One of my fans sent me a note to let me know that “nobody reads what you write anyway.”
It makes me laugh and reminds me of how I told a girl from the midwest that I faked every erection.
She immediately protested that it wasn’t true and then I watched her realize how ridiculous it was.
I didn’t reply to my fan because their weak insult meant I had already won. They had taken the time to find me online and to write me, that sort of effort meant I had their attention.
And though I was tempted to tell them I was typing slowly so they could keep up and make some crack about their living in lollipop land I chose silence.
Silence didn’t mean I was stumped or unaware of their presence. I often see far more than I comment on.
If people really want to engage with me I let them make the effort. If it is important they will and if it is not, well I have a busy life.
Facebook memories took me on a journey today. I set aside two minutes and shared the following.
That iPhone 5c with 8GB grew over the last 11 years.
It’s a 17pro with 256GB that syncs with a MacBook Air and Ultra 3 watch.
When I’m not helping to keep Apple execs rich or making sure I’m always connected I look wistfully into space and remember when a bike and endless summer days filled my fancy.
Eventually the bike was replaced with a car that was built the same year I was born.
There wasn’t any AC, but it had AM radio.
No Apple Car play, no power steering or power windows.
The Thomas Guide was my GPS.
I remember talking with my father about how many bills he didn’t have to worry about when I was a kid.
No cell, no internet, no Satellite radio.
I remember watching 007 get the coolest spy gear and asking Dad if he thought we’d ever get stuff like that too.
Funny to see those images inside my head, the ten and forty something year old me talking with my father.
Eight years ago I was in LA
watching him sleep in a rehab facility knowing that pancreatic cancer was winning.
Didn’t know that we only had another 14 days left with him.
Sometimes time feels endless and sometimes it moves at breathtaking speed.
Jews talk about “The Three Weeks.” It’s a time of mourning that commemorates the destruction of the first and second Temples as well as many other tragic moments in our history.
The Three Weeks starts on the 17th of the Hebrew month of Tammuz. Since the Hebrew calendar is based upon a lunar and not a Solar calendar dates for Jewish holidays sometimes feel like they move around.
One of my teachers used to drill us on remembering the dates really didn’t change, the first of Tishrei is Rosh Hashanah, the 25th of Kislev is Chanukah, the 15th of Nisan is when Pesach begins…
Dad died on July 23, 2018, which was just after Tisha B’Av. If I am not mistaken this will be the first year his yahrzheit coincides with it.
Anyhoo, in July 2018 I made a couple of trips out to LA to visit him. Each time I went I wrote about it on Facebook and the blog.
I don’t have anything set up on the blog to remind me of that time, if I am interested, I have to go looking for it.
Facebook is different, those FB memories show me when my own three weeks start.
The posts in which I talk about him provide a journey through his last few weeks of life.
It wasn’t intentional for me, not until he went into the hospice and even then I don’t think I was thinking that I wanted to memorialize the moments.
It was a way to vent and to manage.
I wasn’t in a position in which I could focus solely on me. I had responsibilities, I wasn’t just a son, I was a father, husband, uncle, brother.
That’s not a complaint, it is recognition that when you reach certain places in life you don’t get to focus solely on you and that is ok.
That is normal. That’s how life goes. Adulting is when you do things even though you don’t want to do them.
What The Hematologist Said
If you read the prior post you know Nurse Stacey said that capsule I swallowed finished its fantastic voyage and discovered no issues.
So the GI said it was time to see the hematologist and ask about the anemia.
I rolled on down the highway today and walked through the doors of that same oncology center I got my Iron infusions in and met with the doc.
The doc says my blood work looks normal and scheduled a follow up in four months to confirm that all is well.
I am grateful for it all. Health is of paramount importance and sometimes we don’t lay enough value upon it.
Overall I have had relatively few issues in my life with this last year being the odd exception.
With a mix of work and luck it will remain that way and I won’t see any more surgeries of hospital stays again.
Though I do concede I am more cognizant of miscellaneous pains and strange sensations than I used to be.
Some of them make me stop and try to figure out what just happened. But if they don’t stick around I just shrug my shoulders and keep going, I have learned I can’t power through everything but I can still power through quite a bit.
Nobody Reads What You Write Anyway
Let’s circle back to the beginning for a moment and set a few expectations and or thoughts down.
A much younger version of me wanted to become a professional sports reporter.
It didn’t happen for a variety of reasons, most of which is because I didn’t push hard enough for it.
I have gotten paid to write and have a few slots on my resume that attest to the times in which my ability to communicate via text put food on the table.
But I don’t put these missives out with the hope I am going to be discovered and be paid to become the next great novelist.
I won’t complain if it happens but I think the possibility is slightly greater than my winning the lottery or playing left field for the Dodgers.
Not impossible, but not probable either and I am ok with that.
I do this because I enjoy writing, it is that simple. I do this because sometimes the fastest way to get clarity on thoughts, feelings and or ideas is to write them down.
So I’ll stick with it until I don’t feel like it any longer or decide a different location offers a better arrangement.
And that my friends is all I have to say about that.
(yes, a version of this appears on my substack.)
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