Blog Archives - TRUTH-LIES...with FD Thornton

Angels

8/29/2024

Wednesday always seems to be one of those days. I’ve either got a doctor’s appointment, or I’ve got to go grocery shopping, or out somewhere paying a bill. Outside my office window it’s a bright, sunny day. What I wouldn’t give to just sit outside in the shade. But life being what it is, you seldom get what you want, living on the table scraps it decides to throw at you. I don’t mean to sound like such a pessimist. But if the world has taught anything it’s to plan for the best and expect the worse. But one of my angels did come down today and dropped me a note. It was a simple thumbs up emoji text. And while it may not mean nothing to you, between me and my angel it was all that I needed.

The history between us is far too complicated to write in one story. Our naughty little secret has been going on for decades, yet nothing has ever gone on. We are always there for each other through thick or thin. Between the pain of physical illnesses, marital strife, or just the need to feel appreciated. We’re always there for each other. Some would say it sounds like the formula for a good marriage. But common sense told us long ago we’d a killed each other by now. Content in the worlds that we’ve built we are pioneers that have blazed trails out of nothing. Always sacrificing ourselves for the greater good.

So here I sit, a 125 miles from where I really want to be. But I’m not sad and even disappointed about it anymore. For deep down in my soul after all the shit I’ve seen, I still got an angel. Oh, people may think they love you, but eventually you are often just the means to an end. But what is love in it’s purest form? I think I’ve seen it a few times. In the fear of holding your first child and the confidence you gain thereafter. The first glimpse of a grandchild formed in part from your own flesh and bones. Still I question whether I’ve seen love anymore than just beyond that. What I’m saying may be unfair or even selfish. But there’s something inhumane in giving too much. That’s why I need an angel to bathe me in the purest form of love.

Pound of Flesh

8/26/2024

With a warm breeze blowing out of the east, I got my back turned towards the sun. Just listening to my EMC neighbors hollering at each other like most tradesman do. Even with a breeze the sand gnats are a buzzing determined their pound of flesh from me. I woke up in a good mood this morning despite all the shit going on around here. But to be honest I’m feeling a little feverish and I’m having trouble focusing my eyes. According to old wives tales my Granny would tell me, it usually means a change is a coming.

Still I muddled through this morning doing some research for the next chapter in my Never Gone Series. Digging up the most interesting information about my hometown and it’s contribution to the war effort during World War 2. It’s amazing how history gets lost in the shuffle of wanting to move forward. How the attitude of most good people is to bury their mistakes in folktales and outright lies. I often see myself as a unicorn among storytellers, in that I’m not here to try to always tickle your ears. Much like my Granny Geiger that would tell it like it is, never overlooking the mistakes, but always willing to forgive.

That was always a problem for me, learning to forgive… myself. I don’t see myself as a saint or even a victim for the matter. I’m just a man as plain you can get, with a gift of gab not many people really want to hear. A relic of a dying age where friends and family confessed their sins one to other. Either sitting around a kitchen table or a fire pit, with a glass of sweet tea or a can of beer. But time has become a commodity and not a precious gift that should be shared. Instead we’re living for one task to the next, till we’re buried in the ground.

The end.

It's What You Do

8/23/2024

Staring at a blinking cursor the intimidation factor can get pretty high. But at the same time as your fingers glide across the keys, the flow of emotions can be quite freeing. Today I get to feel a little selfish. For one, I get to travel out of town alone. And second, because it’s a visit to my cardiologist about some recent test results and not anyone else’s. Being your own advocate often takes a backseat to the many little crisis’ a caregiver has to face. From taking your loved one to their doctor appointments. To making sure their bills are paid, to buying their groceries, and usually preparing their meals. It’s troubling to see yourself as the second banana in your own one act show. But it’s what you often do.

But after nearly 40 years, it becomes second nature, a skill I’ve learn to master after years of practice. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loss someone you cared for long time. It must be like losing a limb, where your mind fires up the impulses, but nothings there to react. That last statement gave me pause, especially since the results of my test. Physical dependence is a hard thing. It’s not like a parent and child relationship where the child eventually out grows any physical dependence on the parent. It becomes seemingly never ending thing. Oh you might see some Independence with repetitiveness or technology. But repeating the same daily struggles can often become pressure points within the symbiosis.

Maybe that’s why I feel so anger and selfish, because I just feel like I’ve lost a big part of myself over time. But as my own physical condition has deteriorating, I sometimes find myself dependent on others for a helping hand. It’s an humbling, yet frustrating process. When it was you that was the “go to” person, to only find out now you need “going to” yourself. Your only hope is that hopefully built up enough karma points to ask such favors. But when your mental health likes to remind you what a sack of shit you are, it’s difficult to expect any return on your investment. So there it goes the life of a fragmented soul. Take from it what you will, hopefully you will find it a comfort that you are not alone. Now I’m going to sit outside for a while, because that’s what I do.

Sharecropper

8/21/2024

Library of Congress

Staring at the scars on my hands, I see decades of work and toil. I see the damage, honor, and strain life can put on you. Life that wants nothing more than to earn your respect. My father was a man that earned respect quietly. He toiled in the heat and chemicals of a paper mill long before safety regulations were ever a thing. A place where a man with a union card could earn a living, support a family, and buy a home. Now I sit here on another man’s land living a life of servitude like a penniless sharecropper in the dust bowl.

But the grass just got cut, leaving the intoxicating scent of lawn clippings and sand gnats lying about. I pull my lawn chair towards the middle of the yard in hopes of avoiding the sand gnats in the shade. I notice the slight wilting of the leaves on the sycamore trees. They tell me cooler weather’s on the way. I’m putting my money on the belief that relief won’t come till the end of the year. So my bones are restless from this seemingly endless heat and chores of the coming months.

But I try to remain present, watching as the world moves at lighting speed. Knowing good and well the clocks a ticking. Hoping that enough 11:11’s come my way, this whole barely getting by thing is getting old, as the secondhand dial is wound tight. For there aren’t any good opinions for a man covered in scars with nothing to show for it. Still a cardinal flies overhead while a second one comes up behind. Are they trying to give me a special gift or inspire me just a little more. For riches and wealth are fleeting, but wisdom and clarity are passed to generations on.

The Familiar

8/18/2024

Once again under the shade of the old fig bush the gnats and mosquitoes nipping at every exposed part of my skin. Earlier I video chatted with my best friend. When you move away from home seldom do you see old friends, especially when most of your family has passed. There’s a certain isolation you feel even when the past wasn’t so beautiful. The familiar along with the aging of time often bring a certain nostalgia, even in the most tragic of times. I’ve been feeling that nostalgia a lot lately considering my kids are now grown with families of their own.

So you look to new friends. But considering who I am and the times in which we live, friends are like trying to pick figs out of the top of this bush. It can be done, but you end up fighting gravity and wildlife to do it. So as I have said more than once, “I’m a stranger in a strange land”. And although my children have blended in well as well as my wife. I find it very difficult “blending in” with the culture I’m surrounded by. Not to insult this community, they have been good to us, like I said it’s more me than them.

But I do have a few surviving friends back home who remember the smartass awkward kid from Tompkins High. Or the faithful servant of God from down at the river. But I now am who I am, after decades of struggling trying to discover myself. I’m no longer that awkward kid or that good and faithful servant. I’m wiser, smarter, more creative, and a hell of a lot happier in my skin. I no longer feel the need to hide behind a mask or to keep my truth a secret. Hopefully you are working yourself to that same point where you don’t have to hide. Be yourself, be at peace, and show compassion and empathy where you can.

Your Conscience

8/15/2024

After a morning of being the payee representative, I finally got out that government office proving my son was real. Knowing good and damn well I’ll be back next week doing the same for my wife. After my dealings with bureaucracy, I actually felt a slight twinge of sympathy from the government employee whom I was dealing with. But such as the life for an unpaid representative for the disabled. Still looking out across that waiting room at all the broken souls with no one to represent them. At least both my wife and my son have me.

In a country that says, “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses…”, at least you'd think you'd get a fighting chance. While many of the same people that wave the flag also cuss under their breath when they see you come. Saying that all the huddled masses are just a bunch of intruder's. But they'll say, don’t you mess with my grandma’s check or deport “my Mexican” out there working my fields. We are so damn hypocritical unless it’s all about us. It’s such a zero sum game we play when it comes down to “the other”. That we would even deny ourselves freedom just make sure they don’t get a helping hand either. Well it’s time for all of us to quit crying and a bitchin’ like a pack of spoiled brats.

Right now there’s a steady breeze blowing the laundry on the line. So I sit here decompressing from my morning helping my son. Knowing good and damn well ain’t nobody else going to volunteer to do it. Yet for all those others hurting in that waiting room. I can’t help but think, does anybody really care about them? Are they someone else’s "other"?

In a land that prides itself on being the land of plenty, and statement only rings true unless it cost you a dime. “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mark 12:43-44 ESV). So as you rest your head tonight where will your conscience be?

Outside

8/14/2024

As much as I love to be outside, I know the odds are stacked against me. But here I am perched under the canopy of the large fig bush with sycamore trees hanging overhead. The morning weather girl promised me it wasn’t going to be as hot today. But with the humidity and dew point hovering in the upper 70’s, the pleasant 79° f she said it was outside actually feels like 93°f. Still I’m outside hoping for a little wind to blow before the sand gnats zero in on me. But if the sand gnats don’t get me then the knee high grass pollen certainly will. It’s crazy my yards starting to look like a hayfield.

Now that I’ve meet my bitching quota for today. I could just step back inside and sit under the AC with a nice, scented candle. But in the tradition of Hemingway and Bukowski, I assume live out my misery firsthand. While sure enough it’s the grass that does me in today. My legs and arms are beginning to itch for my grass allergies. But I’ll try to stand it for as long as I can before I have to take a shower to get the pollen off.

Life’s full of little inconveniences and discomforts that keep you away from what you want. Rather it’s the desire to be a billionaire or just lonely writer looking for the next line. We all have something that drives us. For some that drive may not have been discovered, but it’s there. For some that drive maybe fueled by bitterness and hate or the lust for power, but let’s hope that’s not your passion. For decades I was told I never good enough, so I made plans my whole life to prove that I was.

But even with my writing skills, at first it was a feudal effort to prove it to myself. It took practice, effort, and sheer need; to prove to myself that I could. It also took a conscious effort on my part to better myself both mentally and spiritually. The way I did that was through mindfulness and meditation. It was through observing nature and compassionately listening to my pain, that I learned trauma can only be healed by facing it head on. And it is through my writing that I now do that. Sometimes in life you don’t get everything you want. I mean I don’t have a multi-million dollar book deal or even a reliable bug stray. But it doesn’t mean I still can’t be happy doing what I love.

Lancelot

8/11/2024

After a fairly uneventful visit to our daughter and son-in-laws to see our youngest grandchild. Once again our grand dog Lance decided he needed to keep a piece of me with him. It’s not that Lancelot is a bad dog, he’s just a little too hyper and friendly when I show up. Much like his namesake he’s a bit of a swashbuckler with his nails. So usually not a visit goes by where I don’t carry a souvenir home of my visit. Anyway being the boy scout that I am, I’m prepared for anything. And as you can see from the image I may have overdid this first aid for dramatic effect.

No matter how old you get or how independent your children get of you. If you did a halfway decent job, with your whole heart into it, you did it right. In my situation I suppose my kids grew up with a fierce sense of independence. With little to no financial assistance from us, other than watching us struggle to keep the lights on and their bellies fed. Our children have established remarkable lives all on their own. With two married to good loving husbands and three smart little monkeys they call kids. With houses and mortgages they call their own.

I myself, ain’t got nothing. I don’t own a house or a piece of property, hell I don’t even own the car I drive. I’m the closest thing to a Zen Buddhist monk that an out of shape, white-southerner can get. I would love to say this was a personal choice. But in reality after years of just becoming a functioning human again, it’s the best I can do. While success can be measured in a multitude of ways. For me my success will hopefully be measured by the legacy that I leave. In a world so focused on material worth, it’s hard for many to understand the importance of legacy. And that legacy has more to do with kindness and intent, then any kind of material wealth.

For…”it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” (Matthew 19:24 ESV)

Soda & Crackers

8/8/2024

This morning I saw what I could only describe as sunshine peeking from between the clouds. But that illusion quickly vanished as soon as it started raining again. There’s a song that has been stuck in my head for the past few rainy days. But I be damned, if I can’t remember what it was now. Ain’t it funny how your head plays with you like that sometimes? The noise it brings to your attention, when that’s the last thing you really need.

Early tomorrow morning I have to get up early and head to my favorite hospital to be stung up and wired for sound for yet another Nuclear Stress Test (Go ahead and look it up, I’ll wait). If I’m not mistaken this will be my fourth in as many years. My cardiologist wants to have another detailed look at how my heart’s doing. A sort of road test for my circulatory system, if you will. The actual stress part of the test doesn’t really bother me. I mean they shoot you up with adrenaline to put stress on the heart and see how it flows. The part that bothers me the most is the slow motion x-rays they take of your heart before and after. Where you have to sit perfectly still on this narrow ass bench nearly holding your breath, while the machine slowly moves around your chest.

Yeah, it’s that much fun.

Anyway, my favorite part is having to drive myself there and back, which is about a 50 mile round trip. But if my memory serves me right, the stress part of the procedure wears off fairly quickly. And what’s your reward for being a good boy after it’s done? A ting can of soda and a pack of dry crackers. Sorta makes it almost worth the trip doesn’t it? The reason I’m telling you all this crazy shit is to remind you, to don’t be afraid of knowing what’s going on. Especially when it comes to your health. After my initial mental health challenges, I became quite the hypochondriac. With so many stressors triggering me, especially my health. But after my first real heart attack in 2015 and the myriad of other health issues I’ve had since. I’ve found a certain amount of peace in knowing the truth about my health.

Hiding your problems under a rock may sound like a great solution. Be what it really does is create more stress and therefore more problems. Believe me I know. So take my advice and don’t be scared to know the truth. It’s much easier to face an issue head on then wait till the last minute and discover it’s too late. So don’t be afraid to know the truth. I’ll save a soda and crackers for ya.

Weathering the Storm

8/7/2024

For those of us that suffer from a thousand tiny cuts. It’s hard to pin down any one thing that might be causing our pain. All I know is that after a pleasant morning I became ill with an ongoing bout with one of my favorite chronic conditions. Now it’s something that usually goes away on it’s own after a few hours. But tonight, the party doesn’t seem to want to end. Leaving dehydrated and incredibly sore. It’s now 5:14 in the morning, and there’s a tropical storm hanging overhead. So while I would love to go back to sleep, apparently I am not.

The thing about living with chronic ailments, both physical and mental. Are that you never really know which one is the real root cause of the problem. I mean this may have been brought on by something I eat. Or maybe it’s just a side effect of my “fight or flight” alarm going off due to the weather. For those of us with panic disorder our amygdala have a mind of its own and often gets stuck in the on position. Fortunately for me I was diagnosed fairly early. So after a few years of trial and error I was prescribed an infamous little pink and blue pill that I still use successfully to this very day. For decades they have kept me and my little almond shaped buddy functioning. But of course it could have been something I eat?

Either way, I have to keep my wits about me and go through the process of figuring this thing out. When I get a pain or discomfort, usually it’s pretty obvious the cause. But there are times when there’s a little head scratching going on. This is especially true when the symptoms could be brought on by fear. My panic has used nearly every part of my body to get my attention. In fact it’s panic that is at the very core of my heart trouble, which in turn is attached to nearly every other condition I have. But despite whatever physical problems I’ve faced, it’s been mindfulness and awareness that has brought me through.

Now by no means do I chant mantras all day to ward off evil spirits. But I do my best to remain aware. To be aware of my surroundings, aware of what my physical body is saying, and aware of where my emotions are at. By listening to the pain and turning off the internal noise, I am usually able to tap into whatever fear or pain I’m having at the moment. But this awareness only comes through practice and having the willingness to hear and not to judge. For judging is what your mind does when it wants answers. But often answers aren’t what you need…just patience, peace, and love.