random thoughts - 11/7/10

First, a few tidbits regarding the number 71:

• In mathematics: it's the 20th prime number, directly adjacent (in the odd sequence) to the 21st prime number (73), which is also known as a 'twin prime.'
• The number of judges on the Sanhedrin, the court in ancient Israel responsible for hearing the cases of criminals who facing the death penalty for their crimes.
• The registry number for the US Navy's nuclear aircraft carrier (CVN-71), the USS Theodore Roosevelt.
• The number of goals scored by Wayne Gretzky (with the Edmonton Oilers) during the 1982-83 NHL hockey season.
• The number of different characters that can be typed with a traditional English keyboard, excluding uppercase letters, without repeating any.
• The number of pounds I have lost since my surgery on 8/3/10. (!!)

The number 60 has become fascinating to me this week as well.  Not only is 60 the sum of another pair of twin primes (29 + 31), it is the sum of four consecutive prime numbers (11 + 13 + 17 + 19), and is adjacent to twin primes (59, 61).  As we all found out this past Tuesday, 60 also represents the number of House seats (so far, at least) that were won by Republican candidates across the nation.  (there are still 9 undecided races that are, as they say, 'too close to call.')  Interestingly, perhaps only to me, the number of Senate seats won by Republicans is the largest single-digit divisor of the number 60 (6), so that's another cool thing.  *note: for someone who always hated math, these kinds of relationships are actually neat.  probably because no one has asked me to do any kinds of proofs, corollaries, or derivatives of same, but still.*

In any case, this entry is not really meant to be a mathlete's compendium of scatterplot facts and quirky numerological trivia.  Instead, as any 'election results' Google/Bing search will demonstrate, this week really has just been all about the numbers.  How many seats would the Democrats lose or keep?  How many Tea Party candidates would win out over their Democrat (or in some cases, Republican) incumbent opponents?  How many pundits would conclude that - whatever the result - the election was simply a 'referendum on the President,' as they have in virtually every midterm election since Senate seats stopped being handed out like the candy I enthusiastically distributed last Sunday night?  Because this is the week of numbers, then, I have a couple more I'd like to discuss.

4 million - the number of children (and pregnant women) who are now eligible for healthcare under the Children's Health Insurance Program (CHIP).

$30 million - the amount of money used to reinvigorate the federal Pell Grant system for college assistance.

3219 - the bill number for the new veterans' benefits law, which takes effect in the next couple of months, and which greatly expands the assistance given to new and old vets, including increases in education and living assistance, burial and funeral benefits, enhanced employment opportunities (particularly for severely disabled vets), and many other sweet new programs.

3 - the number of WWI veterans verified as still living as of 10/3/10. Frank Buckles, a US citizen who served in the ambulance corps near the Western Front, currently lives near Charles Town, WV.  He is 109.

464 - the number of Medals of Honor awarded during WWII, 266 posthumously.  The only Medal of Honor ever received by a member of the US Coast Guard in history was awarded during WWII.

1.5 million - estimated number of US WWII vets still alive as of 9/1/10.  (no figures are currently available on the percentage of women in this number.)

This Veterans Day (11/11), it is incredibly important to remember that the heroes who have served in all of this nation's armed conflicts usually started out as 'regular joes (or janes).'  They simply answered a call and served - with varying levels of dignity and integrity.  While no one will argue today that they always made the best decisions (see Lt. Callie, Viet Nam), the fact remains that these people have seen and done things that most of us hope we never even have to imagine.  I have met many servicemembers and while I don't always agree with their positions or viewpoints, I cannot deny that each and every one of them deserve respect and recognition for the invaluable services they have provided and continue to provide to this nation.

After this week of what is laughingly termed 'battle,' I urge us all to remember that picking apart an election is probably the closest any of us will ever get to an actual conflict.  For that, I raise a glass to Dylan, Justun, Jaime, Uncle Jenks, and the countless others who have committed themselves to a life of service and to whom we all owe a great deal, and who have never asked us for any thanks.

Thank you, veterans - this one's for you.

milestones

so....

today, 10/3/10, marks two months since i had my surgery.  since that day, i've officially lost 60 lbs and three pants sizes, in addition to one shirt size (and probably more).  oddly enough, my socks still fit.

i feel as though i should be elated, or at least more enthusiastic than i feel - however, the events of recent weeks (when five young men have committed suicide because of bullying) leads my mind down a different path.  i want to take this opportunity to tell anyone and everyone reading this that you are perfect, exactly the way that you are.  we all go through rough spots in life - sometimes in the space of an hour - where we feel that we aren't pretty enough, or smart enough, or thin enough, or whatever enough, to be a functional part of society.  lies.  it's all lies.

there's no such thing as pretty enough, etc. there's only being who you are.  if the world isn't ready for who you are, they will try to tell you that you are less than, or other than.  more lies.  if you are reading this, then that means you are breathing, which leads to the inevitable conclusion that you are blessed because you can read, you can see, you are still able to draw air into your lungs.  these are all blessings to which countless others are not privy, and they alone are reasons to believe that there is something good out there for you.

i am thrilled at the weight loss i've achieved, and i've even had my moments of standing in front of the mirror, flexing my newly visible neck and arm muscles, endlessly fascinated with the reflection.  i'm here to tell you, though - no new clothes will give me the same sense of satisfaction as knowing that no matter how much weight i lose, i am myself.  i may get more comfortable with the 'me' the world sees, but i am slowly realizing that, in the immortal words of Stuart Smalley, 'i'm good enough, i'm smart enough, and gosh-darn-it, people like me.'

my heart weeps for the five individuals who couldn't see past the ugliness the world threw at them.  i weep for their families, who will never know the men those boys might have become.  i weep for the bully-ers, who will live forever with the knowledge that they share some (possibly infinitesimal, purely incidental) responsibility for one of those deaths.  mostly though, i weep at the thought that those deaths ever had occasion to occur.  if you are reading this, you are one of my closest friends, and i appreciate you far more than this limited medium could ever express.  for understanding those limitations, i thank you.  believe me when i say that i could not have done any of this (the past two months) without any one of you.  i love each and every one of you and i hope that i have never given you reason to believe that you are lacking in any way.

there are some who claim that suicide is the ultimate in selfishness.  to anyone who believes that, i would counsel you to look inside yourself and examine whatever dark corner you have in which you keep those thoughts of not-enough-ness.  suicide, at least in the context of the past three weeks, is the result of the cancer those thoughts metastasize into when they are not exposed to the light of day, or worse - when they are shoveled in from the outside, some external source who chances upon the very most hurtful words anyone could ever say to another.  your mission: go read a book of Emily Dickinson's poetry (or as much of it as you can stomach - she's not for everyone), search for those hidden, necrotic thoughts, and excise them.  remove them and flush the area with antiseptic.  repeat as necessary.  remember always that you are enough, just by being here.  you can never know the weight of your own words, negative or positive, and you can never predict what words will have the greatest impact to which person.  if for that reason alone, guard the words you say to others carefully.

i don't mean to preach, unless it be to myself.  in many ways this is my variation on Rilke's _Letters to a Young Poet_.  please do remember that there is at least one person in this world (that would be yours truly) who believes that you can literally do anything you put your mind to - be it walking on the moon, finally finishing that novel, catching the last elusive firefly before autumn sets in, writing a law that will change the world, or even just going to the grocery store and cleaving faithfully to your shopping list.  whatever it is that you want to do, you have a #1 fan right here.  you are able! you are fearsome!

you are my friends, and i love you.  don't ever forget how many ills those three words can heal, or how many scars their absence or neglect can cause.

in memoriam - for privacy's sake i won't name the five young men here, but a non-extensive Google/Bing search will yield their names.  to the departed, may you find the acceptance and love in heaven that you were denied here.

magic number: 42

so campers, here are a few fun facts about the number 42.

• the angle at which sunlight reflects through a raindrop (or more precisely, a bunch of raindrops) to form a rainbow.
• the atomic number of Molybdenum.
• the number of results displayed if a person Googles (or Bings) the phrase "the answer to life the universe and everything."
• number of generations in the Gospel of Matthew's genealogy of Jesus.
• one of The Numbers - 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42 - featured in _Lost_.
• the jersey number of Jackie Robinson, the only number ever to be retired by every single Major League Baseball team.
• the number of spots on a pair of standard 6-sided dice.
• the last size in men's jeans that retail stores sell on the shelves outside of the Big 'n' Tall section.

Obviously it is this last trivium on which I would like to focus.  this past weekend, Susanne and I went beach camping in Rehoboth Beach, DE, and at the end of that [fantastic] trip, we made a stop at the outlets so I could purchase some pants to get me through the winter without exposing myself unintentionally when my pants inevitably ended up falling down.

Great was my satisfaction and delight when I approached the shelves of jeans with trepidation, selected a size 42x30, straight-cut jeans, soldiered off to the fitting room, and jumped right into those jeans.  Gone are the days of shopping online exclusively (because I couldn't find anything in the store that fit me) - I can literally walk into any store in the entire outlet mall (with the possible exception of Yankee Candle) and pick something that I can get into.

The very best thing about the number 42?  In all likelihood, this time next year it will be in my rearview mirror. :)

autumn

top 5 reasons not to have weight-loss surgery in August:

1) Blue Moon - Harvest Moon seasonal ale
2) Dogfish Head - Punkin' Ale
3) Sam Adams - Octoberfest
4) Sierra Nevada - Tumbler seasonal brown ale
5) O'Fallon - Pumpkin Beer

as i walked through the grocery this morning, stocking up on ultra-portable snack items (string cheese, olives from the olive bar, bananas, etc), i unwittingly walked past the beer/wine section, where the first thing i saw was a giant cooler case full of Harvest Moon.  instantly, my stomach and beer-sense went on full alert and i was literally foaming at the mouth.  all that excitement came to a screeching halt in almost the same moment, as i remembered that i won't be partaking of any of these fine brews this particular season.  you're probably thinking - hey, leaves more room for cider and pumpkin pie, right?  well, technically that's correct - having less beer in one's stomach does tend to make room for other things.  the chasm in my soul created by the loss of my time-honored autumn tradition of indulging in a glass of fine, spicy, malty, punkin-y goodness is a bit more to worry about.  ultimately, of course, there are worse things (such as - in no particular order - gout, sleeping sickness, enduring October as a Cubs fan, and weighing 50 lbs more than i do now, as i did those scant weeks ago) - but doggone it, a person is allowed to be sad.

i know i'll survive these coming months, with all their Fezziwig Ale/Winter Welcome/Holiday Porter/Cranberry Lambic festivities, but today's post is all about fully appreciating now what i did not appreciate last October: this season is practically custom-made for drinking beer (82 million Germans can't be that wrong), and as i've noted in previous posts, nothing should ever be taken for granted.

so go forth - snuggle up in front of the faux-fireplace with one of your favorite autumnal brews and soak it in (or drink it, it's up to you).  i'm giving you fair warning now, though: you and i have a date next October for some serious overcompensating for this year's brew-less autumn.


Official pounds lost (since pre-op diet started): 48 and counting. :)

reality check

sue and i were sitting in our hotel room on Long Island sunday night when i happened to pop on Facebook.  as soon as i logged in, i was IM'd by a friend of mine from college, asking if i had received her text message.  i hadn't, and told her that.  she then told me that one of our mutual friends in college had just lost her husband as a result of an apparent, and incredibly sudden, heart attack.  my first instinct was to say she must have the wrong information, since the guy she was talking about was too young...we had all known each other and hung out in college many times, and i just couldn't believe that someone a year younger than i am could possibly have disappeared in the blink of an eye.  then it hit me like a body blow, reminding me of his wife, my good friend, and their 7-week-old daughter.  i leaned back against the sofa and just cried.  tears for the baby who will never have the opportunity to know what an amazing gentleman her father was, except through stories; tears for my friend, who has lost her soulmate and best friend; tears for the incredible person Jonate already was, and all the promise of the man he would surely have become; and tears for the powerful reminder of the true brevity of our time in this world and the uncertainty of tomorrow.

once my tears were spent, i realized i had been weeping for almost ten minutes, the perfect medicine for my bruised heart, and with that realization came thanks, regret, and trepidation.  thanks for the friends, family, and doctors who helped us get through the surgery; and thanks that we were financially able to take that step in the first place.  regret: for the many wasted opportunities that have slipped by, sometimes without notice; for the harsh words i've shared with those closest and most important to me, never realizing until now that those could be the last they hear from me; and regret for the times when i had the chance to show someone love or compassion, or to offer a shoulder to cry on, and didn't.  trepidation - what if this drastic change i've made is too little, too late?  though i've seen some incredible results, and my doctor tells me i'm healthy (and getting ever healthier), the loss of so young a friend stirs my insecurities and deepest fears in a way that heart palpitations and getting tired too quickly on the treadmill never did.

in the long run, i know that Brandy will heal and that Madison (Jonate's daughter) will come to treasure the memories and stories she hears of her father, and that she will be proud of him without ever having known him.  as surely as i know that, i know that this event has changed me in a way that i'm not yet able to recognize, but it feels something like a Scrooge moment.  i feel more resolve to take the extra time to share a laugh or a cry with a friend, to breathe in the aura of innocence and adventure that permeates time spent with my nieces (and eventually, our own children), to make every moment count, to end every conversation with a loved one on a positive note - letting the person i just talked to know that they are and always will be dear to me, and most of all - to love with reckless abandon, making sure that my sue knows that she is in every breath i take and every beat of my heart. if we are blessed with children of our own, i hope and pray that i will be able to watch them grow and help guide them, as i have done with my three beautiful nieces.

i leave you with this: if there is someone you haven't talked to in a while - whether it's a family member with whom you had a falling out, or a friend you've been missing, or even a spouse that you feel you never see because of ever-diverging schedules - take the time to pick up the phone or write a note or plan a dinner together.  let them know how important they are to you and how much your relationship means to you.  and then go eat something terrible for you and luscious - if tomorrow's not coming, make sure you have something memorable in your belly and lingering on your palate when you go. :)

In memoriam: Jonathan Duran Scales (1979-2010) - we love you brother, and we'll miss you.

win some, lose some

most people, when they hear this phrase, immediately jump to the idea of intermittent success, like a basketball team (say, our hometown Mystics) falling short of an undefeated season.  for my purposes, i would submit a different interpretation, which follows.

since my surgery, i've lost 23 lbs (32 total since beginning the pre-op diet), and i'm feeling pretty great...at least right now.  last weekend, i fell victim to a super-aggressive, sudden-onset sinus/ear infection, which required equally assertive antibiotics (in the form of that old standard, the Z-pak) to tame.  while i was at the walk-in clinic receiving both diagnosis and cure, the doctor asked me if i'd been hospitalized recently.  i told her about the little incident in Costa Rica, and she informed me that the human body is incredibly vulnerable in the weeks following a major surgery, because the immune system kind of gets stretched to its limits.  for this reason, it has become common practice for anesthesia teams to administer prophylactic antibiotics intravenously prior to the procedure (this happened to me, too), the idea being that they will serve as a buffer for any possible infection that might result from the incisions, etc.  this is all great, and i'm heartily in favor of such practices.  apparently, however, those supercharged IV antibiotics sort of check out once the procedure is over, leaving the immune system to fend for itself after about a week.  hence, the sinus infection i contracted met only nominal resistance when it attacked my body - something similar to what the German army experienced in April of 1940, when their invasion of Denmark was completed less than six hours later (the shortest military campaign of all time). 

in any event, while i was lying in bed last Sunday (praying for a swift departure from this world, if i'm honest), it occurred to me to be indignant that my body would respond to such a decisive action toward overall health (the surgery) with such unmitigated misery.  i couldn't believe it.  i had traveled thousands of miles in an effort to take control of a rapidly worsening situation and what did i get in return?  piles and piles of sodden Kleenex and a West African drum ensemble practicing in my face.  once my head cleared enough for me to analyze the situation somewhat more objectively, i realized that it's only natural; i had put my body through serious trauma (voluntarily, and without its consent), and in return, it was slavishly devoting all available resources to healing the affected areas, necessarily leaving others (like everything that wasn't my digestive system) critically vulnerable.

since i kicked the sinus infection, i've been feeling much better, though i'm told (by my devoted and wonderful Sue) it will take quite a while before i feel 100%.  my body seems to be bouncing back quite efficiently, especially since i've been able to consume the occasional food that requires chewing.  in any event, my point for today's entry is this: what happened to me is a natural expression of the order of things, and is easily applicable to the state of our Union at this moment.  while nearly $450 billion of our nation's budget is diverted to the war in Afghanistan (and the rebuilding, etc., of Iraq), other areas are necessarily suffering.  it's easy to speculate that we wouldn't be in a recession if we had never gone back into Iraq, lo those many years ago, and that our nation's economy would be booming along like China, and that our trade deficit would have been slashed in half by now, thanks to the diligence and fortitude of American manufacturing.  wouldn't it be nice?  the fact is, though, that this is still speculation - i'm sure, for example, that the Dept of Defense could have found something else to spend all that green on.

i'm not going to pontificate on what we should be doing, but I was struck by the correlation between my own experience and what i see in our country right now.  once my body decides that my digestive system is no longer in danger of oozing out of my pores, the balance will be restored (sinus germs beware!!).  i fear it will be a much longer time before the same can be said of the US - balance aside, how long before we remember to allocate some resources to rebuilding our own country?

don't ask, don't tell...

after this week's events - the discharge of an accomplished Army Captain from service and the resignation of one of West Point's top 10 cadets on the basis of their respective sexual orientations - i feel compelled to 'weigh' in on the subject (pun very much intended).  rachel maddow's candid and incisive analysis of this issue (http://maddowblog.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2010/08/12/4873685-maddow-to-president-stand-up-for-what-is-right-because-you-know-it-is-right) is even more powerful for its truth.  President Obama has two options for ending the policy, with or without the support of Congress or the Joint Chiefs: executive order, as used by Truman to desegregate the armed forces (against all indications from 'studies' conducted by specialists to assess the effect of such an action on morale, effectiveness, etc); or the 'stop-loss' doctrine (which essentially gives the Commander-in-Chief the ability to suspend any law or regulation relating to promotion/separation of any personnel whose service he considers to be vital to the national security of the United States).  Both of these options are enforceable by the President and he doesn't need approval from anyone to make them the law of the land.

very few would argue that desegregation of the armed forces was a bad idea, especially now.  maybe the 93% of soldiers 'interviewed' for the 1947 study (presented to Truman before he issued Executive Order 9981) who said they opposed desegregation would say otherwise, but the evidence simply states otherwise.  as such, it really bothers me that President Obama doesn't seem to have the guts to take a stand on the issue, even though i can identify the source of his reluctance.  with mid-term elections coming up, he doesn't want to endanger the campaigns of those members of Congress to whom he is beholden for pushing through some of the most ambitious pieces of legislation any President's first term (not to mention first two years) has ever seen.  because those legislative victories have far-reaching benefits for people i care about, i am glad of the ambition that got them signed into law; however, i feel that ending the DADT policy is actually less of a gamble than the Wall Street reform, healthcare plan, and (despite its incredible impact on my personal future) the new student loan policies put together.  there is no evidence to indicate that LGBT personnel serving in the military is detrimental to morale - on the contrary, more cases are coming to light every week of gay and lesbian soldiers serving openly within their units, with the result of increased cohesion and trust within those ranks.  with such clear proof in favor of ending the policy, forgive me for considering it a no-brainer.


remarkably, this actually leads me to my purpose for posting today.  the trend of childhood obesity in the United States is 'deeply troubling' to almost anyone you ask - who can see the overweight children in our elementary schools struggling to run a lap around a gym, or watch the new reality show 'Too Fat for 15' and not be moved? yes, starting the fight against childhood obesity at the federal level is another no-brainer. as one who used to be an overweight child, i respectfully submit that there is even less ambition required to enact solid policies to protect the next generation against the currently inevitable future they face.  the behaviors i learned as a child - whether taught by the 3-times-a-week pizza with fries served in my school's lunchroom or the seven soda machines located in my high school - helped guide me to my current situation.  thankfully, i had the resources to change my direction before my youth could no longer protect me.  as you might imagine, that won't be the case for the millions of children suffering from obesity right now.  therefore, my proposal is simple and twofold: overhaul the school-lunch program (relatively easy to do) and implement a positive-body-image program for kids, beginning in kindergarten.

we've all been there: the playground at school during recess, where, inevitably, some poor individual known to his classmates simply as 'the fat kid,' is relentlessly teased and mocked because of his (or her) size.  i can personally attest to the results of this particular brand of cruelty - it leads to the belief that you'll never be good enough, and subconsciously, you start to self-insulate.  it's a simple psychological phenomenon: the child uses uses food to create a perceived physical barrier to any type of threat they might encounter in the world that has told them they are less.  a textbook self-fulfilling prophecy.  that's what happened to me, and it's happening to kids everywhere.  please understand, i'm not advocating a nationwide 'you're OK no matter what you look like' campaign.  i'm advocating a 'you are valuable to yourself and the world, and we want you to be around for a long, long time so you can contribute your unique gifts' campaign, because that's what every kid (and most adults, though a lot of them wouldn't admit it to you) needs to hear.  it's not enough to tell kids that they should be healthy by showing them what 'healthy people' look like.  they need to know that you want them to lead a healthy life because they have something that's all their own to share with the world.  kids need to understand that personal value is not inversely proportional to one's clothes size (i.e., the higher the size, the lower a person's worth).

as i consider the journey before me, i find myself walking a little taller - i've lost more than 20 lbs so far, and i feel great.  i've always been comfortable in my own skin, for the most part, but coupled with that comfort was a sort of complacency about what i'd be able to accomplish.  i believe that i have something great that i can do in this world, and i may even be around long enough to to see it.  every kid should be able to look into their future and see the same thing.

Coming home

Today, a few thoughts.  First, I experienced our return travel adventure (from San Jose, Costa Rica to DC with a stop in Atlanta) from a new perspective yesterday.  Because of my surgery, and in ancillary consideration to my torn meniscus, we requested wheelchair assistance from the airline for the duration of the trip.  It was humbling to realize that those who need the most assistance are sometimes the very people who have to wait the longest for things (such as having the wheelchair even arrive at the gate to greet you), and then, as I experienced, to suffer the blatant attention (sometimes pitying, sometimes outright rude) from other passengers traveling at the same time.  This was a revelation to me - I can't believe how..childish...a society we live in sometimes.  There's that old saying: you can never know a person's journey till you walk (or in my case, ride) a mile in their shoes.  That was never more true for me than during our excursion yesterday.  From now on, I'm pledging to be more considerate of those whose daily lives include some physical struggle that we can't even conceive of, whether that means allowing people in a wheelchair to see only compassionate interest in my face (not the prurient attempt at pity, or even hostility I saw yesterday) when they pass by in any situation, or simply helping them pick up their cell phone, should it drop to the floor, rather than ignoring their need or acting as if I'm some kind of savior for bending down to help them.  What a day.


Next, something a bit more to the point of this blog.  I was astonished when I weighed myself this morning.  (note: not every installment will include a weight update, because my doctor, nutritionist and MM all said if I weigh myself too often, it will become an obsession and could derail my success, for something as simple as not losing a pound in one week.  That said, I plan to weigh myself at the beginning of each week and will report on it at some point during that week's entries.)  I have officially lost 22 lbs - this since beginning the heinous pre-op diet two weeks before my surgery, of which several (most?) of you heard me complain, at some points more loudly than others - and I'm teetering on the brink of an achievement I haven't celebrated in nearly a year: exchanging the 3 at the beginning of my weight for a 2.  That's right - since my plan for this blog is to be completely honest, I'm going to tell each and every one of you right now that I weighed over 300 lbs as of this year.  People who knew this told me I 'carried it well,' which I take to mean that I should be happy I was still ambulatory.  In any case, my current weight - 301 lbs - is encouragement of the very best sort.  


How many of you have ever made the drive on I-81 (North or South) through Virginia to TN?  If you've ever done this drive, you know that it is awful.  It's the longest stretch of road in a trip that I have made a thousand times, and the stretch that I have always dreaded the most.  See the thing is, I-81 actually has a lot of beautiful scenery, and even more interesting things (such as the intermittent reminder -GUNS!!! - that you are never more than 10 miles from your favorite firearm for sale), along its route.  The thing that makes I-81 so terrible is that it is just freaking long.  The trip from my house to DC takes about 10 hours, if you're foolish enough to drive it, more than half of which takes place on I-81.  6 hours, to be exact.  Top to toe, it's 318 miles to the TN border, and for most of that time, I'm watching the mile markers go by, wistfully enduring the 200's (mostly when heading north) because I know how I will feel when I see that 300-mile mark.  I'm almost home!, I'll say to myself.  Almost there!  


Some of you may be wondering what the hell I'm talking about, which is a pretty normal state of being for me; however, I'm talking about the correlation between I-81 and my current weight - duh!  Hovering so close to the 300-mark (and, more importantly, what lies next!) is kind of like heading south on I-81: that 300 means that I have a long journey ahead, but at the end of that journey I'll be at a much happier place than I find myself in right now.  GUNS!!!  (sorry - I-81 reflex)  I'll be at a place where I can truly dominate in my softball league next summer, be the person I've always felt was hiding somewhere underneath all that insulation, and take control of my health for the first time since I walked into a Burger King with a button proclaiming I McDonald's when I was about 6 years old. (a long-standing family joke)


In any case, I'm writing this from my very own sofa at home, and while I do miss the beauty and quirkiness of Costa Rica, I'm really glad to be able to take some time to relax at home before heading back to work....then classes start again on 8/23 and I will be back in my normal routine of never seeing most of the people who read this. :)  I've gotten a bit spoiled this summer with my availability, but that too must pass.  To tell the truth, I'm actually ready for it - I miss the hectic craziness of my school/work schedule, and I'm ready to challenge my mind again.  I'd like to catch at least a little bit of it and save it from oozing steadily out of my ears for lack of activity. :)

Episode IV: A New Hope

Hi everyone -

I'm not arrogant enough to believe that everyone in the world (or even my world) will want to read this, but it feels like a good time to start a blog all for myself.  For those of you out there wondering about the title of this blog (or for those who didn't notice it: 'Farewell to Lars'), a brief explanation: for a long time - possibly as long as I can remember, or at least up until I've blocked out - I have been overweight.  Sometimes seriously so, as I am now; other times, just inconveniently so, such as in high school, where I couldn't seem to keep off the weight despite playing two varsity sports.  In any case, when I went to college, I - along with so many of my frosh companions - gained the dreaded 'Freshman 15,' but such was my gallantry and loyalty to friends, that I gained some of my friends' Freshman 15s, as well, leading to a total gain of something approaching 60 pounds my freshman year.  Yikes.

By the age of 25, I was what the medical profession refers to as 'morbidly obese.'  (they say this as though having the word 'obese' attached to one's self-description is not morbid enough.)  Despite some serious effort, and some half-hearted ones, I remained in this category, wondering if I'd ever be able to shake the extra pounds and live the life I wanted to live.  Apparently, you just can't be a professional stuntperson with all that extra poundage, nor will Team USA softball grant you a callback after tryouts if your weight is higher than the entire team's ages added together.  Upon these realizations, I decided that it was time to get serious about losing the weight - that was the easy part.  I have to give a shout out at this juncture to my good friend and - dare I say it? - mentor, Morgan Murphy ('MM'), who will no doubt be a legend in her own time.  Morgan has a joie de vivre that transcends the silliness of the phrase itself - she takes life by the horns, takes no prisoners, and is fierce in her devotion both to her friends and to the causes she has adopted as her own (notably, LGBT rights in general, and DC statehood rights specifically).  Morgan, you're my heroine.

I met the Divine Miz M (sorry, Bette) in the law library at school, and we struck up a conversation as if we had been friends forever.  We made the requisite trip to Starbucks to continue our talk, and it quickly became apparent that we were going to be close friends.  Anyway, to make a long story short, we got on the subject of the weight-loss surgery that MM had undergone the previous year, and the incredible impact it had (and continues to have) on her life.  As we talked, I began to feel something like Indiana Jones does in that moment when he walks into the room of Holy grails in The Last Crusade - something was pulling at me, challenging my spirit and conviction, and I knew I was about to be tested.  Over the course of the next few months, and many more conversations with MM, I realized that I had found what I had been looking for: a way to lose the weight I hated so much, with minimal risk of failure, and all the reason in the world to believe.

I went home and talked to my dear partner, Susanne, and she agreed so readily to the whole cockamamie plan (name that quote: 'Cockamamie.  That's a word your generation hasn't embraced yet.  Maybe you ought to use it once in a while...just to keep it alive.'  But I digress...) that I knew it had to be the right thing to do.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering what the heck this all has to do with someone named Lars, but if you'll be patient, I assure you, I'm getting to it.  Once I got to my current weight, I used to joke that the extra 100+ or so pounds I was carrying around was my 'spare 2nd grader,' who I later named (only to myself) 'Lars.'  Not sure why I decided on that name, except it's possible that I had just seen Lars and the Real Girl (a fantastic film) and the name just spoke to me.  Anyway, since this blog is about my journey out of obesity, morbid or otherwise, I decided that Farewell to Lars was perfect - didn't give away too much of the plot right off the bat, keeps the readers interested, and was virtually guaranteed to be available when trying to find a name on blogspot.  Success in all three arenas, I hope.

Now, to the title of this post: taken, of course, from the first Star Wars movie, 'A New Hope' is exactly what I find myself holding on this, the fourth day after my weight-loss surgery.  My surgeon, Dr. Jacobo Zafrani, is a wonderful man and he said to me that I would never regret the decision to do what I did - so far, he's absolutely right.  I've lost 12 lbs in the five days I've been here, and it already feels incredible.  More on the specifics of the surgery for later posts, but that's the rundown.  If you've made it this far, thank you.  If not, no worries.  Just know that life is beautiful, and when you stop to try and figure it out, it can get too scary.  I jumped into this with both feet, and I couldn't be happier.  Hopefully, you will enjoy taking this journey with me, because I know I'll enjoy riding it out.  Either way, though, the farewell has begun - Lars, you're on notice, my friend.  In a year's time, I suspect we'll have to end our association.  To paraphrase one of the greatest cinematic pas de deux's in history, 'I think this could be the [end] of a beautiful friendship.'