The fear is gone

My parents are coming in tomorrow, all 162 years of them. Daunting on a good day, catastrophic when I'm not feeling it, and it would be a latter day for me.
Usually I have hope for a pleasant and rewarding visit. Not so much this time, I've become a shadow of my optimistic self. All of that can change in an instant, perhaps a little caffeine or a nice sugar buzz. But, without much cooperation or enthusiasm from the fellas, the next week is most likely going to be a trial.
The bright side of our spring break is that my nephew is coming as well. He will, unbeknownst to him, provide a foil for the usual routine of a massive build up of tension and a huge blow up to follow. With his presence, the dynamic isn't there to provide for the basics that usually make for a fun romp, and without those tools My Mom might actually just be able to make it unpleasant rather then the usual tragicom program she takes on the road.

The shadow never seems to fade away

Often when I go to Kaiser, when they ask for my medical record number they mention that it has to be one of the lowest, in other words, earliest numbers they've seen. And, it is, my parents joined when they moved here from Chicago. I was two; and I have somehow managed to stay with the organization since then.
Then there are the people, mostly ones that I work with, that as soon as you mention Kaiser they start on a litany of how they'd never be part of that plan; "you don't get to choose your doctor", "it's socialist and really bad."
I don't argue any more, why bother? Am I going to convince people of something they're reconciled to believe? Probably not, so I just sit with my patronizing smug self and know better.
There are few things more fucked up in this world than people without access to, I won't even say health care, I'll just say medical assistance. Because, that's what it is. It's not a concept or an idea, nor a theoretical paradigm. It's a given.

If I could change your mind

It struck me the other day, that a midlife crisis not necessarily be a problem. It can be a time of reflection and change rather than fear and acting out. Or maybe be full of contradictions as so much of life is.
I have a number of friends, my age, or close to it, who are changing careers, taking classes, ending and beginning relationships, and a plethora of other behaviors that are setting things in motion. It's very much like a second adolescence, an opportunity to take advantage of a transitional time when there's an opening between being a parent of young children and looking for products that contain a lot of fiber.
Then, there's me; I think I probably missed the boat, it's not the first one either, there have been many golden opportunities to move forward, and I did take one with starting this blog four years ago this month. I am very lucky to have found this venue to enunciate all that swirls around in my far too large head. But in other places I live with a paralysis of sorts, an inability to set forth on a course that would bring the dream alive, and perhaps, that is the very reason I can't.

Absolutely nothing

If anyone needs to know, I now can differentiate between grave and serious injuries. My Nephew's ,who was in a vehicle that drove over a hundred and fifty pound bomb in Afghanistan, are serious. I also know what an IED is, and which vertebrae can be broken yet still enable a person to walk. These things, I'd rather just judge them from afar, from my stance of this is a terrible and completely unnecessary war. One that has proven nothing except that there are plenty of people who are dying and being injured in the name of, well it isn't love, that's for sure.
We live in so many worlds, there are the places that we have to just sit with our thoughts rather than tell people, even though they don't hesitate. Then there are the like minded who you can become so eloquent with; defining your principles and where you draw the line.
And then, there is the person whom you've watched grow up, tumbling into everything, not thinking about the repercussions, and who loves being a Marine because it's the adventure and rush he was looking for, and all I can be, in the most specific and accurate state, is numb.

There was a time

A light subject today, life and death; or actually living knowing that we end. A few conversations over the last week where the subject keeps popping up. Perhaps as my friends and I age, these matters become more relevant or pertinent.
I've always had death on my mind, it's what keeps me from fully living, because part of me is always trying to figure out what the point is. Not a very positive approach, but when your Mom tells you at five years old that there is nothing else, and your just going to be in the ground dead, then you have no notions of angels and harp music. At that age, trying to conceive of what an end to living means was just not imaginable. Yet, I kind of tried and pretty much did not like the inevitability of it and remain in that state of mind.
For my children I've taken a variant approach from what I was stuck with. When they were young and asked me what came next, I told them another place, even better, and with great potential. I have a statement for all that we can't know, including the Tooth Fairy and Santa. "I can neither prove or disprove their existence." And that, is truly what I believe.

I'm lost and I'm found

Hurt Locker was not that good of a movie, but it had to win because it was an acceptable, not too politically overt war movie. District 9 did a far better and more effective job of telling a story of the chaos and generational disaster that become the norm in a country devastated by history and greed.

Speaking of history, we went to Burton yesterday, for the annual sojourn of the search for simple carbs. We were very successful. Every year we look at the chart up on the wall that they've been keeping since the 50's when they began serving up pancakes at the Volunteer Fire Department. The numbers tell the story, dwindling every year.

It's only me who wants

An awful lot has happened in the last week or so. We had to put Stella down, she kind of stroked out on us and because we waited too long with our last Bouvier, we were not about to let this one suffer because we were at a loss. Then, my old friend Pleurisy came by for some coffee and a chat, and to top it all off, for the first time that I know about at least, I had to be woken out of a dream because I was screaming incoherently, or depending on Eamon's mood, making noises not unlike a dolphin. I'll spare us a description of the dream, but I will say there were rifles, gymnasiums and some guy named Eddy, not at all interesting to anyone but myself, except that it brings to mind the times in life when something happens and, I've heard people say this so I know it's not just me, "did that really happen or was it in a dream I had." Both is really the answer. Because as we dream there is a part of our mind that knows it's as real as can be, that's why the relief or contempt upon waking is palpable.

In a way, it's good that the fellas got to see what it really means to be a pet owner, that you have to act and behave in ways that will serve beyond your own desires and wishes.

Next week Stella will join Lucy on the mantel and we'll just envision them hanging out, just like on the card the Vet sent us of a dog and a cat in this case, sitting side by side on a mountain overlooking a valley, stars glimmering in the heavenly sky and perhaps a dolphin or two swimming in the ocean below.