no accountability in the world today, there’s no interaction. We have virtual schools, virtual reality, fantasy sports leagues, texting, and now cyber bullying. How much we have evolved from “I’m going to kick your ass after school.”

Now, we have to have metal detectors at school because kids bring guns, knives, whatever they need to either feel secure or become a bully. Today’s hottest shows are reality because they are cheap to produce and people love to see the misfortunes and idiocy of others. Don’t believe me? Just look at two of my favorite idiot shows; Hardcore Pawn and Pawn Stars. Now, I know that Pawn Stars is a bit fake but I’ve lived outside of Detroit in my lifetime and I’ve seen people act like they do at American Jewelry and Loan. People either love to see greed or misery plus, when you add some stupidity into it, then you have lunacy like Operation Repo and Lizard Lick Towing. All this garbage makes Jerry Springer tame by comparison but if you think a little further, he was the start of this. No wonder Phil Donahue and Sally Jessie Raphael called it quits. Afternoon soap operas which my mother watched religiously (well, One Life to Live and General Hospital) have been replaced by talk shows. Everyone from Dr.Oz to Maury Povich bring reality right to you.

Funny, after Dayna and I watched the movie Galaxy Quest and heard that the Thermians believed Gilligans Island was real, she looked at me and said “if anything is flying around out there, they wouldn’t dare invade here, the sound waves confirm the stupidity in the world.” We have to be insulated from everything. When I was younger, the Vietnam War was plastered all over the television everyday from correspondents like Walter Cronkite brought the fighting to the living room in living color. We have to be insulated from nasty things like that today because it may offend someone but we can watch cheaply produced “reality shows” depicting people at each others throats, bleeping every other word, or using one of my favorite lines, “I’m not scared of you.”

We can kill anything we want on a video game that’s as close to reality as reality can get but we have to take words out of textbooks because it may “offend” people. We have programs to help us raise our kids because we either don’t have the time or are too stupid to raise our own kids. Parents can simply throw up their hands and walk away leaving kids twist in the wind or chose to “lose their parental rights” only to step back in when the kid turns eighteen. I’ve heard, that in some cases, you don’t have to serve out your commitment in the military if you don’t like it, you just write a letter saying that you want to leave.

Fine example of accountability today and then everyone scratches their head and wonders why bullying has gotten out of hand. You can’t correct your children in public because someone will call Child Protective Services and you have to hire a lawyer. What a wonderful world this is. Sorry Hillary, it doesn’t take a village to raise a child, it takes parents that are on the same page and parents who are willing to get involved. Worked in past generations and the ones who didn’t heed their parents often suffered the consequences. Yes, it was like Leave it to Beaver in some aspects but not all kids were as inept as Beaver.

The title today is from the 1974 movie “Blazing Saddles.” Pity that the dialog that was acceptable in 1974 is no longer acceptable today. Guess everyone cares about being so politically correct that they lost sight of what they really need to do. What do people need to do you ask? Lee Marvin said it “you don’t love thy neighbor as yourself. You leave the bastard alone.” People need to take care of their own business, be accountable for their own actions and those of their kids before sticking their nose into others business.

Glad I don’t worry about others misfortunes but I still worry about family. There’s help available for those in need but I’m too worn out and I’ve given away too much over the years to continue. Maybe some of you “cyber bullies” will get a clue and use your technology for something good instead of picking on someone who you think is different than you. Yep, if you don’t believe what I believe, you’re wrong! That’s the way of the world today. Personally, I like to listen to others points of view.

Once line in Batman Begins stood out in my morning attempt to get motivated and plant my feet on the floor and it was the title of this posting. If anything got me thinking, that line certainly comes to mind. What were we given throughout our lives and what did we do to nurture what we were given?

When we are born, we are given a name and throughout our formidable years, we are either taught values or survival depending on the teacher. One of the biggest things I was taught was that regardless of the circumstances, the family stood together and anything outside the family was dealt with but there was an “internal” bout when the dust settled. My brothers and I were our father’s sons, our mother’s sons and were expected to act accordingly. I don’t think I ever heard “my son wouldn’t do that” from either one of my parents. My father never reacted much but when he did, you know he’d had enough.

There were many an evening that I’d sit on the back steps with my father, both of us smoking a cigarette and a beer in hand, just looking around. When I asked his advice on one thing or another the answer was swift and directly to the point when he said “I don’t know.” I found out later that he didn’t want to be blamed if he gave his opinion and it didn’t work plus, it was his way of saying “figure it out.” Now I can’t say I’ve been a good steward of the family name because I’ve done things that have made my parents cringe but, there came a time when I saw the road that I was on was not the right one. Would it be too difficult to change?

I equate the changing I did in the late 1980s like driving down the highway at 90 miles per hour only to throw my car into reverse. At that time, the only thing I didn’t stop was smoking because “everyone needs at least one vice.” What was the gain from the actions I took? Well, it took almost twenty years in order to be believed by the family but I associated myself with people who could not only help me but encourage me to keep moving forward.

Since Dayna’s death, all I’ve heard is that “you should get away for awhile, you should relax, you should this, you should that.” Seems as though everyone is out for themselves and this is probably what’s wrong today. Politicians talk about their “public service” which means don’t look while we line our pockets. When my father-in-law had a stroke, he pleaded with me to take care of his affairs and straighten things out. This came at great damage not only to Dayna and I but to the entire family. In the end, things got worked out only because he knew the end would settle things.

People today have to think about what’s in a name. I get calls at least once a week from collection agencies looking for a guy named Alan and someone with my name. Problem is, the person with my name is 32 years old and I laugh everytime they call. The only thing you get when you’re born is a name. It’s up to you what you do with the name. Republicans think putting someone’s name on everything is an endearing thing and they may be correct. While thinking about that, think about what the Navy will do with the U.S.S. John F. Kennedy which now sits in Philadelphia. Wouldn’t scrapping a ship named after “American Royalty” be almost blasphemous?

Instead of the ‘religious right’ asking “What would Jesus do”, they should think about “what would mom and dad do?” If everyone took their name seriously and safeguarded it like their ancestors before them, maybe this world could be a little better place. Ahhh utopia, the solutions are simple, the implementation is a little more difficult.

As I watch movies like that I think that all of life is one risk after another. Think about things for a second especially when you look at things like insurance. We have all sorts of insurance from life to auto to home to flood to accident and everything in between. If you can’t afford insurance, then you’re playing the odds. In most cases, you are required to purchase insurance like in the instance of owning an automobile and you must have homeowners insurance if you have a mortgage on your property. What happens though when the insurance companies try to change the rules in the middle of the game?

Back in 1998, we had hospitalization insurance on the kids, Dayna and myself. Dayna got sick, went into the hospital, had surgery and recovered. Our insurance paid the bill and we owed nothing. That’s what we paid insurance premiums for every month. Fast forward to 2001. I get sick, Dayna calls 911 and the fire department and ambulance were dispatched to the house. I went to the hospital, had angioplasty, recovered and went home. Same insurance, same company. Co-pays were $30,200.00. What was the difference?

Supposedly, I was supposed to wake up, sit up on the gurney, and demand to be taken to a preferred provider hospital 58 miles away. The hospital I went to was a preferred provider, but nobody in the hospital was. The ambulance which was dispatched by the city? Not a preferred provider. What’s the difference between preferred provider and out of network? In our case, the insurance paid 70% of THEIR customary charges which amounted to about 30% of the bill leaving Dayna and I on the hook for the rest.

Fast forward to 2011. Dayna gets sick, goes to the hospital, has angioplasty, spends four days in Intensive Care and is hooked up to all the drugs she didn’t want to do in the 70s. Total cost of the hospital including emergency room, five hundred thirty two thousand dollars. ($532,000.00). Co-pays on the part of Dayna’s estate were roughly 2.000.00. Tell me there isn’t a need for insurance reform in this country.

Now what happens if you play the odds and don’t have insurance? The county can deem that you can’t afford the bill and step in to pay it or, you can file bankruptcy on the bills and a judge will make them go away or just choose to ignore them but the phone will keep ringing until it becomes annoying.

Everything we do is a gamble but in most states, gambling is illegal. Most things we do, we get screwed and yet prostitution is illegal. Want to roll the dice and figure out how to pay off the debt of this country? Gamble on making health care a “not for profit” operation and see how streamlined things can become. Don’t let healthcare costs be determined by what the shareholders expect and maybe make gambling and prostitution legal while taxing the hell out of it.

Hmmm… maybe I should run for President. Not for profit health care and if we’re going to gamble, make it legal. We’re going to get screwed anyway too so make that legal. Can you imagine the tax revenue on that?

Wizzard for President!!!

I had a conversation with my brother recently and I equated Dayna’s and my life like a department store. People come in and out of our department store (lives) and we stock memories, protecting them and thinking about them. When two people marry, they merge their stores together but still have an independent floor or two of life before the other. Seems normal until disaster strikes.

Back in 2001, my department store caught fire and it was a devastating one. The stability of my department store (life) was put into a precarious balance so, I merged everything with Dayna’s because hers was still strong. This is what’s called “putting ones eggs in one basket.” That seemed to work out well because as time went by, I had to give up more and more like my career, working in the yard, walking extended lengths, and other things. Our department store was ours until it happened.

Smoldering some days before, wisps of problems were starting to emerge in our life. The slower I walked, the harder it was for Dayna to walk until she told me that she thought she pinched a nerve in her neck and her arm hurt. I didn’t think a whole lot about it because she had broken her arm in January but I told her to call the chiropractor. She came out of the bathroom and that’s when the fire broke out and it was a smoky one. She called the doctor and we were told to get to the hospital which we did without delay. That’s when the fire fighters entered our department store.

It almost seemed like they opened a window or something to ventilate because when they did that, the fire erupted so violently, it was a mad scramble to try to get things back under control. To me, it seemed like I was standing across the street, watching everything Dayna and I built, burn out of control. Everything was turning into black ash as the devastation tore through our lives. It almost seemed like the electrical fire depicted in the 1974 movie Towering Inferno because there was fires everywhere. One thing start coming under control, then another fire erupted.

The crowds started to swarm gawking at the tragedy unfolding around us but everything we tried to put out this massive fire didn’t work. Our department store called our life was starting to crumble under the massive inferno that was engulfing us. No matter how decisive, no matter what, the structure of our lives was failing and failing fast. Everything was torn open, exposed for everyone to see and decisions had to be made in order to salvage what we could from our lives.

When the structure collapsed, everything that was blackened in this fire turned to dust and what was used to try and save this department store flowed through what was left of our massive structure. As I stood across the street, still in shock by the events and in total disbelief, reality had set in finally. Everything after that becomes a ‘salvage operation.’ Soon enough, everything will be tagged, family history will be boxed up and put away while everything else is sold to the highest bidder.

Legalities completed, case closed and all that’s left from the life that is no longer around is memories that will fade along with some pictures that will fade also. Reality at its finest

Fixing things use to be fun but today was a bit odd for me because today was the day to finish Dayna’s courtyard. She put in the grass plugs a mere two days before her fatal heart attack and the bushes were planted at the same time. Today, nine bags on Miracle Grow top soil and a bag of fill dirt along with Miracle Grow for the sprayer came into her courtyard in order to feed the plants for the spring.

As my daughter swept the sidewalk and patio, the wind picked up almost to say, “don’t sweep the crap out of the gate.” When she said that everything was going into the trash bag, the wind calmed down a bit. Today was another revelation for me. The days of lifting heavy things are over. Picking up a couple of bags of Miracle Grow made me tired almost immediately and my daughter said that I turned as white as a ghost.

When I got the third set of two bags onto the sidewalk inside the courtyard, I figured it was time to sit down and let my daughter open it up, spread it out, water and fertilize the grass plugs and bushes. All I could see as I looked through the screen door to the courtyard was Dayna sitting in her chair, barking that my daughter was doing it wrong. Of course, my daughter did the courtyard like I suggested and the work was minimal but everything about today screamed Dayna.

My son-in-law and daughter said the same thing because when they went to breakfast, they noticed chili-cheese omelets on the menu and immediately knew it was Dayna’s favorite. I was lying in bed this morning thinking about the night at the emergency room when we figured out the future with Dayna not working anymore and her asking me if the “drama show” was coming (my daughter).

I took my car out this evening to meet up with the kids for dinner at Ci Ci’s Pizza. On the line was the BBQ pizza, Dayna’s favorite and I could see her justifying the cinnamon roll for dessert as she smiled. Listening to my granddaughter tell me about her weekend, I could see Dayna sitting right next to her listening intently to every word the seven year old said.

Dayna knew that Duct Tape, WD40 and a pair of vice grips could fix about 90% of the broken things people come upon. The other 10% I guess either required a professional or wasn’t worth fixing. The courtyard looks much better this evening with the soil nice and dark, the low spots now level, the patio cleaned from leaves left over from the winter that lasts about a week in the desert and with the sky sprinkling this evening, maybe things will turn green in a little while.

When I think of a well rounded career, I don’t have to think any farther than my beloved wife. She did everything from owning a bar to digging in the dirt. She worked for many interesting entities including some consultation with the FBI and the City of El Paso Texas. Just like with Clint Eastwood’s career, Dayna has worn many hats and done many things in life. Hopefully her courtyard will blossom the way she wanted it to so our granddaughter can lie in the grass and look to the sky.

Hopefully, Nana will be watching and smiling.

There isn’t anything Monte wouldn’t do as long as it was from the back of a horse and his ambition was to ride from Texas to Canada and back, getting paid along the way. We all aspire for better along the way or at least something stable that we can hold onto but that seems to be as dying of a thought as the cowboys coming into the 20th century.

I have a great many memories. Some good ones, some bad ones but my favorite is driving my Pontiac GTO down Jacksonville Beach on the sand with the windows down, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the water against my tires. There were a great many times over the years including family cook-outs, my children coming into the world, the completion of an impossible job, a cold beer right after cutting the grass on a hot day, painting the garage with my brothers, my father washing down five quarts of oil from the driveway and the sound of my mother asking “who’s the idiot that washed the oil down the driveway” just as my father rounded the corner with the hose.

There have been equal days of not so good memories. My mother told me that I’ve seen death in just about every form known to man. I’ve seen people flying over cars at high speed, aircraft ejection seats fire inside a hanger with someone in it, peaceful passing’s, people dying from being shot, overdoses, and just plain worn out people.

It’s all the experiences that make up the fabric of a person and in the end, we all have to take the best we can get. For some, it’s prosperity and good fortune while others just struggle to get out of bed in the morning. An old man told me once that “it’s not how much dignity there is in the job, but how much dignity you bring to the job.”

Some memories are still vivid to this day like my father asking me to go to the cemetery to look at the stone he purchased for his final resting place and to tell him what I thought about it. Some are clouded because of the pain involved while some are just filed away in the cabinet called the brain. We all have to take the best we get but that doesn’t mean we stop trying. For some, there are people that depend on us and for others, they depend on people so, in just about ever case, everyone is dependent on someone or someone is depending on them.

In my career as a teacher, I only failed to deliver once and apparently, there was a riot at the administration office. My excuse was a good one though because I was in the intensive care unit of the hospital but even after I was told I’d never work again, I still tried hard enough to go back for more. After three years of trying though, Dayna convinced me that it was finally over and to either do something else or call it quits.

We looked forward to our grandchildren and when our first granddaughter was born, Dayna was the first one there to hold her. I knew to stay out of her way when it came to things like that. She had visions of baking cookies with her, playing with her but also making sure she was tough enough to handle life as it came at her. Last year, I told our granddaughter that Halloween was Nana’s favorite time of the year even though the house looked like Halloween all year. It was then that Nana could eat little children.

Dayna decided to run with the idea and was going to make gingerbread cookies with our granddaughter so they could eat little children at Halloween. A memory in concept but unrealized. She told me once that she thought it interesting that when we really needed something, it happened but if we could do without it, no matter how hard we tried, it wasn’t going to materialize. She didn’t want to work at teaching public school anymore and I guess she really needed to get out of it because on that cold October morning, just before the full moon of Samhain, that request was realized.

The road was always our friend and every chance we got, the car was gone and a new memory was in its infancy. Now, as time goes by, I have to take the best I can get and all that’s left are the memories. As I close my eyes, I can still see myself driving down the beach in my GTO on a summers evening in the mid 1970s.

Every now and then, since Dayna died, I go out to see if I’m still fit to interact with the general public. Yesterday was one of the days when I needed to get some business done and I decided to have a meal at one of the Casino’s here in Vegas. I went to the doctor because of a prescription problem with the insurance company’s pharmacy and it was taken care of by my doctor. My doctor was surprised to see me and I smiled, thanked her, and went on my way.

From there I went to the bank to cash a couple of checks I’d received from my credit card companies for one thing or another. It wasn’t much but I figured that it would be good gambling money if I felt like it when I was done with lunch. After stopping at the mailbox to mail off some payments, I went to lunch at the buffet because I’ve had this fifty year love affair with ham and the buffet has it.

Even though I hadn’t had lunch at the buffet in over a year, the waitress remembered Dayna and I because we looked so good together and tipped well (according to her). I thought, it does pay to tip well in Vegas and went about getting my lunch which included, ham. As I sat eating, I watched other people with their spouses and/or kids having lunch themselves. What I saw made me want to go back home, close the doors, lock the garage and get home delivery of everything.

The older folks there were dressed either like I was or a little better. Yesterday, I was wearing a blue dress shirt and a pair of jeans with my usual black tennis shoes. Nothing special but certainly presentable. Some of the younger folks there, the ones with children who should have been in school but I figured that it was an educational experience for their children to experience Las Vegas in its splendor, were wearing anything from sweats to pajamas. I guess fashion has gone out of style when one is out in public.

My mother told me that you never know who you’re going to run into when you’re out so remember two things; first, always have a dime in your pocket so you can call home (this was before cell phones, go figure); and second, act like someone is watching because somebody probably is. Dayna liked to wear dresses when she went out. She said they were comfortable and quite frankly, Dayna was a looker when she wanted to be. The older folks at the casino had manners like using napkins, saying things like please and thank you and were generally doing what they set out to do, have lunch.

The younger folks though, the ones that were wearing sweats and pajamas, were more interested in putting on a show (like there aren’t enough shows in Vegas). Some of the women who had no business being in sweats, were loud, obnoxious, and when you looked at them glared back at you saying “what are you looking at?” exclamation. Yes, that did happen to me and the surprised look on their face with my answer told me that either young folks today either don’t know or don’t care about life.

The insulted look on the woman’s face showed me that she had no regard for anyone around her but herself and she was the center of her own universe. She started yelling words like “respect” and dropping the “f” bomb with every sentence. I smiled, returned my gaze to my lunch plate, drank my Pepsi (no coke) smiled and went about my business as security asked her if she had a problem.

Reminded me of The Shootist when John Wayne said that he wouldn’t be wronged, insulted, or laied a hand on. All I did was sit and have lunch and do what I generally do, watch people.

What set the girl off? I guess she wasn’t expecting a short answer to her “what the f@#% are you looking at?” question. My answer was honest, to the point and quick. “Nothing special.” Welcome to the new face of Americans.