 Maybe I shouldn’t really talk about this but yesterday was an exhausting day. Driving between Hazlehurst to the DMV all the way to Eastman to stop at the pharmacy and run other errands. Other than the bad dreams I had last night, I was totally spent. None of these trips would have been overly taxing a number of years ago, but with the stress and lack of sleep lately. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired. Well this morning I woke up with a shout that my wife’s TV station is no longer being carried over our internet TV provider. Needless to say, I was the one that had to fix it. I mean all the Disney owned networks were gone! Which means My bride can no longer see her Michael Strahan in the morning or heaven forbid Dancing with the Star’s. So before I could even take my morning medication I had to fix this! So here I was price comparing Internet TV Providers at 7:30 this morning all before Strahan left the airways. I think just the fact that she got me riled up in the morning to solve yet another “her” problems made her happy. But honestly she’s not the only one, our special needs son does the same thing. I guess my main reason to mention such personal business is to just get the weight off my chest. But it’s also to extend a line of understanding to all the individuals out there tending to special needs kids and elderly parents on the edge. Just like me at one time, here you are working for a living, while spending your remaining waking hours keeping one eye open. It’s a hell of a way to live, so I just want to tell you that I understand. And all the while you’re sacrificing your time and money, you get all the platitudes of, “You’re so strong, I don’t know how you do it”. Or, “You hang in there, everything’s going to be all right”. Those are the moments when I just want to say, “The hell with you”! I know it sounds cruel but when your heart is beating out of your chest and there’s no one there to help you. What can you do? But put on your Big Girl Panties and do it.
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 The sun is way up in the sky today, but of course it does that everyday rather I see it or not. When I opened my windows this morning there was a bit of a chill in the air in the pre-dawn sky. It reminded me of sitting out on my rocking chair outside at the old place. A thought that brought a familiar smile to my face. Anyway, I finished working on a poem I wrote in the middle of the night. Kinda glad I didn’t let it slip away with my dreams, turns out I thought it was pretty good. Life often hands us a difficult situation, not so much to test us, but that’s often the excuse we use. Instead of just seeing that life is handing us the effect to our cause. Much like feeling we are being rushed into a situation. When in fact, if we hadn’t procrastinated in the first place, we wouldn’t have to rush. So I sit here getting upset when a pile of clouds start to cover my sunshine. When I know good and damn well that’s how low pressure often works. We justify our actions by laying blame, usually at the feet of someone else other than ourselves. It makes for easy race baiting and strawman arguments. To exaggerate a point someone else is trying to make is a tactic as old as politics itself. Making everyone frustrated and downright angry, while rarely allowing anything to get done. So instead of complaining about the clouds overhead, maybe I should just put on another jacket, so I won’t be as cold.  Created with Adobe Firefly Despite how miserable and wet the morning has been, we left the apartment and eight o’clock and went to the doctor’s office, did lab work, and made it back home by 9:30. So for a disabled fellow like myself, that’s what we call a full day’s work. So now it’s a little after ten o’clock, and of course I’m sitting at my keyboard bragging about what I just did. But considering where I sat some ten years ago, this my friend is a major accomplishment. For the longest time my family and my physicians thought of me as a delicate little flower that should be kept under glass. But in my mind and my soul I knew I had to get things done. Because I knew if I didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done. Some of you out there they think that’s a bit of an exaggeration but it’s not. With my Bride in the condition that she is in and with four small children. Living 125 miles away from the nearest Grandparent meant we were on our own. Now that doesn’t mean that we didn’t have a friend or distant relative nearby. It just meant no one was coming over to see how we were doing in those days. So till our daughters grew up and gained their independence, did we really have a safety net. Today we have our one son living with us here in the apartment. After decades of living without such luxuries as central heat and air, a dryer, or running hot water. I still feel two things. Gratitude and fear. Gratitude that we live in a home that meets the most basic of needs. And fear, that haunting little speck that lingers in the back of my mind thinking, that it all can go away. So I remain vigilant watching everything, critiquing every move, every sign. While it ain’t much of a way to live, I try to balance the gratitude with the lingering dark. But isn’t that the way it’s always been? But when you’re bred to look over your shoulder waiting for the next disaster. I envy those that don’t have to live this way, with their false bravado and puffed out chest. Telling the world how special they are, all the while being paranoid someone’s going to take it all away. How pathetic and weak you are. Still clinging to your momma’s teat.  Created with Adobe Firefly In my head Van Morrison’s Into the Mistic is playing, while outside the window a few finches are picking through the grass. It’s a relatively quiet morning as far as people goes, but the birds and a distant woodpecker are more than making up for it. I’ve more or less have gotten use to the semi-urban sounds of the neighborhood. With the pounding feet, the occasional argument, and the boom-boom of that one late model blue Monte Carlo in the parking lot. But I try to understand there is a bunch of young families in here that want to let off a little steam. No different then I did back in the day. While last night was a bit more quiet than most, I also know this week was in-between paydays. Last night I tossed and turned due to the vaccinations I got, feeling achy and feverish. But I do my best to avoid taking too much Tylenol, not because RFK said so, but because I got enough chemicals floating around in my bloodstream already. But after a groggy morning I wiped off the drool from my mouth and made up the bed. Sitting here now after taking my morning medication, I can now faintly hear the upstairs neighbors waking up for the day. I realize what I am saying ain’t got much to do with anything. But in a way, isn’t that the way we all like it. You know, things going off without a hitch? I remember how risk and reward was preached to us at business school. Where the greater the risk the greater the reward and while that might be true. Have you ever looked at the risk just beyond yourself? What about the executive assistant or the office manager betting their lives on the “risks” you’re willing to make? It’s a funny thing how when you’re playing with house money we all tend to get a little carefree. But for the working class there is no such option, they are treated like a commodity on a spreadsheet. With no consequence to you. Life is a lot like that as well, where anyone outside your wall or bubble is fair game to your attacks. If you enjoy what you read feel free to explore my other achieved stories and check out my Poetry Page and Merch page, it's all ad free no pop ups.  Most days are not my best days, I mean I get up make the bed, to dressed, and start my day. But some days, like today, you just don’t feel it. Last night I knew it was going to be a rough day after getting my flu shot and my Covid booster. And in fact right now I’m definitely ain’t feeling it. Anyway, without giving out any details I did have to get up and get dressed to help someone out of a jam. Once part one of their two part problem was resolved I went back home. And that’s how I will leave that situation. So as I got back to the house I finished my usual routine of taking my medicine and canceled an appointment my bride wasn’t upset to have rescheduled. So here I sit, still early in the day waiting for the meds to kick in. What a boring ass life, such a shame that I’m wasting your time telling you about it. But how else can we learn to appreciate the ordinary things in our life? There are so many moments and days I just don’t remember. I don’t remember the moment I learned to tie a shoe left handed. I don’t remember the first moment where I learned to spell my name. But I do remember the pain and shame of being bullied. The embarrassment of being conned and taken advantage of by someone I trusted. It’s funny how all those incidents come up yet most of the moments of ordinary joy seem to be erased. Is it that little almond shaped organ at the base of our brain that does that? Me and that little thing were best buddies for a long time, when I was under the enslavement of Panic Disorder. And every so often it still likes to rear it’s sneaky little almond shaped head. I saw it for a moment in the eyes of those I helped this morning. But being the stoic old goat that I am, I kept my cool. So is there and moral to all this? Hell, I don’t know. Other than to say, appreciate what you have and hold on to the happy memories. If you enjoy what you read feel free to explore my other achieved stories and check out my Poetry Page and Merch page, all ad free.  Too bad you can’t see me, because I’m actually dressed up today compared to what I normally wear (oversized raggedy t-shirt and cheap baggy shorts). Today I’m wearing a decent clean t-shirt, dress-up sweatpants, and an orange Izod. For many that might not be much, but for me that’s going to the doctor’s office clothes. I spent the morning heading to the pharmacy to pick up some more medicine and to get my flu shot and my Covid booster. I know those two things may offend my antivaccine friends and family out there. But if they kill me, I’ll let you have the privilege of saying, “I told him so” at my cremation. (Mom always said I’d burn twice.) Anywho, it’s late in the morning not a cloud in the sky with a slight chill blowing out if the North. Normally I would go ahead and have lunch, but I felt since I spent the whole morning showering and going to Eastman. I’d just sit here and mess with some of you. I’m doing my best not to be too cynical but damn that’s hard for me to do. But I was nice to my youngest son, who in the last several months has went from isolating himself. To finding a steady job, getting his own car, and basically living on his own. Damn, I’m proud of him. I wish I could say I had something to do with his transformation. But my bones are getting weaker and my ability to juggle multiple balls has long gone. I guess my point here is to do the best you can. Quit being the example they don’t want to follow. Although that psychology often works, at least show them you are making an effort. Life only hands you so many chances to get things right. So do your best to set the example. So while the Price is Right blares through my office walls. Let me sit here and be proud of my family, for doing their best to live their best lives. While I celebrate the fact that I’m wearing pants.  Created With: Adobe Firefly The reflection of the windowpane bounces off the ground, and for a moment the whole earth seems still. But with the passing of a distant car, I’m awakened once again to the reality of where I am. After another night of scattered dreams involving long lost loved ones, I awoke to the gentle softness of my bride. And now that my medicine has been taken and last bits of poetry I wrote are posted. I sit with the sun in the cool morning air, with the faint sound of a morning bird and the echoing of the highway. I’ve spent the past few days writing some pretty harsh posts about the world and how we act in it. Last night I once again went to bed listening to left-leaning podcast about how evil my right-leaning friends and family are. But then I dreamt of Tony and my Granny and I thought, this is much nicer. For 63 years I’ve been doing my best not to fall off this spinning world. And all I got to show for it is a borrowed car, a rented apartment, and a closet full of hand-me-down clothes. I watch every month as my early retirement stipend floats away with each increasing bill. I figure my goal is to go out like I came in, with nothing. Leaving nothing but cloud files of pictures and sad letters to myself. Which ironically will get deleted with the first missed cloud payment. It may come as a surprise that I’m laughing to myself right now as I write this. But just like Granny said, “You gonna laugh or cry, and I’d much rather laugh”. So what you think of my sad sack piece? Does it motivate you to do or be more? Or does it just make you feel worse than you already did? Either way, I write this as my therapy and if I’m lucky, maybe it will help you too. Don’t allow your life to be focused on possessions or pain. Just live in the moment then open a window and let the songbirds sing.  Adobe Firefly 3 After what seems like an hour of playing phone tag with my PCPs office and my pharmacy on the hill. I finally got someone to call me back and respond. But that’s okay, I was already making contingency plans of the worse case scenario. Believe me I always do. You see, you don’t live a life successfully raising four healthy fairly well-adjusted adults. While dealing with your own mental health and chronic physical health issues without a back-up plan, right? You don’t have a back-up plan? Oh Lawd! Anyway, that’s not what I was going to write about today. I got up after another night of restless sleep with the mantra of being nice. Now for those of you that deal with me through social media and/or my stories, you may think, I’m already nice. Well, like most that hide behind the printed page, I can be a total jerk. Of course my wife and kids and anyone that deals with me face to face would add, “to say the least”. So I got up with the actual attitude of being nice today. But with my phone ringing and ringing and only getting automated messages. My polite smile gave way to the cynical planning I was going to take, if my silly little request for refills went unanswered. I can see my oldest child’s eyes rolling to the back of her head now. But I was cool, the pharmacy actually called back promptly, for which I thanked them and left the tiniest of sly remarks about corporate greed. I am proud of myself, while my head is still fighting to find it’s Zen. I didn’t blow, up too much. As for my Doctor’s office not answering their phone, God help them. My whole point is, you can “kill way more flies with honey, then salt”. So do your damnest to stay pleasant, it’s really not worth it to spike your own blood pressure or aggravate anyone else in a chain reaction.  Despite my common sense, I opened the windows this morning in my office. Outside on this nearly noon time morning the sun is out, and I can hear the sound of birds nearby. If I’m not mistaken it’s the sound baby chicks calling for lunch. In-between the cries for, “Mommy”. I can hear the call of other birds picking through the freshly mowed grass. I woke up late after an unusual night of vivid dreams involving a farm, a prison, and a pirate ship. (No need to ask). So it was late in the morning before my shit, shower, and shave were done. Sitting in my office, not much different than the one my Granddaddy Geiger kept. Minus the so-called occult literature and the image of a person’s chakra hanging on the wall. I wonder what it was he was doing other than making mini coffins with dolls in them back in his wood shop. He did have a desk and a sitting chair in the corner with a standing reading lamp overhead. I was very young at the time, so I can’t even tell you of anything unusual I ever saw, other them him smoking a pipe and sitting at his desk. I do remember a little trinket I made him during Vacation Bible School one summer. It was a paperclip holder, for lack of a better word. Made of a small tin can and a plastic lid to resemble a straw hat. I remember it was covered in yellow plaid contact paper with a yellow band. It wasn’t much but I can tell you it sat on his desk till his passing and beyond. So as I sit in my own office, with my ceramic turtles, pill bottles, and painted seashells. I’m often reminded of the similarities between us. The need for personal space, our interest in things beyond ourselves; and the silly odd little mementos we keep to remind us of who we are, and where we are going to be.  The sun is blinding as it blares through the windows this morning. I just throwed down my morning dose of happy, sad, and necessary. I rub the unshaven scruff on my face thinking I should have taken a shower. But being a man and knowing I haven’t got anywhere to go anyway, why change my drawers now. But I’m not totally uncivilized, so I did rub on some deodorant. The passing days can turn into passing weeks and months if you’re not careful. So I do my best to engage with the people who are close to me. But lately even they have become distant, and I don’t believe it’s got anything to do with me. It’s just another sign of the times where we get so caught up doing what we do that we forget how to live. Working on a new book draft has allowed me to reflect a lot on my life. And one of the things I’ve noticed is all the time I wasted doing life. Meaning, I spent a good chunk of my adult life being a provider and well…an adult. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that; it just seems that now as an older adult, I see the monotony of it all. While I’m sure that there are those out there that disagree and that I should “get a hobby”. For many older Americans we simply don’t have that choice. We are either working still just to keep up with the cost of living. Raising grandkids that our own children are unable to raise. Or as in my situation, taking care of a spouse and an adult child that can’t take care of themselves. I guess it all comes down to, what do we define as living? Is it going through the motions with little joy or satisfaction? Is it lived to honor ourselves? Or a little bit of both? Damn, it’s hard for me to say right now. Because of the holding pattern I find myself in. All I know is, there’s more to life than just the blinding glare of the sun. |
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October 2025
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