Howard's Autumn

Regular readers may be wondering why I’ve not mentioned Howard in a while. Frankly, it’s because I’ve not had the chance to visit with him since May. Two to three times a month, I’ve gone to his house and found it dark; frequently enough to cause nervousness.

Tonight, I drove by his place and saw his son’s truck and a light shining from the kitchen. Pulling into the driveway, I saw Brent busy in the kitchen. I didn’t see Howard.

As I plodded up the brick walkway to the house, I saw Howard sitting up a bit behind the drapes. I exhaled.

“Peter, how are you?” came a robust voice. There was my friend, looking better than I remembered and genuinely happy to see me. Brent also offered his warmest greeting. “Go pour us bourbons,” Howard ordered.

We traded news with rapid-fire speed: he wanted to know how work was progressing, how the gang fared from the old watering hole, anything new at the farm. I waited until I could ask how he’s doing. “I’m great. I now have hospice coming – nurses, doctors, social workers – and my pastor comes monthly. I'm 88 and I told God I’m ready – but He’s still saying, ‘tough shit, I’m not ready for you.' ” Who can’t admire that bit of Divine revelation? 

I admit I wasn’t surprised by his revelation –but it was incongruent with how good he looked. “Oh, I have no balance, my left leg doesn’t work so well, and I’m near the end. I’m feeling pretty good because Brent comes by daily, my other son comes weekly, and we share breakfast and/or dinner daily.”

Brent was busy preparing dinner and said that his friend Melanie would soon be there. I said I didn’t want to interrupt. “It will be at least 45 minutes before we eat – sit and enjoy,” assured Brent.

Howard shared that two weeks prior, he struggled to drive home from his beloved daily trip to the bookstore. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, so I’ve parked the car. I’m done driving. I’m home-bound.”

A couple of things struck me: that he willingly ceded his independence in the interest of the public good and the strength and joy he got from his family.

I didn’t stay long but was buoyed by his, his son’s and his son’s friend’s insistence that I visit anytime. I’m a mess of happy and sad.



Image reported to be in the public domain and available here:
https://openclipart.org/detail/196299/autumn-trees-with-a-bird-by-martinaledermann-196299

Weighty Issues

I’ve never been skinny. For the most part I’m usually somewhat height/weight proportionate, but sometimes I’ve put on some pounds for all kinds of reasons – stress, medications, bad diet, personal failings, medical issues.

What I don’t understand is why people – some of whom are friends – find it acceptable to call me out on my weight in public. In the last few months, one friend remarked how much fatter I’ve gotten during what had been a great dinner among several friends. Another, whom I hadn’t seen in 20 years, didn’t say hello, just said, “You’ve gotten chubby.” Another, in front of about 10 people, patted his stomach and said “Looks like winter was good to you.”

Do people think they aren’t being hurtful? Do they believe because we are friends that they have license to humiliate me?

I am blessed with a pretty good mind. I wouldn’t, however, remark to someone, “You probably can’t understand this,” or “I’m surprised you got through school,” or “I can’t believe you haven’t read ___________,” or “Let me explain this so you might understand.”

The media is full of stories about the “obesity crisis” in America and those of us on the plus side are well aware of the macro and our own personal situation. Many of us are trying. It’s particularly disconcerting when one has made some progress – maybe two pounds in a week – and we’re met with disparaging comments. And, of course, we’re supposed to smile and not react.

I am embarrassed to say that I told the “chubby” commentator to “Go f*** yourself!” But it did feel good.

I know that there is much more to me than my weight just as I know there is so much more to each of my friends than their failings – and I’m certain I'm guilty of some insensitive remarks. I’m going to work to make sure I’m positive to those around me.

I might even keep my “go f*** yourself” reactions in check.





Image reported to be in the public domain and available here:   Scale

Think globally, live locally

Ground war in Gaza; Malaysian jet shot out of the sky; 50,000+ children being abandoned on the U.S. border; criminals well-armed and rampant in gun-controlled Chicago; crowd beating of man stopping to help a child accidently hit; students poisoning teachers; gunmen shooting two-year olds; free speech challenges; religious freedom adjudicated; millions of cars deemed unsafe to drive; police officers ambushed by gang members; idiots on the left/idiots on the right.

Why do we even get out of bed?

I recently remarked (via FB) that I’m the luckiest guy on the planet – I stand by that statement. My post was immediately after two hours of telephone conversation with a former mentor who needed, well, mentoring; or, at least an ear.

In the previous few weeks, I’ve been able to tackle a big project with a former mentee, knock out some delicious eats for a party of 130+, hear an update from a young man nearing the end of his ROTC training and the start of a most promising military career, help some people direct their donations to some very important needs, praise and correct, and take my mother to lunch.

The farm has a few upgrades; I’m involved in a couple weddings this summer; found an amazing deal on a power washer; delivered good news and bad news; tended my little garden; over-tipped the fellows who spent extra time washing the truck; helped my alma mater; scored par on two holes.

Chores, for the most part, are up to date and the weekend is well-planned.

National and international challenges are real and deserve attention and understanding – but, ought they never prevent us from living life locally.

Go say “hello” to your neighbors.






Image reported in the public domain and available here:  
http://www.clipartpal.com/clipart_pd/education/schoolnewspaper_11676.html