Feeling, much, much better... thank you

I have not blogged in what seems like eons... my time in the summer can be quite limited, and with being a third shift worker with limited internet access at work, it can be a challenge...

Lately, I have had some health issues, and I will fill you all in on it. Going back to June, our Wisconsin summer took a turn for the wet - lots of rain, record rain - the longest we have gone without rain is about 6 days, and when it rains, good golly Miss Molly, it will rain like there is no tomorrow. Yesterday we got a thunderstorm - two and a half inches in two hours, streets flooded, we lost power for a short time... and this has been a regular occurence.

And when it is not raining, our humidity is in the 70-75% range - which is not much by Southern standards, but rather moist and uncomfortable for Cheesehead standards. So the rain and humidity have pitched in to cause some rather high mold levels in the allergy index...

Another contributor might could be, not sure yet, but in June, my daughter's boyfriend gave her a kitten, and little Ruthie could be a factor of causing me further allergy issues. I was diagnosed with asthma about five years ago, and have had seasonal allergies for some time, so it could have impacted me when my immune system was being taxed by other things. Until June of this year, I did not even know where my inhalers were, my asthma was under control and not an issue at all.

So this nagging little dry hacking cough started, and pretty soon I recognized it as my old friend asthma. I found my inhalers and it kept it somewhat under control. As June stretched into July, and I was deeply immersed in my son's marching band season, my sleep time got severely compromised... to the point that if I got four hours of sleep a day, that was a lot... so as mentioned, my immune system was being overtaxed... At work, we started being mandated overtime, so I was putting in 9-10 hour days, six days a week, and I was starting to feel really run down... the cough didn't go away, and started worsening.

Marching band season ended mid-July, but by then, I had to start catching up on stuff that hadn't gotten done around the house and yard, and we had some nasty warm, humid spells mixed in with that... cough, cough, cough... by early August, the inhalers were not doing anything, and the sleep I was getting, was interrupted by the hacking cough. My ribs started to hurt, because I was coughing so much, and not really coughing anything up, no phlegm, just wheezing, and being short of breath.

Last week at work, I finally told my boss at the end of my shift Friday morning, that I had taken several unscheduled breaks in the office to just catch my breath, have some coughing jags and just try to rest, because I was exhausted. He told me to go home and get some rest, and I was more than happy to comply. I didn't sleep at all Friday night because of the coughing, and my son took me to the walk-in clinic at our doctor's office Saturday morning. As soon as he saw me, he heard the wheezing (before even taking a listen with a stethoscope) and said "sounds like pneumonia..." listened to my chest, and said "Wow." He ordered a chest x-ray and white count. White count was normal, and I had no temperature... but the x-ray showed my right lung had a white cast to half the area... he and I both concluded, pneumonia - I had pneumonia before, and this sure felt like it.

He gave me a couple different kind of meds - antibiotics for the infection in my lungs, cough suppressant with codeine to help me sleep, and told me to use my albutoral inhaler as much as I needed. The rest of Saturday wasn't too bad, as I was relieved to have taken some course of action to get me better. Sunday was not too good - I wasn't sleeping yet, the cough suppresant wasn't working too well, and each coughing jag was like someone having batting practice with my rib cage... Monday wasn't better, probably the worst day of all. I went to see the doctor again later that day, he gave me a nebulizer treatment, which helped. He gave me a prescription for prednisone, and told me that it was likely a severe asthma attack, and not pneumonia. He also gave me something for allergies, in case something was at play there as well.

So I had a pretty comprehensive battle plan in place - something for pneumonia, something for allergies, something for asthma... What happened next was pretty grim. Albutorol has a stimulant in it - and after the nebulizer treatment, I could feel the elevated heart rate. The prednisone also has a stimulant in it - it is a steroid and anti-inflammatory to fight the inflammation in my lungs. My heart rate soared, but nothing yet had kicked in to help my breathing, and so it felt like my breath stopped at neck level. I started having a panic attack, yelled at my kids, I couldn't sit down because I couldn't get comfortable, and couldn't stand because I was exhausted... my kids were pretty scared.

Back to the doctor, and he concluded that I needed to be hospitalized. I got there about 8:30 Monday night, and the resident who admitted me said my wheezing was out of control and quite "impressive." A quick nebulizer treatment helped a bit, but the heat rate was in the 130-140 range, almost double my resting pulse rate... they put me on oxygen, and gave me the prednisone in an IV... by morning I was so much better... it seemed to have finally gotten to the inflammation... and throughout the day on Tuesday I improved more.

They didn't want to let me go, because a normal person's oxygen saturation level is around 95%, and I couldn't get mine over 90. Finally a respiratory therapist showed me some breathing techniques, and by around 4 yesterday afternoon, I was cleared to go home. I had great care in the hospital, it was a brand new section of the hospital, great nurses, CNA's, doctors, staff - everyone... I got back home around 8:30 last night, and spent a restful seven hours in my own bed.

Not out of the woods yet, completely - meds for a spell yet, I have my very own nebulizer to help me if breathing gets compromised again, but all in all, I am much, much better. Thanks to everyone for your care and concern.

Though it wasn't pleasant, and I care not to experience it again, if this is the worst thing that happens to me, I am truly blessed. I have much for which to be thankful...

(hmmm... don't seem to have the ability to post pictures, what's the deal?)

a reason to pause

Amidst the blinding chaos that my life has been the last few weeks with the marching band about to leave on their 12 day trip out east (departed safely and on time yesterday) - increased work time, lack of sleep and whatever else went flashing by in my life that I could not attend to, I got an e-mail from my cousin about two weeks ago... We think of closure as something that closes a door, heals all, and swiftly takes us back to whatever "normal" is...

When you lose a child, that is nigh onto impossible, I cannot fathom the difficulty, the pain, the anguish. Some of you may recall, from 360 land, that my aforementioned cousin, my godmother, lost her son, a 36 year old pilot for the state DNR, in April 2009 in a plane crash whilst he was spotting a grass fire while on duty. To say the least, it was devastating. He left behind his wife and two little boys. The reason that his mom contacted me was that they wanted to include his bio in memorial to fallen firefighters which will be published later this year.

So amidst everything else, I agreed to do that. It was due today... so when the buses pulled out yesterday, I came home and set about the task of remembering Heath. I had written his obit, so I didn't want to do that again - I wanted to immortalize him. What you read is what came forth, I guess something that sits in my brain for ten days or so, can finally come forth when called upon. His mom and his wife loved it, and that is all that matters to me. Take a moment, hug and squeeze all those who are precious to you, and take a minute to remember those who make the ultimate sacrifice for us. Heath died while helping to safeguard our land. I still miss him, his wife, his little boys, his whole family, trudge on with huge holes in their hearts.

I just want to share a little sliver from an awesome life.

Heath

Department of Natural Resources – Wisconsin
Pilot
Date of Death: April 8, 2009
Age: 36

It’s been more than a year, but the pain of loss is just as fresh. The disbelief that someone who could live so fully and completely could be taken from us in the blink of an eye, is not one ounce less than the first moment we learned that he was gone. On April 8, 2009 a star truly fell from the sky, as Heath’s stay among us was cut far too short. That we are richer for having had him here for as long as we did there is no doubt, our memories are fond of the fullness of his life - his love for his family – his wife Jenny, son, Matt and Brett, his parents, brothers and extended family, and his genuine calm, smiling nature will stay with us and inspire us always…

Heath was a pilot, and he left us living the passion of flight. He was spotting a grass fire for the Wisconsin DNR, it could not be more appropriate that one of the true pleasures of his life was what ushered him from this life. The only passion that surpassed flying - was for Jenny and the boys. Had he his choice, of course he and Jenny would have taken great joy in spending many years together, watching their boys grow to honorable manhood.
There was a time in our country's history when people served their fellow man because they could do no other. Part of Heath's DNA was that if it involved flying, he believed that any risk was manageable, and that he could not imagine life that did not include flying. Working for the DNR allowed him to merge two of his great passions - his love of nature, and the feeling of peace and fulfillment that he felt when flying. A semi-famous letter from a soldier involved in the US Civil War to his wife, written in 1861 captures this sentiment "I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter..." And that captures Heath as well - if it involved flying, he knew he could handle many kinds of situations, and was therefore willing to accept some of the perils of that pursuit in exchange for the exhilaration that came with soaring above the earth...
His love for Jenny and the boys is deathless, and it bound him to earth as much as anything could… but there was that irresistible need to breathe in the sky, that washed over him like a strong wind, and though he used his skill and talents to serve others, there can be no doubt that his last thoughts were Jenny and the boys. Is it any wonder that when his family went back to fly over the site of his last flight, he found it necessary to show us that his spirit will always be carried upon the wind.

Greetings from...

The dark side, the graveyard shift... from the shrouds of night time... it is me, the erstwhile blogger, much more frequent commenter... I have to work out some kind of deal with whatever/whoever the being that apportions the hours of the day... somethin' just ain't right.

I started working third shift on Easter Sunday, April 4. Two and a half months later, and I have to say that I don't mind it, but I have not instilled the proper discipline of getting the sleep that I need. As I sit here writing this, my bones ache from fatigue... This being marching band season, I am trying to squeeze every last ounce of my free time into helping the band do what it needs to do... Two weeks from yesterday, they will leave for their 12 day trip to Boston, with stops in Ohio, New York state, ending with their normal season ending visit to Traverse City, MI for the National Cherry Festival, where they will march in two parades and perform in a field show. I should be able to catch up with them in TC to end the season with them, but the job thing has wiped out any opportunity for me to do the entire trip...

One of my "to do" lists is 12 items long, and that's just my Thursday list for the band. You don't want to see my yardwork list, and my housework list would be enough to chase anyone into therapy. Right now I am thriving on being busy... but when those coach buses pull out of the parking lot on June 30, and I am not happily ensconced in my front seat behind the driver... well, just be aware that I might be a tad crabby. It will be the first band trip that I will have missed since I started in 2005... Life goes on, but it makes me a tad sad, yanno?

Time to get back to work. I have choked down my second 20 oz diet Pepsi Cola, and so I need to have some resolve for the last two and a half hours of my shift. I am working 12 hours tonight, so the tiredity is bit more profound... this too shall pass... This morning when I crawled in bed, I giggled like I was having a lurid sexual affair, but it was only me, crawling betwixt the sheets, no one else was there. But getting into bed felt that good... I can't wait to do it again in a couple hours.

Just me, reporting that I am alive... Carry on.

off we go... My musical tribute to Lisa...

With anything that takes awhile to complete, there can be an aura of expectation, and with this project, there is no difference. I, in fact, tried to create some expectation. The project to which I am referring is a song dedication to my friend Lisa (shesjustagirl). When I contemplated it, it soon become apparent that just one song would not do... so before I go any further, let me cue up the intro... a wonderful song:

 

This will be a musical journey of sorts... not sure where it starts nor where it will end... but here it will go. I picture meeting in a park, on a beautiful summer day, and talking and laughing and exchanging tons of anecdotes, of finding out more about this remarkable woman who likes to think shesjustagirl... not, sorry Lis - lots more going on. I have to laugh though - the way you refer to men and women, even me, at my advanced age - as a boy... chuckles... Back to that walk in the park - it might not remain as just a walk in the park for long, I would try to find our way to a lake front, as inhaling a soft breeze off a body of water is intoxicating... As we walk, I would try to explain to you what went into my thought process for your song dedication... I knew that as soon as I started I would have to include this one... I love it, and it kind of reflects the walking that we are doing ourselves, and our mutual love of music... and the way that we both enjoy reflection, and well - give a listen...



If you don't smile during that song... ya have not got a pulse, lass... I tell ye. Breathing in the fresh air, having been refreshed by the dopamine of laughter, and having enjoyed some aural cuisine...and sometimes we walk in silence, and find ourselves just grinning at general giddiness... I know that you like current music, and I enjoy some of it too - I have a new appreciation for it because of some that you have shared. If you don't mind. I will share older stuff, stuff that I got accustomed to listening to... here is one - I shall embark on a dance related theme for a bit here, as I know that you enjoy that... I hope that you enjoy this one as well... note here, Lis - how he takes some liberty with language. You seem to enjoy that when I do it... May - I have this dance?



A nice little jazzy interlude, yes? When I was quite a bit younger - sometime in the dark, misty folds of time, back when all things were analog, before anyone knew what that was, and we had just emerged from the "everything in black and white" era... I enjoyed this group, they were pretty big for a time, back... well earlier in man's history, ok? I even went to one of their concerts - and I played one of their songs in my "music and more" of a couple of weeks ago. In keeping with our dance theme of present, I bow, kiss your hand, and ask for the favor of you presence with me on the dance floor, forthwith...



I have always loved that song... ok, I am old... sorry if that got some dust on you. There is something about music that has a joy to it, has that "joie de vivre" as the French say... I think I can conjure up one more for this portion of our musical meandering. And I shall conclude this portion of this musical memory tour with a large hit from a huge star of the 80's... he did some wonderful things with the Commodores, and then on his own. I give you, Mr. Lionel Ritchie... oh by the way, not sure if I am sticking with the dance theme here, but this could work for that...



We covered a lot here... a lot of styles, and a couple decades. But I think it was fun, and I'm not even tired... just so that this doesn't get to be several city blocks long, I will end this segment here, and let you listen, enjoy and reflect. And on another day, I shall continue, with more of my music, for you... Are you liking?

Song dedication - to my friend Lisa

A song dedication to my friend Lisa - who got a promotion to a new job this week. Though the job won't make her a billionaire - though who knows... as she is that good, and deserves it... she does like music. This is a fun song, and I thought that she might like it. This is my contribution to her celebration of her new job... Congrats Lis - you are the most bestest...

My son the percussionista...

From a talents show last Wednesday (May 5) at his high school... my son is the second one onstage, sitting third from the left as they perform. The kids came up with this entirely on their own - and just had a blast performing. They were playing Rock Band one night, and they went to the part of the game that will randomly generate a band name for you, and it came up with "Snuggle Thursday" - they liked it and kept it... Enjoy

Music and more

He said she said he replied she countered he thrusts she parries he suggests she counters
 "Thanks for meeting me here, I wasn't sure if you would..."
"Well, you asked, so you must've felt somewhat confident that I would come..."
"I hope that you do..."
"Do you always have to go there?"
"If I do not ask, there is 100% chance that you won't meet me here..."
"Agreed. You are so logical sometimes."
"Why did you meet me here, it seems as if there are a thousand other things you'd rather be doing..."
"Thousands and thousands..."
"You always say that - why is that?"

"I am old - it's a Saturday Night Live skit from the 70's - it was one of their definitions for multiple orgasms."
"That so fits, on so many levels..."
"Oh come now, can't a body have some fun..."
"You always say that, too - 'oh come now'..." 
"Is it ever the wrong time?"
Anticipating an eye roll and a look off into the distance, I propose a musical interlude that shall include close quarter dancing... I have just the song - it is an oldie...

"There now, I think that did us both a bit of good... you have no idea how good it felt to hold you, and you smell delicious."
"Thank you - I love dancing, and that was a lovely song. You know I am sucker for music."
"Dancing is almost always appropriate, and useful, and enjoyable... thank you for saying yes."
"I said yes?"
"We danced, did we not?"
"Oh yes, I thought we were talking about something else..."
"We're always talking about something else..."
"You know, your eyes are so expressive... a few minutes ago, they were somewhat distant, now, they are warm, almost smiling..."
"It's the dancing - I got lost in that song..."
"Slow dancing does that for you?"
"I love dancing, different dancing does different things..."
"Slow dancing is one of my favorite forms of foreplay... it's like stretching before an athletic event..."
"Oh so that was foreplay?"
"Might have been... might have been slow dancing for its own sake..."
An ice cube in your mouth, displayed for my benefit... tongue working around it, it begins to melt, and you have no regard for the destination of the drippage...
"I loved how you held onto me, out there, I felt so alive, needed, wanted... as if nothing else mattered in the rest of the universe..."
"I love how you move, and how you melted into me, it was very erotic."
You reach out to take my hand, and you circle my forefinger with your hand, and your fingers of your other hand dance on my wrist and forearm...
"Would it be too forward of me to say that I am wet right now?"
"Nothing is too forward for me..."
"Will we be leaving soon?"
"We can. I might like to dance some more... you know, foreplay is all about the journey... I want to enjoy it..."
"I want you to enjoy my tongue, and all its talents and treasures..."
"We don't have to wait for that... there are many forms of expressions for that very useful of organs..."
I took in a deep breath, all the way down... let the peace spread through me, unconsciously, or reflexively, I licked my lips, and ran my tongue over my teeth, revealing that my mouth was dry, but waiting, anticipating... the talking was fun, but taking a toll...
"I propose another dance... another oldie... so be it... shall we?"
"Ah, yes, please... the long version, I hope..."
"The only version, as it should be..."

"Thank you... wow, thank you. That was more than a dance... that song has always been so special to me..."
"Mmmmmm - you have no idea... what a song. Can we go now? I mean can we?"
"Such urgency." A knowing smile, as the head went lower, the smile spread... "Is everything ok?"
"Um, more than ok... just would've been helpful had I worn panties, yanno... I am so turned on. Just sayin'..." The lower lip was bitten, the eyebrows came up, the eyes just a little downcast. "How long you going to keep me waiting?"
"Don't think of it as waiting, think of it as something to be enjoyed for its own sake... If it is foreplay, then the destination will take care of itself..."
"Does everything need to be analyzed and cerebral?"
"No, but just trying to enjoy every moment, each unto itself..."
"I want to lower myself, unto yourself, and have at it... understood?"
"Understood. Will you be able to hold out for one more dance?"
"If you can hold me up... I am so close... holding my legs together and squeezing, it's as if the very air we breathe is a stimulant..."
"Got it... just one more song, I promise... then it shall be as you wish..."
"I mean it, I am a quivering mass here... please..."
"Thank you... one more song - can you indulge me that?"
A weak smile, with a hint of determination... "Yes, it's not like I am dying, I don't know, I just want you, is that so bad?"
"Nothing like being wanted... nothing... Shall we dance?"
"Yes, please..." The touch was electric. The hands went quickly from draped about my neck, to urgently holding my butt... there was scarcely room for any of creation's smallest particles betwixt us... she took one leg and place it right outside of mine, with full contact, as if opening herself to me. "You could have me right here, right now..."
Her voice trailed away... the song was just now beginning, but we had warmed up for it, working up to it, oblivious to anyone else, and our surroundings... we had our own music and rhythm...

"Oh... my... God..."
"What?" And the question was immediately answered... as her grip upon tightened, fingers clenching, breath out of control, I held her tight, as she dug her chin into my shoulder, and her hips rattled jackhammer like against mine... I just held her, held on, held tight. Music, movement, nothing else mattered. Beauty, this moment, timelessness, urgency, and nothing, absolutely nothing else... her breath on my neck, on my ear, her arms trying to hold on, hold on, hold on...
And the music was no more...
"I think we are ready now..."
A raspy, disjointed voice whispers "Ya think?"
And the hand holding as we walked off the floor was as lovely, as warm and as intimate as the hours that followed.

The scent of a woman

And it goes like this... when I am most alone is when I feel her presence. A month ago I was in a play, and she helped with props and worked backstage. I knew that she was involved, but being in the play did not align circumstances for our paths to cross until two weeks before the show. I remember it distinctly. I was walking down the hall of the high school in which we held our performances, heading for a stage door to go onstage. I did not see her, but I caught her scent - that diabolical, lovely, intoxicating bouquet that is her, no one else, nothing else...


In that one flash, that one instance, that splinter of a second, it all rolled over me like a tank. I think I physically responded in a number of ways. A sharp intake of breath, my entire body quivered, starting at the shoulders, and my knees even buckled just a tad. I was over it in a second, though my heart dove and wobbled and bonged the rest of the day. It was her. All this while I thought that I was immune, over it, over her. We never talked anymore, almost never saw one another, and on those rare occasions, it was a hug, a hello, and moving on... The sum total of our interactions of late were e-mail "how you doings" every couple of weeks.

Why this moment struck me is unclear. Maybe I just needed a reminder that I will always carry her with me... that for however much I know that I have grown and changed and moved on and moved forward and dealt with it and gotten over it and past it, it is abundantly clear that she is inside my head, coursing through my veins, bouncing around in my very being, lying dormant until a match is tossed in the kindling dried and fanned by that blasted longing. And then it raged. The sweaty palms, the watching for her, the looking for little excuses to be near her and talk to her...

Whilst the rehearsals went on, I was proficient and professional, doing my part and helping to tell the story. In down times at home, I would go for walks and run my monologue over and over and over, pausing, inflecting, getting it down cold. But the walks served other purposes, they allowed me time with her, to think of her unfettered by any other obligations. How I haven't held her for the longest time, but I could still feel her wrapped tight around me, getting me drunk on her, yes... the scent of that woman. Her head cocks slightly to one side, her mouth creeps into a tiny grin, and then - her whole face explodes in laughter. Sitting on the concrete steps of a mausoleum in a cemetery where we met one day - I hear her ask that question - "How did I ever find you, and what am I going to do with you..."

And the passage of time does nothing, absolutely nothing to diminish, tarnish or fade those images. After one of the performances, cast and crew went out for dinner and drinks. I sat and talked with her for awhile, and loved every second of it. It was one of those moments that was light hearted and fun, not oozing with reminiscing or wistfulness over what was, or is, or isn't. When she rose to leave, we embraced, and oh, oh that scent again. She held me tight, and I whispered "I love you." She whispered "I know."

hello, good night

Vince Lombardi said that "fatigue makes cowards of us all..." and I could not agree more. I am tired, but tired is transient, and everyone gets tired. There's nothing worse than being wore out and drained on a Monday with the whole week stretching out before me, taunting me...

I didn't sleep well at all last night... apparently I was not the only one so bedeviled... but I managed to stay in bed, keep the TV off, lest I get caught up in the endless cacophony regarding the health care bill... I consciously stayed awake, did not read, and just laid on my back and told myself it was OK to rest, and not to sleep. I wish that I would have believed me.

My daughter was home for the weekend, but we are no closer to solving her situation regarding her college future... I tried to keep it civil and conversational and supportive, but I am the dad, and so much of what I am saying sounds like, well, the "wah wah wah" that you hear when an adult speaks in the Charlie Brown cartoons on TV. I can even hear it myself when I talk. I love her, want only the best for her, and really have no agenda to force upon her, but she keeps tossing aside anything that I say... Frustrating, draining... perplexing...

My new job is good, I still love it... Today was one of those days that makes me feel like an old dog who will never learn all the new tricks necessary to perform up to their expectations... I was competent, but slow, I felt, tedious, and asked entirely too many questions. I try to keep my attitude positive at all costs, and show that sense of urgency that demonstrates that I am not just wandering around putting in my time.

I texted my daughter at lunch today, and told her that I love her and just want to do what is best for her. She texted back "ok." My ass is tired. Some days I can buck up and give myself the old "every day is a good day, some days are just better," mantra that is one of my dad's favorite lines. Most days it works. On a day like today when the coward in me is too tired to accept any kind of positive... I shall raise the white flag and head off to bed, to try to grab some z's that eluded me last night. I could call one of my brothers and he could hit me with his usual prescription - "you just need to get laid..." but now having thought it, wrote it and read it... I guess I can skip the call...

I shall sally forth  to the bedroom and watch CSI Miami until the eyelids get too heavy... and when 5:30 AM arrives and the alarm clock summons...  maybe I will find that this wallowing has at least cleared my brain of some of the issues. Tomorrow is another day, maybe a better one.

another night with my best girl...

I do some of my best thinking with Maggie. She is an almost 8 year old black lab, and her and I have been pals since she came here to live in 2002. Since I had to get rid of my hot tub last year, one of my most favorite things to do is sit on the deck with her and ponder the night sky. I find myself out there when I feel down, or can't figure something out or if I just feel that I need to spend some time alone, with my best girl leaning against me... Sometimes I just need to be, to think, and to watch the night sky.

Yesterday at work I got a call from my daughter. She is a junior in college, studying to be a nurse. She has always wanted to be a nurse. From the age of four or five, she talked about being a nurse. It was the only thing that she checked into in high school. She is the hardest working student that I have ever seen. I had it easy, as does her brother, things make sense nearly right away, and reading something is pretty much all I need to understand a concept. Zack and I are alike in that we can nail a B+ or better average with little or no effort. Mel, on the other hand, busts her tail, reads and reads re-reads and continually writes notes and digests everything that she can get her hands on, and most times, if things fall into place, she can get a B... My heart breaks to see how she drives herself, not sleeping, trying to pour every single ounce of herself into her studies.

Now, her dreams have to be re-calibrated. At age 21, almost three years into college, one of her professors has urged her to drop one of her core nursing classes, because she failed a test on Monday. She will not be a nurse. We have to pick up the pieces and find what she can do. She is a talented artist, and can draw most any kind of object. Maybe there is something for her there. She is a passionate, loving, wonderful soul. She has accumulated some courses toward a psychology major. All she feels right now is that she has failed and let everyone down. She feels that all of her work and toil and effort has come to naught. And I hurt the hurt of a parent who knows that this too shall pass, but cannot find the words to give her comfort and hope. Or make meaning out of shattered dreams.

And Maggie sensed my sadness, my pain, my inability to console myself with any kind of thought or one line or small token of wisdom that I like to dole out... She licked the tears off my face, but they kept coming... I don't have the answers. Life is supposed to be that you work hard, you get rewarded. A lot of time, thought and effort went into picking this school - they want you to graduate in four years, they want you to succeed, they have a vested interest in your success. And she has professors that tell students to drop their courses... this particular one started with an enrollment of 25, there are now 10 students left. We don't want our nurses to be substandard, by any means... we just want them to be good, professional, competent... I get all that.

Maggie and I just have to figure out how to help Mel be the best that she can be... to see that this detour will really take her to a destination that was meant for her, and she will be much happier with the result. I know that, we will get her there. Right now, I just have the pieces of a shattered dream lying all about me, and I am sad. Her boyfriend of almost two years, someone whom I dearly love, has been great for her, and has been such a joy and inspiration to her... seems to be charting his own path. I believe that they will ultimately end up together... but he graduates in May, and will leave in August to spend a year in China teaching. This weighs on her too, but she wants to support him, and not hold him back... and itt hurts her, and I hurt for her. In the long run, it may ultimately be the best thing for them, and for both of them individually and as a couple. But I am tired of the long run... so tired of waiting for things to work out... of having to hold everything far off so that the big picture reveals itself.


Maggie is somewhat pleased, in that she will benefit from more nights out on the deck with me, as we face the future together. I know, I know, it will all work out in the long run.

In the event of a daydream...

I return now to my life... head cold, tired from the play, but well satisfied with all things and quite happy. It was a tremendous bonding time for Zack and I. He got to see why I like community theater, he got to meet some of my very good friends, and best of all we got to spend some quality time together. The play went really well, was well received, well attended, considering... and we have pictures and a DVD of it for our memories. Also, friendships were made and renewed, and we reinforced our theater group's standing as a provider of high quality productions, and we had a blast doing it... it's all good. My exhaustion and lack of bouncing back from this cold is really, really worth it.

As I drove home from work today and bounced some thoughts around in my head to share today, I could not stay on task. Here is what filled my head, and shall serve as the entre in today's verbal smorgasbord...

Sleeping in is one of life's real pleasures. If you think of an instance when time has stopped, it is on some morning when nothing is planned, and nothing takes you from that bed until you are positively ready...

Think of this - of the grand gift of spooning until you are done, done spooning. If it leads to intimacy, of another round of delicious insertional therapy, or just nuzzling, cuddling, or seeing how much skin to skin contact you can create. I want to be the sheet draped across you, the comforter keeping you warm, the mattress pad whose bumps make you shiver... We don't have to be doing anything, nothing at all, maybe synchronizing our breathing... playing Morse code with our chest cavities... recreating, reliving, retracing, retrying feats of the recent past... giggling over fun noises, goofy positions, wondering how we got tangled up this way, and not giving a thimble of warm spit over whose side of the bed we are on...

Can you feel how I wrap around you so completely that we aren't sure of whose legs are whose and which arm to move because one of mine is falling asleep? Can you feel, the swollen lump of hot blooded appreciation parked at the small of your back, the not quite reluctant shaft swelling again as it tries to fill that lovely parking groove you have provided just below your spine... not for anything other than the joy of feeling you all about me... my mouth lazily meanders around your ear, your neck... as I try to decide if I want to taste you or just continue to breathe you in... my senses are all clamoring to be overstimulated... and luckily, you fill me with such urgency, that none are left wanting...

There is no hurry, no timeline, no need for anything other than what moves us right now... thank you for allowing my hands to do the lifting and separating and clutching and holding of your breasts... the complete sharing of all things us is just the most bestest, is it not? Warm, content, complete... the biggest project before us rehydrating, and trying to decide is it really worth it to leave the confines of this horizontal heaven? Besides, can we even break the bonds that hold us together right now? You know what I mean - that glazed doughnut feeling of being stuck together because we were either too lazy, too satiated, too fond of feeling what we were feeling to properly separate, so here we are... is this what Lionel Ritchie meant about being "Stuck on You?" 

To be totally sharing in a way that leaves no doubt... that this is where I belong... that we have no aspirations for anywhere, certainly no desire to be, to do, to think, or to even consider any of the any other things that can gnaw, distract and pull us in other directions at other times. This is it, this is where we are, and time can go how and where it wants to, because right now, I am where I need to be, want to be, have to be... and the only place that I might go, is in again... with you again, or we might do nothing at all, but lie here and spoon the day away... come what may. Yes, even that again... until we are done...

Yes... I still exist

Life is a tad full at the moment. I could use to borrow a few more hours to extend my days. I started training on a new job Feb. 15, and my son Zack and I will be portraying apostles next week in a community theatre play called the Living Last Supper. It is so cool - I have done community theatre for more than 20 years, off and on, but this is the first one where I get to be on stage with my son. I have done some plays with my parents, and now this is so wonderful to share this experience with him. The downside is I don't have time to breathe. Case in point, yesterday: up at 5:30; showered and a 30 minute commute to work, worked 7 AM to 4 PM, got home, and cleared snow from the driveway for an hour and a half, had a pizza with Zack and we zoomed off to rehearsal. Got home at 9:30 and guess what, I was tired, holy monkey, was I tired... but that stinkin' alarm clock rattled my cage at 5:30 again today... Calgon, take me away! Who's up for a gang bath, and a 15 hour nap? See you soon... Hope all is well, large hugs, and thousands and thousands of felicitations...

Hi there

Lots going on here... I have hardly a minute to myself. Took my son to visit a college on Friday, and he loves it. Great school, great program... I had a busy, busy weekend, an above average Valentine's - standards and expectations are really low, so don't get too carried away. I miss touching base here, but for now it cannot be helped. I shall do what I can, just know I have not forgot about my new friends here, but an old buck like me knows of the limitations of the 24 hour day, and I need to devote some of that to sleep... Waves hello to Liane, to Lisa... hey Suzy... huge hugs, lots of mushy kisses... take care... to quote Douglas MacArthur - I shall return.

I can always go home

I wrote this originally on a Friday the 13th... The picture above is of the main drag in my home town, probably a mile or less from the neighborhood that I grew up in... we could see that water tower from our neighborhood, just from the other side...


As a child of the 13th, I do not feel unlucky today. It is not my birthday today, but being Friday the 13th, I feel inspired to ponder about luck, fortune, whatever. I usually say that I am blessed.


I have two great kids. I am very proud of them. They make me laugh and make me proud. If luck or genes or whatever influenced their breeding, I cannot say, but they are for the most part hardworking, talented in their own ways, they love me, and as I said I am blessed to have them in my life. They are not perfect kids (just having me for their dad is a liability enough to start with...) but whatever their shortcomings, I would not trade them for the world...

My parents are still going strong after 61 years of marriage. My dad turned 81 awhile ago, and my mom will be 81 in two week... High school sweethearts, prom king and queen from the Class of '46 - they have weathered plenty of stuff. My dad has beaten cancer (first thing he did when his five years was up - he signed up to give blood again...) I play golf with him every so often - and he beats me most of the time (not a huge accomplishment...)

At my former job, the one I held for 26 years before getting canned... I could walk to the neighborhood that I grew up in. Most all the neighbors from that time are no longer there, but the houses are still there, and so are the memories. Within the last couple of years a video store was built where the ice rink was - right across the street from the house I grew up in... That is sacreligious, but they have good deals, so I have stopped there and rented movies. I would stand and peruse the recent titles, and betwixt the movies I can see my old front yard. The porch that I sat on when I sat and thought how awful it was that the Van Zeeland kids would have to grow up without their dad - gone at the age of 41. Pete, their oldest son, was just two years older than me. Look at those frickin' maples in the backyard of our house - they are monstrous. I used to sit in them for hours at a time, and read. They were great trees, and I got really good at sitting quietly in them, listening to conversations of people as they walked by, or avoiding certain kids who wanted me to come out and play. I learned how to be by myself a lot in those days.

Having a neighborhood like that to grow up in was a huge blessing. Within a four block area there were probably 40-50 kids within five years of my age either way, and about 75% or more of the dads worked at the mill. We ice skated until long after dark, we played kick the can and hide and seek and touch football and baseball. The moms got together and banned us from playing hockey, and soon after that tackle football. I felt unlucky because I never had a cast for all the kids to sign, and my knee popping out of joint never was bad enough to require surgery. My mom and Mrs. Van Grinsven conspired to cut out the full court basketball (our driveway and across the street to their driveway) after Boone (his real name is Daniel) ran into their clothes line pole and needed 16 stitches to close up a gash in his bean... Boone was a year younger than me, about six inches taller than me, 30 - 40 LB heavier than me - but was always hurt.

I was ornery and tough because I was small, and I loved it when the other team would run a play designed to go right at me. When I was in 8th grade, my brother, then a senior in high school, had a game of tackle football with a bunch of his buddies at the Memorial Football Field, too far away from home to be subject to the tackle football ban. I was just supposed to hang out with my brother, because everyone else was gone that day, but they were a guy short, so I got to play. Sure enough, they ran a sweep right at me, and I didn't flinch. Six foot two, 175 LB meets five foot four, 125 LB. I nailed Tim Stuyvenberg with a jarring tackle, and down we went. When the dust settled, everyone came running to see if I was OK. Hell yeah, but you better check him - I broke his collar bone.

Growing up the youngest of five, I was blessed to watch and learn from my older siblings. Lucky, too I guess, that my parents mellowed as the years passed. Spoiled, is what my brothers and sister would contend. I watched them match wits with my parents, and found what worked and didn't work. Lying never worked - the key was to stay above suspicion. One of my brothers was the master at that, and one of the others, was not... The stories at family gatherings now are hilarious. We never dreamed how good we had it in those days, and we also never thought how important those days would be to us now. My parents got married and within six years had four kids, and then four years later had me, and were done. They had some unreal Catholic luck, having no more kids after they were 30. Our family was on the smaller side of average for our neighborhood, as it was not unheard of to have eight, nine or more. One family in the little Dutch ghetto across the river from us had 18 kids and had to eat meals in shifts.

Sanderfoots and Winius' and Kanes, and I think Artz' still live there, and Mrs. Van Grinsven still lives in the house across the street from where we lived. Sometimes our entertainment after supper was to just go outside and see which of the Van Grinsven's were going to fight - they had seven boys, and then along came Nancy, the youngest. It was usually Boone who thought he could pound on one of the older ones, and it was usually shortlived because he got hurt so easily. I know how disappointed I was when they wouldn't come out to fight, as it seemed to be somehow reassuring to me. I felt lucky because my brothers usually didn't want to fight with me, they restricted their abuse to the verbal variety.

My dad was surprised when Mr. Seaver died a couple of years ago. Hardly anyone knew that he had fought at the Battle of the Bulge and had a couple of medals for heroism. He was just our neighbor, and that had never come up in conversation. That's how life is in the neighborhood sometimes. You know people, and you can borrow sugar from them and sell them stuff for school fundraisers, play games with their kids, do sleepovers, use their bushes for hiding places but when they died, there was always some eye opener in store... I never knew that the Hermes' had a little girl suffocate on a plastic bag when she was in her crib. I found that out when their dad died...

We were lucky - we are lucky, blessed. Here we are, 30 some years removed from that neighborhood, and we haven't lost anyone in our family yet...

It's not my home anymore, as I haven't lived there in such a long time. But it's part of the fabric of my life, and I can run into kids that I hung around with and we waste no time drudging up the memories of this and that and so many things. When Jardo was trying to do a balancing act at the sewage treatment plant and fell in the "poop patch." No one will ever forget that, ever. Or when Mr. and Mrs. Dehart died in a murder suicide on that New Year's Eve... I never knew how to talk to Dave after that - what do you say to a kid who lost both his parents the same day?

It's just a neighborhood. No park anymore, but houses and yards and trees still remain. And our memories, knocking around there like old ghosts. You can go home again, whenever you want. Home is not a physical place, you carry it around in your heart. I'm lucky to have that place as part of my roots. Lucky, or blessed.

today is...

 

Today she turns 21...

21 years and about 2 1/2 hours ago,

I first met her,

when the doctor urged me to cut the umbilical cord...

which I did, rather clumsily...

as the tears in my eyes did not quite let me see what I was doing...

Her aunt brought her a velcro ribbon to put in her hair, 

as she didn't have enough to put any other kind in...

She was small, and lovely, and she smiled alot...

She is a father's dream, really...

I call her Tootsie...

She is an adult, everywhere now...

I will always love her, and remember when...

I held her for the first time, and she fell asleep on my chest...

And nothing, nothing, could have been more perfect...

Happy Birthday Mel... thanks for letting me wear the title of dad...

right now

The sweat is real. The groggy head is real. The groping and searching and reaching out is very real. Tossing and turning, trying to fight off the confusion, reaching again... searching, the eyes stay shut... if, just... damnit... where? The search abandoned. Half light sheds some light on the situation. Here comes the reality. The lovely lilting lingering images of these twilight hours, the warmth, the passion, the fitting together of puzzle pieces matched so perfectly - all torched and torn asunder by waking, by that damnable consciousness... Here it is, shit... yes, here is that place again - the torture chamber with no devices. The dungeon with no locks, the pit with no walls.


Being alone is not necessarily loneliness. Except sometimes when it is.

together

He was tired of pacing. The grandfather clock was driving him nuts. With every trip up the hallway, he felt his footsteps keeping time with the clock. "You are a mess," he sighed. Everything about his life was well ordered and organized. He was punctual. He liked everything in its place. Everything was. His desire to have everything just right for her was becoming obsessive compulsive... He had been cleaning the house for days. Washed windows, mirrors, cleaned countertops, he dusted, he vacuumed, vacuumed again... He had been ready for awhile now. The weather confounded his perfect planning. She should have been here by now. The rain, the winds, the nasty lightning and thunder, Holy Monkey, he had never seen such a storm.

He cringed whilst another bolt crackled over head. He hated it when he could hear the lightning. The entire yard light up for a second or two, and then the thunder boomed so loudly it felt as if the entire house were picked up off its foundation and dropped from several feet back down again. He sat down, and laid his head on the table. He was tired. Tired of thinking, tired of worrying about her, not sure where she was, why she didn't at least call. Was she lost, was she in trouble, off the road... who the hell knows? He had called her number a gazillion times, it didn't matter. His head touched the cool surface of the table. Thunder rumbled again in the distance. His eyes closed, his brain stopped, an uneasy silence came over him, his breath calmed, sleep came. Or a barely conscious doze...

He jolted awake. What the? He felt warm, soothing fingertips massaging his neck. Before he could react or rebel or identify the intruder, her face came down to his, she was giggling, and yet trying to reassure him... "It's OK, it's OK... I was going to lower my voice and try to sound real sinister, but Jeeze, Louise... don't have a heart attack!" His heart was pounding, he must've crashed into some form of REM sleep, and her touch had really jump started his heart. He had no idea of the time, but he did remember sitting down to rest. The storm had ceased outside, it was still dark, but none of that mattered. In the nanoseconds it took to process the information around him, his brain leaped to the conclusion, she was here! Oh sweet mother of joy, she was here! She was here! She was here, right now!

He was entrapped betwixt the chair and the table, and with her presence behind him, he struggled to his feet, skewing the chair, moving the table, and forcing her to step back... He took her presence in, all of her. Good Gosh Almighty, here she was! She looked a bit tired, but her eyes were expressive, showing at the same time relief, joy, anticipation, happiness, weariness... all, all of it at once. He threw his arms out and she nestled into his form, and they wrapped themselves around each other. He was curious as to what had happened to her, what had caused the delay, the disruption of communications... but it didn't matter, she was here, he was here, they were together... The hug took on urgency, as pent up emotions, so much anticipation, dissolving fears and melting insecurities... none of it mattered. They could talk, and ask and answer questions and catch up on the multitude of miscellany that might matter in a different moment, but not now...

Just before their mouths collided, a breathless smiling voice whispered, "Did ya miss me?" And the lips met lips. Yes. She threw her legs around his waist, kicking the chair in the process. She tasted like heaven. He didn't know, nor little cared what it was, but it was delightful. Her full lips nibbled on his, their tongues circling around in their mouths. A new urgency had arrived, and they both were captive to it. He held her lovely firm butt cheeks in his hands, as she mashed her pelvis against his midsection. He moved his hands up her form... pausing at her hips, caressing her hips, lower back, down to her globes again... she humped against him. They both knew what they wanted, what they each had to have... He broke the kiss to inhale her neck, her chin, her ear... she mauled an ear of his, trailing her tongue across his forehead, down his nose.... they simply could not have all that they wanted of each other.

She touched his temple, then the other and moved his face back, just a tad. Nose to nose now, they took in each other's eyes. She giggled, he smiled... they were giddy with lust, with hope, with anticipation. She formed an "o" with her mouth, to kiss his nose, then backed away again... "I gotta pee, sweetie... can you show me where I can do that..."

"Absitively," he said... and grasped her hand and led her to the bathroom around the corner. One more kiss, a slight, though firm brush across the lips, and he flicked the light on for her and pulled the door shut. As it closed, he said, "I'll get us nice bottle of something, and maybe we can do the hot tub, I think the weather is OK now." The door shut and as he padded away, he heard her reply "The only thing I'm doin' is you, baby..." He laughed. She likes merlot, but he felt more like a chardonnay. Hmm, I don't look like a chardonnay, do I? He closed his eyes, grabbed one and turned around. The cork gave way with ease, and he pulled two glasses from the rack. He kicked his shoes toward the door, and flung his socks to the corner. The shirt went over one of the chairs, his pants over the arm of the chair... with bottle and glasses in hand, he met her right when she emerged from the bathroom.

She had her hands folded beneath her chin, her arms covering her chest... She had removed all her clothes, save her thong, and she gasped when she saw him, and followed that with a giggle. "Great minds think alike, huh?" she tittered out loud. He set the bottle and the glasses down, and she wrapped her arms around her neck. This kiss was slower, fuller, with no less intensity. She pushed herself against him and they reveled in the warmth of each other's skin. She jumped up on him again, this time holding her hips out away from him, as his hands dropped to her thong, and the cooperative engagement had it falling effortlessly to the floor. Immediately she slammed herself against him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt the scorching heat of her sliding up and down his stomach. Her ass was perfect, and his hands formed and kneaded each cheek.

She was out of breath. His was caught down near his rib cage. "Please," she rasped, "you better, real quick, cause baby's on fire." She nuzzled his neck, and fingertips glided and danced over his form, finding the waistband of his boxers... She disengaged from him, never letting go of his boxers, and slid them down roughly. He was ready... very. "Now," she half cried, half pleaded... and she jumped back up into his arms, and lowered herself onto him. He leaned back against the wall, took one hand to guide himself in, and held her firmly at her hips. She was devouring his mouth, and their carnal dance took over. He couldn't remember ever feeling this good, she was so wet and receptive, and they found a rhythm without a pause. She enveloped him with a such a searing heat that he gasped when he felt himself all the way in. She fit him like a glove. "Gimme some, now... please, I have to... oh please..." and her voice trailed off.

She bowed her head and gave herself over to the moment... He kept her steady with his palms on her hips... she dictating the tempo with hips, he spurring her on by pushing and pulling moving her from side to side and up and down... Purrs and growls, sighs, whispers, unintelligible sounds, kissing, moaning, a fleshy symphony of sounds emanated from the two glistening bodies in the hallway. He pounded away, grunting as he tried to go in further... further each time. Slapping, wet sloshing... heavy, gasping breathing... and low in her throat, first as a whimper, growing with urgency, "Please, please, please... oh, pleeeeeeaaaaaaassse," and she went over, her head tossing from side to side, her thighs squeezing around him so abruptly that he almost thought that she had cracked a rib... she was so lost in her exquisite pleasure that he could hardly hold her... and his own moment was close at hand...

He allowed her to slow to a semi-swift sway, and then she felt his hands tighten at her hips, he moved to her ass cheeks and pushed her against himself with one last heave he was there, too... pushing and heaving into her, wave after wave as he emptied himself again and again... they were groaning and gasping and the whole world stopped around them. She was humming or making some sound that just came out as "mmmmmmmmmm," and then again "mmmmmm," and then "uh" and a series of "uh" followed by a deep exhale "uuuuuggggghhhh" and she wanted to say what was in her mind but her mind was mush... it didn't matter, it really didn't matter. Their bodies had spoken, quite fluently, all that was needed to be said. Their hearts were banging out a deafening crescendo to the act that was just now ending...

"I know," he said, with almost no breath left inside him. "I know."

The one...

I have been down this road before. I have am so diffident and aloof to matters of the heart sometimes that it scares me. I am not seeking the one... I hope that I am not repulsive or so defensive as to absolutely cancel the possibility, but I am sorry, I just don't seem to have the energy for it. It seems like too much work, so fraught with danger, so much downside to almost completely negate the upside... If I want to be depressed, I will just look at my bank statements. I have a full life, a daughter in college who is in love with life, her boyfriend and completely immersed in her studies... and a son in high school, who is popular, smart, athletic and fun... they're joy, success and fulfillment is mine.

I enjoy my volunteer endeavors - I am president of a community theatre group, and we are about to embark on a production, my son and I both have landed roles in it. I get to chaperone trips with the marching band that my son is a part of, and I know some awesome people involved with that and we get to take some great trips to interesting places. I am working three jobs, in various fashion, so that is interesting, and gives me all the sleep deprivation that I could hope for. I am not anti-romance, I love being in love and I am so happy for those that find it and thrive with it... I just don't think that it is for everyone, and too many of us, me included, just don't know how to get it right...

I fell in love with a woman in November, 2003. We were attracted to one another immediately, we had similar interests, similar sense of humor, kids of similar ages... I adored her, still do in fact. We laughed and loved and we so enjoyed being with each other, it eclipsed anything else in my life. It was great, I was so happy. She was married. It couldn't last, it didn't. I was shattered, but recovered. We are great friends now, and I will always love her deeply. A part of me will never allow myself to be that vulnerable again, ever... a part of me is so thankful for everything that we shared, and I would not trade those six months for anything...  and a good part of me knows how fragile I am. That romance awakened a zombie, who had learned how to tread water quite nicely, after dealing with depression in 2000-2001. She taught me about life, challenged me to be more, grabbed a beating heart and taught it how to open up and pound and pulsate.

I know that there are more than six billion souls on this planet, and that chances are that one of them would be just right for me... still sounds kind of risky to me. If the planets all align and I stumble upon her somehow, hey, that would be peachier than something. In the meantime, I have three books that I am trying to read, taxes to do, lines to memorize, a chaperon schedule to layout, and a house to maintain. I have a dog and cat who love me and ask nothing more of me than my presence, and two kids who keep life full and interesting. Can't it just be good enough to be content?

aftermath

The heart races, pounds, feels about to leap from my chest, the palpitations, the sweat, the voice calling out to who knows who in the language of untranslatable bliss... it is not over in a minute, or in a heartbeat, the bodies transition from arousal, to heightened arousal, to utter satisfaction, and now the joy of completion begins... No more urgency, well, maybe some, but it moves to the back burner, as languid loving loopiness descends, laughter creeps in... as feeling that good, this intensely, cannot be contained without mirth.

To collapse upon the heated receptive form of someone with whom you have just made love with, surely has to be a form of the sweetest surrender... you may want to scream thank you, but the smile of satisfaction and the twinkling of eyes overflowing say it well enough, loud enough, clearly enough... Take me down easy, bring me down slowly, let me recline and nuzzle in all that places that we fit so well, my head against your chest to listen to the percussion inside that lovely vessel... yes, that is a very good place to start. Your heart thunders and drums, and tries to remain where it is... seconds ago it was pounding a crescendo of sweet thunder, pulsing endorphins to the very toes and earlobes... now it pounds and pounds, dancing to the tune it still hears, and the music that will not stop...

The skin that shines, the rosiness that it takes on, the warm glow that goes on and on... the lips that pucker, begging for the exclamation, not unlike the ribbon that greets the runner at the end of the race... share with me this taste of unbridled exuberance, and let the mouth and tongue try as they might to express in moist wet wrestling what they were not able to form in words or syllables... Let my hands and arms tighten about you, and hold and fold around you, this clinging to your form says thank you rather nicely... let my lungs catch up, as they feed the heart and try to restore some semblance of peace and total satisfaction...

Let my chin fold into the proper recess of your form so that your mouth can approach my ear, and make some words of nonsense or total sense, but the brains are both mushy, so if one says something profound or clever, it may be lost in the hearing... not that words are bad or unwelcome - just not necessary, right now. This is the time for no words or just one, "yes" works well... "yes" says it nicely, whatever it is that needs to be said... usually nothing, as the speaking is complete... words don't do it anywhere near as well.

Let me pay tribute to this moment, in all ways that a tribute should take, with the percussion of the heart, the winds of the lungs, the total joy in my eyes, the applause of my lips with yours, and let us take a bow for perfection of the dance... and love the fact that encore could start at nearly any minute... bravo...

an amazing life

We think about our place here, our function, our significance... and much of that will be written or speculated upon outside of our own hearing... maybe most of it after our own passing. Today I am thinking of a woman who has seen her share of obstacles, of times when she probably could've thrown in the towel, of when life was not what we would call fair. She recently turned 85, and is important to me, and a role model for anyone. I salute her today.


Born in a farmhouse right after Christmas, 1924, the second child of William (Bill) and Elsie. Not a remarkable child, or particularly gifted in anything, other than tenacity and the will to carry on. Her elder sister Elanore preceded her by two years, and the sisters would need a strength and pluck, which somehow they received in fine supply. Bill worked the farm and Elsie was his helpmate, he the son of German immigrants, she was third generation German American. Bill had an accident and had injured his head, and friends and relatives covered his farm duties until he recovered. The sisters learned from a young age the importance of community, of family and of helping out.

Some say it was a result of that accident, but in any event, Bill developed a brain tumor and died in 1928, his daughters were just six and not quite three. On the cusp of the great depression, their mother was left alone. In years to come, Elsie would marry another Bill, he was divorced, and the father of two boys, Delbert and Billy. In time, this yours and mine family would have three more children of their own - Dorothy, Eunice and Don.

She went to grade school, and at that time, many children were needed as farm hands, so oftentimes they did not go to school beyond the 8th grade. In 1939 she was confirmed and graduated from Osborn Elementary School, and went to work on her parents farm. A few years later, she met a handsome young man at a dance, they dated for awhile and married in 1943. They had their first child in 1945, their second in 1947 and found out that she was expecting their third in the summer of 1948. Just before she found out that she was pregnant, Marge and Les attended the funeral of a friend of theirs, a young man killed in a farm accident, leaving his wife and young children behind. Les was mortified, and saddened to his core. He told Marge that he could not imagine leaving a family like that behind, and how sad it must be for the man's family. A few months later, on a Wednesday, he went into the house and told Marge that he wasn't feeling well. He took to his bed, a rare thing indeed for this strong young man. By Sunday he was dead, of a kidney ailment that now would have been treated easily with antibiotics. Marge spent the entire time at the visitation, the funeral, and the days after, telling anyone and everyone that she was pregnant, lest anyone start rumors...

In July, 1948 she faced the world with a three year old, a seven month old and another on the way. He was born in February, 1949 and given the middle name of Lester. Les' younger brother Ray was a farm hand and worked for them. He was a happy go lucky sort, quiet and diligent, yet more than ready to raise a glass of beer or several when given the chance. Had his brother lived, Ray would've been one of those free spirits who never would've thought of marrying... but he was needed. Ray and Marge were the same age, as Les had been four years his brother's senior. Ray did what he could to console the young widow, helping out as much as he could, and escorting her to a dance or two and helping to care for the young children when he could. In October, 1949 they were married. Their uncle was now their step-dad. The four children born to Ray and Marge all had the same last names as Marge's first three kids, and the older three were both cousins to and half siblings to the younger four.

They kept the farm and raised the seven kids as one family. They never got rich, but they were never wanting for anything either. The years passed, and the kids got married and grandchildren came along. In the late 80's they sold their farm and moved to a trailer park not far from where they had spent their nearly 40 years of marriage. The kids would take their parents along on trips, and the two were happy to see things beyond the farm,and they enjoyed the journeys, and spending time with their kids and grandkids...

One trip Ray began to show signs of hostility, confusion and... dementia. When they got back to Wisconsin, one of the daughters scheduled him for a check-up. The doctor found nothing physically wrong, but requested that they follow up with a neurologist. He determined in short order that Ray had Alzheimer's and the family should start to prepare for his long slow slide into the black hole that is that disease. Seven months later he was in a nursing home, and for the next seven years he drifted further and further away, finally passing in October, 1998, one day after their 49th anniversary. He was finally home again. The funeral was a standing room only affair - his quiet gentle nature had touched so many people, and friends and acquaintances that he had not seen in years were there to offer comfort and support to the family.

In 1995, in the midst of Ray's struggle with Alzheimer's, Marge had reluctantly gone on another trip with one of the kids. Her daughter, son-in-law and two kids took grandma out to Pennsylvania to the Pocono's to see some of the countryside. The day that she got home, she called her daughter, the same one with whom she had traveled, and tearfully reported that she had passed blood, and she feared for the worst. Her beloved mother Elsie had met with a similar fate, passing away to colon cancer in 1964. Elsie had sat at the funeral of her sister, a victim of breast cancer, knowing that many of the same people would be gathering for her funeral in a short period of time. She was right, and two weeks later she passed away at the age of 63.

Marge was 71 at the time of her diagnosis. Her doctor felt that it was a small mass and might not even require chemotherapy. A one foot section of her colon was removed, along with a few lymph nodes. Wrong prognosis - she would need chemo, but probably only once a month, and it would probably be mild enough that she might not lose her hair, and would only be necessary for a few months. Wrong, and wrong and wrong. Chemo was weekly, she became sick and week, and lost all of her hair, and after 11 months, she begged them to stop. They did, and in 2000 was declared totally cancer free. There has not been in any reoccurrence. It was feared that during her treatment, she would not make it, leaving Ray alone in the fog of his Alzheimer's.

She claimed that her grandchildren were an inspiration to her, and she maintains that if the cancer ever returns, she will not fight it... Having lost her sister Elanore to cancer during Ray's treatment at the nursing home, and many of her other friends, she was determined that no heroic measures should be taken to save her life. None have been necessary.

She leaves for a trip out west tomorrow, to visit a son in Arizona and a brother in California. They always love to have her visit every year, as she brings her cheerful nature and her love of beer and playing cards. It's all good for her now. She can leave her mobile home behind for a couple of months, and have the winter pass by without her. When the time comes for her to be called home, she is ready - life has been full and plentiful and challenging. Not easy, or perfect of smooth... She will start many a sentence with "Years ago..." and launch into a little essay on how things were for her when she was growing up... The years can't take away her spirit, her laughter, or her knowledge that it's all been worth it...

My children's maternal grandmother... and a grand, grand lady she is... bon voyage, Grandma!

what lies betwixt

Something I wrote a few years ago, and had this on my Yahoo 360 page... I still like it, so still want to share it...
I'd like to remember laying down between your legs, and licking, starting at one knee, and tickling and circling and flicking my tongue from your knee up and down and swirling and slowly. Very slowly inching up your thigh - making you put all your weight on your hands - so you can thrust your hips forward, if you wanted - and then you'd throw your head backwards, and shake it back and forth. You grit your teeth and suck in a huge breath - because it felt so good - and I am just getting started. Can you feel that tongue, it’s working it's way around - higher, and higher - I'm almost to that place - where your legs meet your torso. I have to detour now - I need to suck and nibble on that tendon – you know that I love that nice firm little cord that connects your legs right near your butt cheeks. It's sticking out, I take it between my lips and nibble it gently, and you like it, yes, you really like it. But you want more; you want my tongue and my mouth somewhere else, somewhere very close by. You're starting to wiggle and squirm and you're starting to say something, but you've closed your thighs a little around my head, and I can't quite hear clearly. You're breathing in faster - I can hear your breathing through your clenched teeth - the only words that I can make out clearly are "Come on..." and "PLEASE" - otherwise it's garbled. I flick on the tendon a little bit, and reach underneath you to grab your butt - I'm preparing to take my sucking and licking and nibbling to a new level, and I figure that I will need to have a good grip.




I lift my head up a little and I look up at you and you are really enjoying yourself – you are sporting a smile that could thaw a polar ice cap. I lick my way up your thigh, across your hips - zoom onto your stomach - linger for a few seconds in your navel and then help myself to a nipple - then to another. You like that - you start to moan and purr, but at the same time you press on my head - you'd like me to continue that pleasure making a little lower, in the area I have just left to move up here. I free up a hand from beneath you and slowly, lightly let my fingers wander down to your special place - and they are immediately greeted with warmth and wetness - and a sharp intake of breath. I run a finger up and down your slit - you are so wet, oh honey, so, so wet. You start pumping your hips a little and pressing against my hand, trying to draw me into you. OK, if you insist, first one, then two, fingers quickly sink inside you. OH, OH - the heat and the wetness - you are so unbelievably hot, honey, wow. You like this, but you are losing control. The fingers are good, you love having something inside you, but you want that tongue, and soon, after enough suggestive pressure on the top of my head, I start licking my way down again, enroute to a rendezvous with my fingers, right in the center of your bodily pleasure...



My tongue continues it's way down. I love the squirming and the anticipation, the breathless, almost pleading, urgency of a woman on the verge. I might travel back up and nuzzle your breasts for just another moment, luxuriating in the soft warm flesh - then to kiss your neck, your chin, and of course, your mouth. Before I go down, to complete what you so desperately want, I'll kiss your ear and tell you what I'm about to do.



Something like - "You want it so bad, don't you, honey, are you ready? Do you feel this tongue in your ear, - very, very soon, it's going to be somewhere else. It's going to be tasting and licking your hot, wet, lovely flesh, right in a spot that is going to make you feel so good, you're almost going to cry from the sheer pleasure... Do you want this tongue, if you do, you're going to have to tell me...tell me what you want me to do with it. Shall I circle around and around, making gradually smaller and smaller circles...until I get there, right where you want it? And where is it - do I go inside, or stay on that special spot - do you want me to lick hard or soft? So soft that you can just barely feel it, oh my God, honey - you are so fucking hot, I feel how hot and wet you are, my hand is soaked - do you want my tongue where my fingers are? Do you want to cum, right now, do you?" You would be wiggling and writhing and breathing so hard, it would be hard to for me to proceed - and you're trying to help me, trying to tell me what I wanted to know. But it's not easy, your breathing is jerky, you want it so bad - you grit your teeth, and suck in a huge breath, but it gets caught in your throat. You open your eyes wide as I trail my tongue down from your ear, down your neck, making big sweeping circles around your neck and upper chest, then I lightly bite each nipple, with my lips covering my teeth, trying to give you a little feel of pleasure and pain. You start pushing on my head in earnest, mumbling "Now, Now, Now - please, plllllllleeeeeeeeeeassssssse - EAT ME NOW - Just fucking do it - now!" And I will, the table is set, no more delightful torture is necessary. I kiss each nipple once more, and my tongue travels a straight line, from between your lovely breast, over your stomach, flicking lightly along the way - a quick kiss and a couple flicks at your navel - and you are anxiously awaiting it's arrival. You violently thrust your pelvis against my hand, which has been churning with two fingers inside you. I have avoided your clit, as my tongue wants to sample it first, and it is just about to arrive (and so are you!). I give full kisses on your mound, taking as much of your mound into my mouth as I can, and I stretch my tongue out and reach toward your slit. God you are hot...As we near the final phase, I reposition myself - I work my fingers in and out of you several times, and you are about to go over... I take my fingers - so full of your juices, and I place them into my mouth - and it so lovely, you taste so good.



From there my hands go back to your ass - and you raise up, and my tongue stretches out to its entire length and I touch you there, very gently. Your head goes back and then violently side to side. I want this for you now, almost as bad as you want it for yourself. I drop down, to the bottom of your opening, flicking, back and forth - gradually increasing the pressure as I move up the slit. You are moaning and smiling - your head is at an almost grotesque angle - the pleasure almost forces it back all the way, but your curiosity and longing to see what I am doing brings in forward. I take one delightful dip into you all the way, into an incredible hot blast furnace of moistness - and you begin to cum. I go back to the clit, my tongue curved lengthwise into a tube to surround your button - and you shake violently and the moistness turns to a flow - so wet. My hands grasp your ass cheeks, so I can firmly administer to your needs, but also to steady you so you can just go completely over. And you do, alternately shouting, then almost whispering - "God, yes, yes yesssssssss, oh fuck - now now now…” as your voice trails off… Then suddenly, violently you shriek “NOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" And the words are no longer words, just sounds - nasal, guttural - as wave after wave of pounding pleasure sweep over you.



The smile of a woman in her consummate pleasure - it is pleasure/pain on the way up - a longing desire, but here, now - at it's fullness, is just sheer, wanton, abandon and release. Your pelvis is wracked with continuous pounding as your orgasm hits full thrust, and just hangs there - you are so into the moment, you have given yourself to it - totally. My tongue has encased your clit, and I turn my head to circle it completely - working hard to control you. Finally, I release your buns and lower you down - you lower your pelvis, and my lips take you in to my mouth more fully... and finally, oh ever so gradually, the waves start to subside. Still ever so wonderful and beautiful - you are able to breathe, and your smile is of utter, complete bliss. You throw your head back all the way, trying to get the circulation to resume - your midsection has so dominated your body's attention, it was as if all things centered there, and the rest of the body starved and waited until it was over. And it is ending, slowly; ebbing away - giving you so much pleasure, as it gradually fades away. And you are done. I sense the completion. I crawl up to your chest - I love the symphony of a heartbeat that has just finished a masterpiece - and yours does not disappoint me. Though your body is moving toward a resolution and relaxation, your heart is pounding ferociously - speeding frantically to nourish all your extremities. As your heart finds equilibrium, I’m satisfied that I have accomplished my mission. I move my mouth to yours, so that we can reward ourselves with a kiss. A long, slow, satisfying kiss... and it is good, very good.

Yes

And in this place and time, in this moment, I still see it, can feel that warmth surrounding me, being totally surrounded and consumed and knowing that I as I probe your depths, it is you that is inside me... I feel that incredible warmth, heat that holds me, floating, transfixed, lost in this moment of anticipation, building, yearning... yes, I, am, inside... inside you, all the way, but it is not enough, never enough, the fever, hold me right there, clench around me, hold me in your nether depths like you want to take all of me... moist urgency, clenching muscles, then clenching teeth, fists, butt muscles, all a symphony of sex, yes, not moving now, just holding here, can I go on, is there another millimeter that I could push further, can you spread for me a little more, take me in deeper, I can't be in deep enough, should we go on from here, start the fever, frenzied push that leave us gasping and heaving, and leaving some of me in you... as your eyes hold me, hold me right here, just as tightly as your sheath grabs me and beckons me further... let us hold on, right here, right now, and know that this moment, it is not about completion... that will take care of itself, but in this moment we are complete, the puzzle pieces fit, the clocks have all stopped, the calendar has no meaning - we have this moment, we are this moment, we cannot be deprived of what is here, what is now...
Sliding back, not out, knowing that at some point, I must take leave of you, but for now, let us go forth into this great adventure, let us find that rhythm, ride this wave, take this moment, and build on momentum, I want you, take me further into your depths, have me now, take me all the way, this great act of acceptance, not to fulfill some want, to scratch some itch, not to play out some evolutionary urge, but take me, have me, all of me, let me, show me, urge me, yes, yes, I cannot close my eyes, as you own those, I feel that beckoning urgency, you clasp my soul with your pools of light, and your body composes the symphony of echoes, and cries, and grasp around me, urging me to fill you, fill you, take out that last oozing ounce of emptiness, and have me splash inside you with a willing, aching, yawning yes... yes, now... we have this moment, and then can freeze it, keep it, call it up and lovingly turn it over... yes
No hurry, no worry, no haste... just being, being inside you...yes... being, being inside you, let us hold onto this, being together, inside you, this moment is forever...