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A Character Defect – my little secret

Or at least that is what my son calls it. So, I confess, I like chick flicks. Not sure why. I don’t like, don’t read, romance novels and never have, no interest at all, and I don’t like the formula “love story” either. You know the one, boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back again. There is too much pain in those for me. So much unnecessary pain in them, maybe they are why so many of our relationships play out so badly. We expect more than we have a right to and we don’t dare bare enough of ourselves to allow ourselves to be seen. Oh, that kind of movie breaks my heart, many times over, but I prefer movies where the people treat each other right and where the ending IS right, even if tragic.

The greatest gift God ever gave us, He says so Himself in CWG, Book 1, is relationship, this relative universe. For only here can we find out who we are as we define ourselves by learning who we are not. We’re not doing so well on that score as a species, I’m afraid. We say forever, but we really mean until. Something changes, or we do, or we stray, or we tire, or we give up, give in, quit. There are good reasons for all of those things certainly. We aren’t at a place in our evolution where we CAN say forever, for we know not what that means. It sounds good, I’ll give it that. And there are some magical relationships among us as models, but far too often we fail. Maybe that’s why we get so many chances to get it right. Maybe in all of our incarnations at some point we DO get it right. That is worth waiting for. When God talked of relationship, He wasn’t speaking only of human relationships, but in truth was speaking of the relative universe as Einstein described it, where we know what one thing is because we know what its opposite is. Hot – Cold. Here – There. Like so.

But the particular version of relationship I am moved to make my first post of the year is about human relationships, I don’t care what kind, I mean, all relationships are holy, not just man-woman, but all. And it seems actually that in same gender relationships all of the miscues of opposite gender relationships occur as well, but with perhaps less frequency in long term committed relationships. Same gender, particularly male – male, are often only about the physical component, it is that which keeps the AIDS virus alive and moving, unsafe sex. And I’m not talking about that either, only noting what I have observed. No, tonight, I want to talk about what ails me. Chick flicks.

I go long periods avoiding them, though I have long left violent movies behind for the most part, there ARE some that make points worth seeing, hearing and feeling. There are things worth dying for and some very violent movies have made those points dramatically. Often, the thing worth dying for is love of country, while I understand this emotion, feel it, served in Viet Nam, though I opposed that war, it is drama heavy and I fear what leads young men to martyrdom. Land is not sacred, no one piece more than another, it is ALL sacred in that nothing that exists in this universe was not created from the body of God, there IS nothing else but Him and all of it is sacred in that sense. We define ourselves in how we relate to that. And very badly most of the time in recorded human history, much evil has been committed in the name of God, there can be no greater blasphemy than to kill in the name of the being who is nothing less than pure, unadulterated, eternal love. But we do. A lot. We need to change that. I think we will. One day. Not today.

Another thing worth dying for is in defense of another, this I find a noble end, though of course it is also death on sequels. Much better to live a love-filled life, in my opinion. And that is what I find in the sort of chick flick I love most. Oh, I’ve learned through the years, to not go unprepared, to make sure I’ve got kleenex with me, because I will cry. How can one not at something so beautiful as the best of humanity shining in relationship one to another? An example, last weekend I rented “The Time Traveler’s Wife”, I wanted to see it in the theater, but never got to it, maybe my jen protected me because I was a blubbering mess not far into it at all. Scenes, of incredibly strong emotion do that to me, not manly I suppose, but I think we have done men a disservice in denying them the right to FEEL and express those feelings. I wrote of sacred tears a while ago, I hold these in that category. I absolutely loved that movie, loved everything about it except perhaps its quixotic ending, but even that I found bittersweet. And would have written differently! But the love that couple had for each other was marvelous, Rachel McAdams, who I first saw in a very funny movie, The Hot Chick, was glorious, wonderful, perfect in her performance. And the tragedy that everyone knew was coming did and I cried through the whole damn thing. It was so beautiful, ridiculous premise – maybe, but love conquers everything in that movie, it even transcends death. Which it really does, though not quite in that way. Still, I loved it. Took it right back to Hollywood Video though, couldn’t put myself through that ringer again and I knew I would if I kept the remaining two days I had left.

Tonight, after work, I went to see another movie, I’d seen previews on tv, Dear John, I was misled by the previews, I was expecting more than I got, it was formula, a bit of a twist, and a too serendipitous ending. And I cried through half of it. Came home with a screaming headache, thinking about why we do such things to each other, why does it have to be so hard, why do we make it so hard. This young couple were perfect 9/11 intervened and she actually did Dear John him while he was in mortal peril. I have another confession, the same thing happened to me during the middle of my tour in Viet Nam, so I know what he felt – better than he, because I lived it, he acted it. That was one of the things the army did to us while they tried to turn us into automatons, necessarily mind you in a hostile situation you HAVE to be able to depend on the guy, or, now too, girl next to you to do what they are supposed to when they are supposed to do it, without thinking. Your lives depend on that. And so the Army breaks you down then builds you back up so that you really understand what team means, not some silly athletic gig, but life and death teamwork. You march in unison, you eat in unison, you exercise in unison, you clean in unison, and you run in unison. One of the ways our instructors, good men for the most part but for one sadist, kept us in unison while we marched or ran, was to sing a cadence, you’ve all heard some of them I’m sure, one that Dear John was about went like this, “Ain’t no use in looking down, Jodie’s got your girl and gone”. Try it, it’ll keep you marching right in time. And it was the truth of what happened to many of us, I can’t speak to the part that happened back here, where the betrayal began, the pain or fear or lust or whatever led to it, only to what it felt like on the other end, when you are counting on someone who promised you forever, but whose definition of forever turned out to be six months.

So, anyway, in the movie, years later he does something I would never myself have done, and in the end it all turns out swell. But from here to there and the distance between there was heartache. I don’t pretend to know how to fix that. Well, I actually I DO know how to fix it but I am not sure our species is evolved enough to handle that. No, that’s wrong, I AM sure our species is not evolved enough to say forever and mean it. Very few of us manage that and many that do aren’t happy doing it. That is what makes me cry at chick flicks. The pain we inflict on each other in the name of love, the way we make it so hard to be trusting and trustworthy. We’re better than that. Or we should be. I’m sure we can be and I believe we will be. But not until we learn one simple rule and live it every day in every way, love everyone you meet, no matter who, no matter where, no matter their race, gender, religion or lack thereof. The ONLY thing that has EVER been able to save us, to bring us into true relationship, is love. When we have re-membered THAT lesson, we will be ready to live in peace, join in humanity’s evolution back to where we began. We can make this universe, Eden. It IS already, but we’re so clouded in our vision we can’t see that. We lose ourselves in the small things, differences in skin color, geographical location, us versus them. When we learn to shed those small things and see the beauty of each soul for what it really is, a living representation of our living Creator, then we’ll begin to understand love and live in the Garden He built for us, forever and ever, amen. I think chick flicks lead us closer to that triumph than anything else. Not religion, religion divides us, not family, family creates us and them, not music, for most of it is of sad loss, that which is lucid anyway, the beauty of the music and voice lost in the darkness of the lyrics. Nope. It’s chick flicks. Good ones, like “The Time Traveler’s Wife”. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

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When Someone Grieves

This is from Steve Goodier’s newsletter, with his permission. I have a word or two of my own following.

What do you say to someone who is grieving? (“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?” probably tops the list of the kinds of conversation starters that should be avoided.) And actually, there are a lot of ways we can go wrong here — saying something that isn’t appreciated by one who hurts. Even when we are trying to comfort.

But chances are, we have been, or will be, put in the position of trying to comfort someone who is experiencing a painful loss. That is an important role we all play from time to time. So, what do you say to someone who is grieving?

I often remember a story told by Joseph Bayly when I struggle to say the “right thing” to someone who is hurting. Mr. Bayly lost three children to death over the course of several years. He wrote a book called VIEW FROM A HEARSE, in which he talks about his grief. He says this about comforting those who grieve:

“I was sitting, torn by grief. Someone came and talked to me of God’s dealings, of why it happened, of hope beyond the grave. He said things I knew were true. I was unmoved, except to wish he would go away. He finally did. Someone else came and sat beside me. He didn’t talk. He didn’t ask leading questions. He just sat with me for an hour or more, listened when I said something, answered briefly, prayed simply, left. I was moved. I was comforted. I hated to see him go.”

I have found Joseph Bayly’s experience to be excruciatingly typical. Both men wanted to help. Both men cared. But only one truly comforted. The difference was that one tried to make him feel better, while the other just let him feel. One tried to say the right things. The other listened. One told him it would be all
right. The other shared his pain.

When put in the difficult position of comforting someone in emotional pain, sometimes what needs to be said can be said best with a soft touch or a listening ear. No words. And though at times the quieter approach has felt inadequate to me, I have come to realize that it can make a bigger difference than I may ever know.

– Steve Goodier

It seems I have known little but grief over the past 13 years beginning with the suicide of my youngest son in 1997 and the pain that never left, then nearly losing my oldest, only, son in April of this horrid year, and then losing the best friend I have ever had, Brandon’s dog, Cisco, this past August. I want to say the worst is behind me and I certainly hope it is, but I could have said that at the beginning of this year and been as horribly wrong as I actually was. I had such high hopes for 2009, not one of them came to pass. I almost feel I daren’t hope for better in 2010 for fear that even worse awaits. But Steve is right, as I know, I still have to answer questions when what I really want is for most of those people to just go away. I don’t want platitudes. I don’t need advice. Sit with me quietly, let me feel your love, nothing more is required. Blessed be. gene

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A loss

I’ve been informed that Sandra Seich, who authored the book, and test, that I talked about in the Top Strengths section on my main site, passed away on Christmas Eve, 2009. I’ve been blessed by her friendship and love as the world has by her incredible talent, will and insight into what makes we humans who we are. I will cherish forever her memory, and read often the one post she made her, she had full editorial privileges but was, as was always true with her, consumed with her latest project, and, of course, her battle with cancer, she made it 20 months past what her doctors told her would be the end. I am not in the least surprised. She was a wonderful woman of great intellect and her passing leaves this world just a little emptier. I know she is in a place of incredible love now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss her every day I remain here. Much love Sandra, very much love to you and yours. gene

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

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Sacred Tears

I want to talk about tears tonight, first, yes, long time no post, but still, I intend to be here more often, it is only that life keeps getting in the way, some of that life part involves tears.

I know that men and women experience tears in very different ways, at least superficially. As an example, I’ve never experienced tears of joy. I have certainly had many joyful moments in my life, but in my own experience, have never cried at something joyful. Perhaps that is a pleasure awaiting me, in some part of me, I truly believe it is, but that will be in the moment I return home, I think, I hope. I love Ghost Whisperer, though it is essentially nonsense, it still moves me to tears in most shows, at various points. Often at the end. But I don’t feel that as joyful tears. Maybe it is open to interpretation, as is all of life. I dvr’d the last Hallmark Show, A Dog Named Christmas, and I swear it was at least a 12 kleenex movie for me when I watched it. Overpowering emotions.

When I was a younger man, I didn’t feel things that way, I suppose upbringing, not manly to cry and all that, but in truth, I didn’t FEEL things in that way. Maybe it was my youngest son’s suicide that broke a wellspring in me, I know it certainly broke other things, but since, in moving moments on television, or in life while talking about him, or others issues, that harsh, hot, stinging arises and my eyes well up. THAT I know and understand. I’d be interested in the female point of view on this as I know it is different from mine.

One thing I have noticed in the years since Brandon has been gone, that strong emotional moments in movies or television, bring tears to my eyes, especially when alone, I just let that happen. Feel the honesty of the emotion I am experiencing. There are things I won’t watch because I know they will make me cry, but generally those are things of horror, war, suicide bombings, shows that highlight the darkness in us all. We are born of light but in this world of duality, everything has its opposite, and the darkness, for me, is unbearable. I have wearied of it. It is all over everything, and I think that fact breeds more of it. We sensationalize the ugliness and ignore the goodness.

It used to feel, for a part of my life, that it was impossible to cry, though I clearly remember doing so as a child, I thought I’d lost that. I know that crying, for women mostly, is or can be cathartic or cleansing emotionally, I have never experienced that either. I am drained when I cry. I don’t feel good when it is over, I don’t mostly care much for whatever it was that made me cry, because so often that is someone else in pain. As cliched as it is, I can’t watch a woman cry, and I say woman only because rarely have I seen a man cry, without feeling this overwhelming urge to make it better, even if I can’t as is most often the case. Perhaps men and women cry for different reasons. But seeing tears, brings them to me, unbidden, sudden and surprising. Other times are much the same, they come to me in an instant at something I see or remember, or talk about fully expecting NOT to cry, but suddenly finding myself in tears anyway.

So. Last night I watched a show I normally don’t, or quit on after its first year, Criminal Minds, because EVERY freaking week they find another serial killer wreaking inhumane slaughter on other human beings. I just don’t enjoy seeing that. And it isn’t the truth of us either. Stuff like that would make the news, believe me, the same press that are trying to trail a Tiger would be as sensationalized over anything resembling a serial killer, so in truth they are few and far between, which speaks to the ultimate goodness in we humans. I am not talking about the misguided souls of Islam who think it honorable to kill any “infidel” who does not believe what they believe. THAT kind has always been with us, and ultimately, as we always have, we will repudiate it, that needs begin with the followers of Islam who know the truth of their religion, that it is a religion of peace, tolerance and understanding, and who put down those who pervert their faith. Christians have had many such over the centuries too. It is just right now that Islamic radicals are holding sway.

Back to the show. All I really want to say about it, is a quote that was spoken over the last scene. This show generally opens with a quote over a scene and ends the same way. Last night’s caught my attention. And I forewarn you that I have not personally vetted it. I may. But I find it sufficient as it is, and completely true.

One of the characters said, “Washington Irving said: There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love.” I think I understand tears now, on the largest scale. Though I have much to learn about the smaller scales as I mentioned above. much love, :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

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The Greatest Gift of All

This is, again, from Steve Goodier, the Methodist minister with the newsletter I have been receiving by far the longest of the many things I get daily, these are no longer daily, but are always treasured. This one is most appropriate for my blog too. You’ll see why. :^) gene

THE GREATEST GIFT OF ALL

A little boy and girl were singing their favorite carol in church the Sunday before Christmas. The boy concluded “Silent Night” with the words, “Sleep in heavenly beans.”

“No,” his sister corrected, “not beans. Peas.”

The story reminds me of the wonderful and hectic holiday season many of us are approaching soon.

Dave Garroway was, for many years, the host of the TODAY show on NBC television. Someone once asked him about his understanding of Christmas. He replied: “I’ve noticed that when people are asked what they want for Christmas, nine times out of ten, they answer with something material. That used to be amusing to me, but it’s not amusing to me any longer. I happen to be one of those people who can afford anything he wants, but I find what I really want, I can’t buy at all. I want peace of mind, peace of soul; the kind of peace you have when you don’t really want anything.”

What do YOU want for Christmas? Or if you don’t celebrate Christmas, what do you want for your life. For your world?

For me, what I want cannot be bought or gift wrapped. What I want most can best be summed up in words like “faith” and “hope” and “love.”

For myself, I want faith. Faith enough to see light in even the bleakest of situations. Faith enough to believe that goodness will prevail in the end.

For my loved ones I want hope. Abundant hope. Hope in tomorrow. A hope that helps them believe that better times lay ahead so they can take that next step.

For my world I want love. And I believe that the solutions to most of our biggest problems will only be found when we decide that we are indeed one family. The problems of war, health care, crime in city streets, immigration and unemployment take on a different hue when I am talking about my brothers and sisters whom I love dearly. Do you also want things you can’t buy? What if we all decided to go after those things this year that truly matter? That could be the greatest gift of all.

– Steve Goodier

Steve, quite by accident, has stated the theme of my entire site. We are one people, one world, one family, when we are talking about brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, cousins, aunts and uncles, there is no distance we would not go for them. When we broaden OUR horizons and become more inclusive, rather than more separatist, then will solve the problems our one world lays before us, together, always together. :^)

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

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The Blue Bird of Happiness

This is all Steve Goodier, a wonderful story, and a little spin at the end, that would be me. :^)

BLUEBIRD OF HAPPINESS

A sign in a pet store read, “If anybody has seen the Bluebird of Happiness, would you please notify this pet store?”

Happiness seems to be in short supply for many people. If the results of recent surveys can be trusted, there is a general decline of happiness in today’s world. And people were not all that cheerful a few years back! It was Oliver Wendell Holmes who stated, “I might have been a minister for aught I know, if a certain clergyman had not looked and talked like an undertaker.” (I have to say, though, that some clergy and undertakers I’ve known could teach the rest of us something about joy.)

Joy and happiness are not always the same things. Happiness can be thought of as more of a temporary, emotional condition, often based on outside circumstances. Joy, on the other hand, is deeper. It is often contentment in spite of the unsettling present. We can be basically joyful, regardless of a particular unhappy situation that we may be enduring. It is sometimes just a matter of keeping perspective on our troubles, and especially when those troubles seem to be in long supply.

You may know the story of the man who had a marvelous way of keeping joy in his life. He was a carpenter. He followed the same ritual every day when he came home from the job. He stopped by a small tree in his front yard and placed his hand on a couple of branches. Then, when he walked into his home, it was as if a magical transformation had occurred. All of a sudden, the stress was lifted from him. He became energetic and joyful, able to fully interact with his children and his wife.

He explained it this way: “That tree is my trouble tree. When I come home I stop by the tree and, just like I leave my tools in the truck, I leave my troubles outside of my home. I hang them on that tree before greeting my family. Anything that does not have to come in my house stays outside. Anything that I do not have to deal with at home, I leave on that tree. And in the morning, I stop by the tree and pick up the troubles I left there in the evening.”

Then he adds, “It’s a funny thing, though. Every morning I always find fewer troubles remaining than I hung the night before.”

Here is a man who has no doubt seen the Bluebird of Happiness. Chances are, it is nesting in a tree just outside his home.

There is wisdom in knowing that some problems can wait until tomorrow. And more wisdom in knowing what to hang on the tree and what to bring in. Managing daily problems well is vital to maintaining joy.

– Steve Goodier

That is exactly what we struggle with every day. Understanding what is the little problem of the day and what is the big one. And understanding which is which. We all face so many issues and problems every day that it is hard to tell which to tackle first. Steve points out a formula that we can all use every day while deciding what to do next. Always choose the thing that troubles you most. Work on that, feed on that, fix that, and the rest of your issues will fall into place, waiting their turn. Nothing can defeat you, but you. Never forget that. :^) gene

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The Last Mimzy

This isn’t new, but rather a repeat, that will for reasons of your own become obvious as to why. Not the best thing I’ve written, but it makes me feel so much better about life. And today I need that. :^) gene

I don’t rent many movies, most genre’s that at one time appealed to me, do no longer. What I mean by that, is over the years I have lost interest in many things that at one time I had a lot of interest in. I think of that as growth, change certainly, but growth as well. For instance, I used to enjoy thriller-type movies, we all love, or many of us do given the success of such movies, the sensation of being safely scared out of our wits as with the “Jason” or “Michael Meyer” type movies. Actually I lost interest in those a long time ago, but I used to enjoy action movies too of the “Arnold” variety, the summer of 1997 found me unable to be in the presence of all that killing, the only one of that genre that I can still stomach, even enjoy, is the original Highlander – I so love the soundtrack, Queen, Freddy Mercury’s heavenly voice, and the ultimate outcome which though arrived at violently, is ultimately about hope.

So, you can understand, that what is available now that I can enjoy is a rather limited selection. I have some favorites but they all tend to be now movies that demonstrate something good, even wonderful about us, we spirits here having this human experience. I just love the American President, Contact, Regarding Henry, the Kid with Bruce Willis in an interesting role, a handful of others, all movies that I find hope in, that I find what I consider to be the best part of us in. So, though there aren’t really all that many movies, I do find interest in these days, still sometimes, Jenna will take me to Hollywood Video and lead me through the place, I’ll look at lots of things, most of which I have no interest whatsoever in, but what will eventually happen is I’ll find myself standing in front of something which does, that she wants me to see. For instance, City of Angels, lol, which they have but one copy of and which is not new, but which she actually had me ask for by name a few months ago and which she has since asked me to watch once again – that is the movie in which I first heard Sarah McLachlan, by the way. I’ve come to some very out of the way movies this way as I am wandering and she just sort of stops me, or I stop somehow, right in front of what she wants me to say – not at all unlike the way Book 1 came to me.

This past week, I was up that way on another errand and she asked me to go in, so I did, this guidance works in what I’m sure some will think an odd way, she doesn’t tell me WHAT to do, but urges me toward something she wants me to do, or see. We do have very specific conversations, long ones sometimes, about a lot of things, but when it comes to choices, those are always mine and mine alone. Again, because this is my experience not hers, and there are no scripts. Free will here really does mean exactly that. So as I wandered the store, looking at the new things, nothing really struck my eye, until I came to the Last Mimzy, a kids movie really, or so I thought upon first glance. But she said, THIS, is what I’d like you to see, gene. So I picked it up. It is a sci-fi movie, really, and though I love sci-fi, I don’t watch a lot of those movies, because, well, again, they are too violent for my taste.

I want to tell a little story here about how that came to be. I think it was a gradual sort of weaning process that began in me long before Brandon died. I used to be just a voracious reader, we are talking many books a week growing, mostly mysteries as those were what my mother, the only other reader in my family, liked. I found a couple people at my work who shared that interest and we began exchanging Robert Ludlum and Dick Francis books, but sometime 15 years or so ago, my taste just began to change, I was troubled by the violence in fiction, I think I started to see our “fantasies” as affecting our lives. I know there are no studies that prove television, or movie, violence begets physical violence, but I think the more one sees that, the more one becomes inured to other people’s suffering, the more one comes to believe that the end justifies the means. And I don’t. Believe that. This was, of course, Jenna’s gentle influence in me that caused this gradual turn away from that genre of print and screen media. It is a rare show I will watch that has much violence in it. For instance, in its first season, I really liked Criminal Minds, because of the thoughtful, insightful way they were able to characterize human behavior, but they had to come up with a new serial killer, ever more horrible, every single week to keep the show going. And that is NOT what our world is, it is NOT what our country is. There are people here who do evil things, yes, (don’t worry we’ll talk about judging another time, what that means for us as human beings I mean) but we do not have new serial killers every week. They are, blessedly, rare, few and far between. So Criminal Minds lost me. I could not live with the horrors they dreamt up no matter how brilliantly acted and presented they were.

When the movie part of this first became obvious to me was the summer after Brandon died. I tried to go see a new “Arnold” movie, xxxxx, and I found myself so overcome by the violence in it, that I left after less than 15 minutes, I was literally panic-stricken by it, I felt like I could die right there in the theater and I just couldn’t stay. I thought maybe it was ALL movies, but it wasn’t, Contact came out that summer and I made my oldest, my remaining, son, go with me – just in case. But it was wondrous, not horrifying – I was already a Carl Sagan fan and had read his only novel, but still, I wasn’t sure if it was movies, the crowd, or the dark, or the genre that had terrified me so. I learned watching Contact that it wasn’t the theater, the crowd, it was the violence. The next summer, on the CWG list, people were extolling the virtues of Saving Private Ryan, what great lessons it taught. My question to the group was, given its subject matter, was, was it bloody and violent? Yes, was the answer, but the overarching lesson was not. I knew I could not see it, so I listened to the discussion and said that if I ever did see it, it would have to be when it came out on video, so I could watch it on a small screen, in a place where I could shut it off for periods and watch it in chunks if I needed too. I have seen it now. About a year ago. And, yes, the idea that drove it was a noble one, and I was able to deal with the violence of it – I’m stronger now than I was back then, but I am as horrified by movie violence as ever. Even more so by the real violence taking place all over our world, but so graphically depicted in what happens in the middle east every day. There is no greater blasphemy, in my opinion, than killing in the name of God.

Back to science fiction. :^). I said I loved it, but that isn’t completely true, I really have only read two authors, and all of their work, I own, most I have read so many times, I could write them from memory, lol. I don’t agree with all of what they wrote, by any means, but there is so much eternal truth in their work, and so much good, that for the most part, I can excuse any excesses I found. And I really only found those in Robert Heinlein’s work, he has SO much right, so beautifully, but I cannot abide the way he has characters treat each, beginning with Stranger in a Strange Land, a wonderful book in many ways, his characters, grew ever more rude personally, sort of in the way people who know each other well are teasingly insulting to each other? I can’t stand that. It is passive-aggressive cruelty in my opinion. We ought be more loving to those closest to us than to anyone else, in my judgment, not less. A cruel comment is a cruel comment no matter how much you love the person to whom it is made. Those of you who have been to my main site, know this is what brought on, or accelerated my awakening, interpersonal communication of less than a polite nature. I have bought, read, and thrown away one of Robert’s books at least three times over this issue. His early work was directed toward teens and young adults, I still have those and I love them, this issue was there too just not to the degree that it appeared later. I just find that unfortunate, because he was SO far ahead of his time in SO many other ways. The other sci-fi author I read, though I came to him as an adult, was Isaac Asimov, I have nothing to criticize about him. I loved everything he wrote, I think it was prescient and compelling. And coming.

So, the last Mimzy, we come full circle, though a “young” movie, Jenna wanted me to see it. When she does this, wants me to see something in particular, whenever we get to that point in the movie, or book for that matter, she tells me clearly, THIS is what I brought you here to see, gene. And in this case, though the whole movie is wonderful, what she wanted me to see was at the very end. A little speech that, really, ends the movie. I paused and copied down what was said. “But Emma’s tears were the instruction’s for an awakening. Our precious quality of humanity had been turned off. And it spread like wild flowers. People shed their protective suits and over time humanity blossomed again.”.

In my opinion, humanity has YET to blossom. We have NEVER been all that we can be on this planet. THAT is what I think is coming, an age, not an era, but an age, where we will become a true civilization, one people – one world. Where will be able to lay down our weapons and build a little bit of heaven right here on this beautiful blue oasis of love given us by our Creator for this very purpose. That humanity is due for an awakening to the truth of ourselves, to remember who we really are, and to begin to live THAT experience here on Earth. And then, we may take ourselves to the stars, where experience of all manner can be had, where what has happened here may well be forgotten, until sometime in the millennia to come, Emma’s tears are remembered and humanity blossoms again wherever it has taken root. It requires will and strength and sometimes violence to gain a foothold on a planet, to become the dominant species on a planet, and in that doing, the truth of us can be lost as we become immersed in the experience of simply living. Robert talks about this beautifully in one of his very best books, Time Enough For Love (the story of darling dora), but the experience of forgetting who we are only to eventually re-member, is how we ourselves evolve, from creatures, back into the love we are. The last Mimzy is worth seeing, dear ones. much love, :^) gene

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Man’s best friend, My bff, My Cisco

This week I lost the best friend I have ever had in this life. Cisco, born 11/14/1995, died 08/07/2009.

I want to just talk a little about this furry wonder who came into my life when he was 7 weeks old weighing 7 pounds, 7 ounces and full of spunk already. He was a Lab/Shepherd cross, though he looked all Lab but he held his ears like a Shepherd, which made a lot of people think he was a wolf, because he was so big, and jet black, but for the tips of his toes and a splash of white on his chest. But there was nothing wolf-like in his being, he was just a huge bundle of love.

I consider him to be my furry grandchild, my Cisco. He originally belonged to my youngest son, Brandon. All Brandon wanted for his 20th birthday was a dog. So we went to the local Humane Society, Anoka County, USA, and as we walked in, there was this little guy in a HUGE cage all by himself out front. They said he was too little to be back with the others. I don’t really understand that because all of the others were also in cages. I think it was so we would see him first. We looked at all of the beautiful animals they had back there and Brandon couldn’t make up his mind, so I said, let’s look at that little guy out front again. I stuck my finger in his cage to touch him and he bit me. Then sat down and smirked. I told Brandon I think he’ll be fine, he said okay, dad. After I wrote the check, they said you might notice he’s a little noisy. He was the last of a litter of 7, 7 pounds 7 ounces and 7 weeks old. What could go wrong?

That first night we had him in a big box next to Brandon’s bed, his room adjoined mine. Cisco cried all night long. He’d cry and cry until his voice got hoarse and would give out, he’d be quiet 30 seconds and start again. The next morning Brandon said, Dad, I don’t think I can handle another night like that. I said, I don’t think I can either. From that night on, Cisco slept with Brandon, that was all he wanted, companionship. They told us he’d get to be about 60 pounds, but he stopped growing at 7 months and 115 rock solid pounds, tall and strong as a bull.

Brandon got caught up in a horrible drug, crystal meth, over that next year and a month after his 21st birthday he committed suicide. He’d had Cisco for 13 months, though all but a few weeks of that time he was with me in my home. Cisco is how I got through that. There were so many days I didn’t want to get out of bed at all but I did because he needed me.

Labs have horrible separation anxiety. I thought it funny that when Brandon was out, Cisco would chew his shoes. But when Brandon died, he shifted his love to me. I’d leave for work and as I got in the car, I’d hear him cry as if the world was ending. And while I was gone, he’d chew. Walls, floors, furniture, woodwork, I couldn’t believe he could get his teeth into some of those things, but he did. They say dogs can’t remember what they’ve done wrong so they have to be corrected immediately, in the act, or they won’t know why they are being chastised. Bull.

I have two ways into my house, through the garage door and the front door. A couple of times I left through the front door to go across the street to a convenience store and came back in through the garage door. Cisco would be sitting at the front door watching it. So I’d say, what are you looking for? And he’d jump like I had scalded him, I only got away with that a couple of times, from then on and to this day, when I leave one door, he goes to a spot where he can see both doors and greets me from there.

For 11 years he did that every time I left and came back. Unless he’d done something he knew I wouldn’t like, if he had, he’d be on the other side of the dining room table, where he could still see both doors but be hidden, and I’d find him peering at me from under the table. Some times I never did find out what he’d done. Others were obvious and some as I looked around I found. But he could not help himself, he busted himself every time. So those who say dogs don’t remember are full of it. Cisco was living proof.

We were so fortunate he and I. Both had good health, he used to run with me until knee surgery stopped my running. But we explored the world together as much as we could. And then two years ago, he began to age. Since then there have been many good days but also many where we had to be content to just be together. And truthfully, that was enough for both of us. As I told him often, we were just two guys who lived together, loved each other and took care of each other. Believe me, I have had many moments where he alone has kept me grounded and sane, when I was lost and through his love, he found me and brought me back to life, through my grieving, through the travails of life, he always stood firm against anything that wasn’t pure love.

But a year ago he got arthritis in his hindquarters and had been on pain/anti inflammatory medication since, and we couldn’t take those long middle of the night walks anymore. He started coughing about two months ago, a month after his annual checkup, I thought it might be allergenic, those darn cottonwood seeds that float through the air. But it didn’t pass and I took him back to his doctor. It turned out he had an enormously enlarged heart and the larynx in dogs passes right over it, that pressure is what is caused his cough. He knows that disturbs me, because he sounded as if he was hacking up his lungs, and I’d ask him, are you okay buddy? So somehow, he managed to suppress that while I was downstairs with him, but when I go to bed, I’d hear him start and he not stop all night long.

He’d been falling, since this past winter. I have a screen door, with a lift-up glass pane for the winter, and when I’d take him out sometimes my hand would slip off the handle and the door didn’t open, it is full of dents from him hitting it at full speed, which is the way he has always exited our home. He suddenly couldn’t do that anymore. This past winter when he’d try, he’d slip and fall, never before did he do that, he always navigated the snow and ice as if they were nothing.

In the past month, he has begun falling in the grass outside, wasn’t always able to get up from the linoleum in front of the door, his preferred spot. I’ve had to lift him up and once on his feet he’s been okay. He lost 25 pounds over the last year, which still left him a very big dog at 90, but in the past two weeks he’d been increasingly unable to stay up at all. His doctor added two heart disease medications and another pain reliever over the past two weeks but none of them helped.

Two weeks ago one evening when I got home and took him out, he stumbled like a drunk, his head and legs moved one way and his hindquarters another. He had bone spurs throughout his hindquarters. Were that me, I wouldn’t even try to walk. But he did. He didn’t want me to know he hurt. But when he’d fall, and that particular day he fell 10 times, he looked at me with the clearest communication we’ve ever had. His eyes said “help me”. So I did. He’d squat and fall into his stool, so I wiped his butt and brought him back in telling him what a good boy he was.

When his doctor told me, last week, that there wasn’t anything more we could do for him, I knew I had to let him go. He was suffering, though he tried SO hard to hide that, I couldn’t let that just and so the day I’ve dreaded for years finally arrived. It is his time, I know, but somehow I always hoped he’d outlive me and yet in another part of me, I’ve had this vision for years of him passing quietly in my arms. And that’s what was. That little bundle of love who gave me reason to get out of bed each day when Brandon died because he needed me, well, I determined to give him the love and respect he deserves. He’s the background on my phone and the reason I’m still here – love that knows no bounds. If he can, I can. We all can. God made no mistake in creating dogs, and it is no coincidence the dog spelled the other way is God. We could learn so much from them, I have, unconditional love, unconditional forgiveness, no matter what you do to them or let be done to them, they love you without reservation anyway. We humans could take a lesson from that. If Cisco has a legacy, let that be it. I love you no matter what, no matter why, and forever. That’s his answer. And my own commitment to the dear ones in my life. I want to thank all who have been, and are, so important a part of my life. If you have need, call me. I WILL be there. Cisco taught me that.

I still, a day later, can’t believe we have had our last everything. Thursday afternoon I took the afternoon off and we visited places we used to go all the time, that was HARD, partly because he hasn’t the strength to get in the car and I have to lift him and he doesn’t like that and partly because it was the last time we’d ever be there together again. But we did it, we walked where we walked when he was a baby, we looked at the bank of the river that he flung himself into when he was 6 months old. I have to tell that story here, we were walking in a nearby wooded area through which runs a creek, I had him off leash so he could sniff as he pleased. We came upon two boys at a bend in the creek, they were on the other side swinging on a rope out over the creek and dropping into it. He looked me right in the eyes and as was so often the case, I could read his mind, he was asking, can I? I smiled and said go ahead, buddy. He started running AWAY from me but turned into a tight circle and headed for the bank. It was at least a six foot drop to the creek and he sailed out to the middle where he landed with a huge splash, the two boys on the other side shocked as all get out and laughing so hard I thought they’d fall over too, he came up sputtering, looked at me as if to say, WHAT did I just do, swam back, clambered back up the bank and did it again, at 6 months his Lab instincts were very much there. He loved water in any form, snow included. So on this past Thursday we walked slowly and he snoofed as much as he pleased, and then I cooked him a very rare steak. He can’t manage the stairs anymore, so Thursday night I slept on the couch downstairs near him, as for most of his life, he slept upstairs next to me, I didn’t mind the coughing, not at all.

I’ve seen several stories about this experience, one of my favorites is the one where a man dies and meets his dog and won’t enter any place that won’t allow his beloved friend in too. And as someone, maybe Will Rogers, said, if dogs aren’t allowed in heaven, then I want to go where they go. But the story I like best is the Rainbow Bridge. There one day I hope to re-unite with Cisco, and a few others of his loving kind who have been important too, in my life, though none more than he. Along with many humans who have been too. But this is not about them, it is about him.

I will never stop missing him, I will never stop loving him. I will be 60 in a few weeks and he is the last dog I will ever have and he wasn’t even mine. I’m his grandpa, not his dad, though as has been pointed out to me, he IS my dog. Which I do know. And I love him with all my heart still. 12 1/2 years alone together, and 13 1/2 years of life is not nearly enough. I am NOT done loving him and he is NOT done loving me. He has been my rock, strong when I’ve been weak. And had I the power I would have spared him this weakness. He has been a monster, strong as any truck all of his life, that he cannot be what he has always been was killing him. And me. I know it is his time, but I feel a Judas nonetheless. I pray he will forgive me for what I have done. I WILL never stop missing him. My furry grandchild, my beloved Cisco.

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An update and a few words

For those of you following my son’s story on CaringBridge, you’ll know that is where I’ve done most of my writing the past, nearly three months now. His accident and his slow recovery, now beginning a long and painful rehabilitation process, has consumed my time and attention pretty much completely since April 23.

But he is recovering, his last surgery, we hope – there is some question yet as to whether he suffered an injury to his left shoulder that will need more than rehabilitation, was three weeks ago to perform plastic surgery, a skin graft, on his left foot and heel. That was successful and in another week he should be able to bear weight on that leg, for now they are just working his right leg, having him stand, last week that required assistance, this week, yesterday, he got up himself and stood on his right leg for a full minute. That doesn’t sound like much but considering he came within an eyelash of dying April 23rd, that it took 12 hours to stabilize him enough for surgery his doctors weren’t sure he’d survive, that coming out of that surgery they thought they would have to amputate his left foot about halfway up to the knee and that he then spent the next 5 weeks unconscious, tethered and sedated. Tethered because when he’d come up a bit out of the sedation, he’d buck like a bronco trying to get out of that bed, he did NOT like being tied at the wrists, though that was only to prevent him pulling tubes out of himself, tubes that were keeping him alive, and sedated because when he wasn’t he’d buck like a bronco. Yes, circular, but the truth nonetheless.

There were periods during those five weeks I thought he was gone, his eyes would open look blankly at the ceiling, no light in them at all, no recognition of anything, then close again, but we were assured there had been no deprivation of oxygen so no anoxia and no brain damage, which in itself is a bit of a miracle. I’ve told him, we all have, that he definitely had an angel sitting on his shoulder that night, because in the interim, I’ve seen many stories (in the way that once you get a different car, you suddenly notice them everywhere, when before you hadn’t noticed them at all?) of people having the sort of accident he did and virtually none of those people lived. He has no memory of the accident at all, a blessing that.

But at 5 weeks he came back to us, got moved to a long term acute care facility, got pneumonia and went back to the original hospital, North Memorial, got that cured and went back to Bethesda where he is still. His real rehabilitation only began last week. He still has a lot of pain in his right thigh, understandable considering they cut a tunnel from mid calf up over his knee a few more inches to insert the rod into his femur, then cut another six inch slice in the side of that thigh so they could repair the femur and attach the rod. There’s a lot of scar tissue there, cut muscles take a long time to heal, I recall from a long time ago when I had my appendix out the old way when I was 15. But it has begun, it will be a full year before he is really back to normal again, or as close to it as he’ll ever get. No idea how long he’ll be in a facility, but his medical bills are over $120,000 as of 7/20, a small portion paid by his auto insurance, we are a no fault state and they can’t look to the driver because he lied about having insurance when in fact he had none.

And so many people think we do not need single payor national health care. I’d like to prescribe some medicine for every legislator, every lobbyist, every lawyer, every health insurance official myself and that would be to sit down and watch Michael Moore’s wonderful documentary, Sicko. We brag so much about our health care but our statistics are dismal compared to other countries in virtually every category. Oh, sure, the RICH have wonderful health care, but no one else, and many have none at all. Single payor works in every country Michael visited, CUBA has better health care than we do, Americans go THERE to have procedures done they can’t get done here and at virtually no cost. Yet we have this cowboy mentality that says if it is American it is the best. The real truth is: That ain’t true no more. Not by a long way. We need to get there sooner rather than later and if that means a few HMO exec’s stop making 7 figure salaries, well so be it. We could do this for a fraction of what we are spending in Iraq. Yet lobbyists are screaming as if the world would end should this wonderful thing come to be, the AMA, which represents about 20% of American doctors is dead set against it, we hear a LOT about them, but not the other 80%, many of whom DO support the idea as in the best interest of their patients. We could DO preventative health care rather than emergency medicine which is SO much more expensive. It WILL happen, even if in increments. Because it makes so much sense spiritually, humanly and fiscally, though all the arguments use those three things as a basis to deny this need to the American people. Lest anyone think, I became an aficionado of this idea after Evan’s accident, well dig through the archives a bit, lol. And believe me when I tell you I gave copies of Sicko away as Christmas gifts last year. It is an idea whose time has come, my son’s desperate situation notwithstanding. So anyone reading this, I’ll debate it with you, I’ll send you a copy of Sicko, and I’ll ask you to ask your Representative and Senators to support it. It is time, this is right, and we need act. I hope to be here more often, but time still is constrained, though it is in me that will not be so for much longer. We’ll see what happens then. much love, :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

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Dark night turned into a bright new day

I’ve not been here for a bit and while doing some housecleaning thought to check back in here and noticed my last post. I thought I’d best update things!

Evan spent a month in the Critical Care Unit of the ICU but last Thursday was moved to the “normal” ICU. He had us all very worried for much of the month and I’ve spent most of my non-working hours there with him. He was mostly comatose, kept that way, for three weeks. On the rare occasion his eyes would open, they were a blank, vacant stare. No sign of him at all. But last week, he suddenly began improving again.

They had begun weaning him off the respirator last weekend, until then he had been unable to sustain breathing on his own at all. I think the problem was, not only the severity of his asthma, but the smallness of the passenger seat compartment in the vehicle he was riding. He had severe bruising on both sides and I think his sides were hammered by the center console and the caving in of the passenger door multiple times during the accident, severely bruising his lungs. Once THEY healed, he was able to be weaned off the respirator, by the end of last weekend, he was breathing on his own entirely, and Monday night when I got there to visit him, the first thing I noticed was the room seemed empty – that was because the respirator had been removed. He was breathing entirely on his own, through the tracheotomy site, receiving slightly moistened air, but initiating breaths on his own. His improvement since then has been remarkable.

Friday evening when I arrived, they had installed an ingenious little device that allowed him to talk, on his own, hands still tethered, but when I came into the room, he looked at me and said, “hi, pop”. My son was back in his body, mind lucid, no memory of the accident but fully conscious and hardly able to believe he had missed a whole month. His wounds are healing well, he still has a lot of pain with the right leg and hip fracture and the left ankle is being kept going by another device, a wound vac, that is usually used with burn victims, which flushes the area 24/7 with fluids and nutrients. The sole of his foot was reattached with staples, which were removed this past week, as the reattachment “took” and there is healing going on there. It is still likely he will need a graft of some kind as he lost so much tissue, but he will keep his foot and a plastic surgeon will make it functional. He will be moving from the hospital to a care center in two to three weeks, where he will begin rehabilitation, to learn to walk all over again and regain the strength in his body. He has virtually none now, they removed the tethers from his wrists yesterday, but after over a month in one position, everything is sort of locked in one place and it is excruciating to move, even though vocational rehabilitation has already begun to help him regain range of motion and strength in his arms and shoulders. Anyone who had seen him bucking like a bronco as the medications would wear off over the past three weeks, trying to get out of bed, would find it hard to believe that he is now this week. Drugs are powerful fuel though and the enforced position has left him weak as a kitten. But the news is all good and he will again regain the strength of a lion, it will just take some time. And more time with him is what we have now, thanks to the angels of mercy, they call RN’s, who work 12 hour shifts with just two patients in the Critical Care Unit and whose professionalism, kindness, expertise and optimism kept our whole group of family and friends going these past four weeks. They are selfless and dedicated and marvelous human beings. And their ranks are being cut by 100 thanks to the skinflint we have as a Governor, Tim Pawlenty, Mr. No Taxes on the rich, who is preparing to end any sort of medical care for single adults, employed or not, able to care for themselves or not, so his rich friends aren’t inconvenienced in any way. For a party, Republican, that bills itself as Christian they seem to know little of how Christ treated the poor and infirm. That will be another post. This one I will end with a small prayer of gratitude to my Jenna and the angels who work with her for giving me back my only child. Thank you. Much love, :^) gene

If today brings even one choice your way
choose to be a bringer of the light :^) gene

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