OK - it wasn't so much an assignment as it was a fulfillment of an answer to a question asked during our first session of Wills & Estates (sure to become my favorite class this semester, thanks to Judge Lee). he asked the class how many of us had a will - out of 70+ students, 4 raised their hands (including me). in the interest of full disclosure, i am obligated to admit that i don't have a *valid* legal will, but i do have the skeleton form on my laptop and i now have an excellent reason to validate the will's provisions and get it safely stored away. in any case, having done some research into the matter, i discovered a neat part of a will, the name of which will surely strike a reflexive, albeit retroactive, dread into the hearts of any of this blog's followers that went through the travails of law school applications: the personal statement. yes, that's right - today's modern will contains an option to include some last words which must be included in the reading of one's will. who says you can't get the last word? the addition of a personal statement to a will gives one the opportunity truly to get the drop on all those pesky relatives who never let anyone skate by without some pithy commentary or cautionary axiom floating on the breeze as its target drives away. that said, here is the text of my personal statement as it stands now, though i'm sure as i get older, more crotchety, and less in control of my mental faculties (though it's difficult to see how i could lose any more control over those), it will change somewhat. even so, the message will win through - imbibe each word, friends, as they are all for you.
******
As Freud once famously said, '[E]veryone of us is convinced of his own immortality.' Considering this was a man with more neural pathways under construction at any given moment than your average Amoeba Mathletes team, in this he was completely correct, and yet I couldn't agree less. In my humble opinion, I think it's even more important to be not only convinced, but absolutely and utterly aware - at every moment - of one's mortality. Otherwise, we lose sight of our motivation to get things right while we can, and where we fall short, to make amends as best we are able. Living as though you are immortal takes no special drive, no remarkable talent even. The trick is to keep your mortality always at the periphery of your awareness, so that when the Fates hold your life's thread taut and start sharpening their scissors, you can observe all this with the contentment of one whose immortality awaits only the germination of seeds planted in stories passed down through generations: evolving from dry, even antiseptic, recountings into evermore colorfully embellished family folklore, from folklore into the stuff of legend.
If, when I leave this world, I can say that death is truly the only thing I have left to experience, the only bridge I have yet to cross, the only stone I have yet to turn over, the last empty box on my checklist....well, then immortality becomes a significantly less significant achievement, doesn't it? Who wants to live forever if you can never really complete the race, cross off that last to-do? It's said that Mozart never overslept when he had important meetings, because his wife Kostanze discovered a foolproof alarm, guaranteed to rouse the great Amadeus from his bed without exception: she would go to the piano and play the first seven notes of a C major scale, but she would omit the C at the top, leaving the penultimate tone hanging in the air while she walked away from the instrument, and forcing her husband to leap from the bed within mere seconds to play the entire scale with the final tonic note at the end, right where it should be. He simply *could not* leave it alone. To me, it seems that actual immortality would be like hearing that same unfinished scale over and over again - the agony of never being able to play that final note and have the satisfaction of resolution and accomplishment would defeat me.
For my part, I choose not to recollect the failures in my life, which are legion, but in this moment - which, in my mind's eye, is full of people celebrating according to my instructions rather than weeping or mourning - I would like to catalog what I believe are (or I hope they will be, at the moment of this document's reading) my greatest achievements. My one great hope is that when this document is read out loud, the following statements will have been borne out in truth:
- that I lived deep and sucked out all the marrow of life (credit to Thoreau for this, a lasting image captured in my mind so many years ago), with the understanding that there is no time for 'what if.'
- that I was known as a compassionate person, one who could be counted on in a pinch to answer 'Yes!' to all those who needed my help, regardless of whether I was asked.
- that those dear to me knew every moment of every day how much I loved them and how much of my own strength I drew from them and their love for me.
- that I never met a stranger.
- that I always stood ready with a smile and kind word, even in my own darkest moments, because it really is possible to 'fake it till you make it.'
- that my sister, Sandy, lived each day secure in the knowledge that never in this world has anyone ever been blessed as I was with the sister of the ages, a staunch defender, one whose shoulder never grew weary of absorbing my tears, a firm ally in both famine and plenty, and one who always joyfully proclaimed that she shared my blood.
- that Trinity, Micayla, and Jaden were as proud to be my nieces as I was, every moment, to be their aunt, and that I was always there for them when they needed me, bound inexorably together by love stronger even than steel.
- that I will be remembered as a cheerful giver, someone with an astounding capacity for remembering even the smallest details, but with complete amnesia for the faults of others or wrongs done to me.
- that my life, despite my mistakes, misgivings, and mishaps, truly reflected God's love and kindness, someone of whom all my family and friends would never be ashamed to claim as their own and who made them proud.
Dear ones, I love you. For those gone ahead, I rejoice in anticipation of our reunion, and for those left behind (it's only for a short while!), I implore you not to cry for my passing, but to remember me each time you speak without thinking, act without hesitation, and love without expectation of recompense. 'And now abide faith, hope, and love, these three; but the *greatest of these* is LOVE.'
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
new year's introspection
hello again friends - it's a new year and with the dawning of 2011, i (like so many others out there) find myself unusually pensive, spending time dreaming about things that never seem quite as possible in november or december, but at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Day, all the world suddenly reclaims its place as my oyster.
that said, here are a few tidbits about 2010, in no particular order.
1. Visited Seattle (again) for a conference, during which I was able to soak in the magic of the Emerald City and meet up with good friends for crumpets, tea, and green tea martinis (not in the same meal, of course). More and more, I feel as though we will eventually live there, even if it's only for a short time.
2. 'Snowpocalypse' - my flight left Baltimore for Seattle in the morning, and by rush hour, there was 4 inches of snow on the ground, ultimately accumulating 18" at our house that weekend. My flight home was delayed a day and my flight home finally landed at BWI as one of the last six planes to land during the 21 hours the airport was able to open before Round 2 hit, bringing another 16" of snow (for a total of 32" on the ground by the time it all cleared).
3. Butler University came within literally *inches* of pulling off one of the greatest Cinderella story upsets in the entire history of the NCAA basketball tournament, losing to #1 (actually #3 overall) Duke in the title game, after Gordon Hayward's Hail Mary kissed the back of the rim after banking off the glass, just barely too far to hit the net instead. An amazing game that kept the entire March Madness faithful glued to the screen as the final buzzer sounded, and one of the few times that my mom's rooting for the team opposite the one I was supporting failed to clinch a victory.
4. The Young Squire (aka Rowan Davies) enters the world (1/4) and inserts himself into our hearts within mere seconds - and so, the great adventure begins for dear friends.
5. My niece Trinity turned 10, finally cracking into the double digits and somehow retaining the sweetness and light of childhood, all the while staring her 'tween years in the face. Under the 10-going-on-27 exterior, however, she's still my Boots.
6. My sister and nieces moved home to TN, with bittersweet overtones aplenty.
7. I traveled to Central America and had weight-loss surgery, reclaiming my body for myself and learning that I'm liable to break into Spanish when under the influence of heavy anesthesia. Pounds lost to date: 86. Clothes reclaimed from the back of the closet: 4 shirts, two pairs of pants, and one tuxedo jacket.
8. Got a Facebook message from a private investigator who said my dad was trying to find me and my sister. After much virtual hemming and hawing, the three of us sat down and had coffee, double-chocolate Coca-Cola cake, and 2 hours of conversation at Cracker Barrel, where in true Southern form, our check was comped by the manager when she heard our story.
9. My hometown was flooded when the Cumberland River crawled over its banks, encroaching nearly half a mile into downtown Nashville, submerging Riverfront Park, and causing irreparable damage to thousands of homes, businesses, and cultural rally points such as Schermerhorn Symphony Center and the Grand Ole Opry's Acuff Theater. Later, Lighthouse Christian School - a school funded by the operation of its preschool, and which served as the subject of one of the most incredible YouTube videos I have ever seen, when a portable classroom literally floated down the interstate and was crushed in the water - received a truly amazing gift from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. In the face of overwhelming loss to their property and ability to operate the preschool (the lifeblood of the rest of the school), LCS set up a community shelter where displaced Nashvillians could come to receive food, blankets, necessaries, and help in rebuilding. All the while, LCS was suffering, but the indomitable heart for the people - one of the many reasons I am *so* proud to call Nashville my hometown - would not let them stand by while the rest of their community suffered so great a tragedy. When Ty Pennington and his crew came on the scene, the principal of LCS stared as though an angel had descended on the school, which of course is exactly what happened. (In the midst of the flood crisis, Nashville received little to non-existent national media coverage, and so I sent an email to Rachel Maddow, beseeching her to give us just a little exposure on her show if it was at all possible. Dr. Maddow responded less than 2 days later - not via email, but via a 4-minute segment on her nightly show, detailing the damage and giving Nashville the airtime it so deserved.)
10. My wife's family lost its matriarch when Elizabeth B. Stefon passed away November 20th. Aunt Betty left no heart unturned, and had an impact on us all. Though it hurts to think of her apartment being rented by someone else, leaving us only a few tenuous threads of connections in the great state of Connecticut, it is easy to imagine Betty reunited with her siblings, parents and all those others who went before her, crippled no more, and able to relax in the knowledge that she made it after all. RIP Aunt Betty - you will be missed.
Overall, 2010 was a year of change: new Congress, new body for me, new location for my sister and nieces, 2 cousins who left for their first years in college, a new baby, weight-loss surgery, the '2L' year, and countless other events that haven't been mentioned here. The 'twenty-ought' decade (quoted from my former Economics teacher, Mr. Adams) came to a close and Susanne and I celebrated with great friends. We enter the 'twenty-teens' decade (again, credit to Mr. Adams) with a hopeful sense of wonder, humility, and excitement at the dawning of a new census period, wherein our dearest hope is that we will be able to add to that census number in our own good time.
Friends, family, strangers who may have simply stumbled on this page - you are so dear to those around you. When you consider 2010 and what you left undone, unsaid, or unwritten, I urge you not to regret but to consider those things a built-in, ready-made goals list for 2011 - as I learned over Christmas, 'for every regrettable, there's a hypothetical.' Don't make your what-ifs into 'woulda, shoulda, coulda.' Change those what-ifs into 'when-I.' Try to live your life so that you don't regret what you've done, but what you've left undone - the best way to accomplish this is not to leave doors unopened or 'I love you's' unsaid, or emotional beds unmade. It's 2011, and I officially declare this the year of CARPE DIEM!!!!
that said, here are a few tidbits about 2010, in no particular order.
1. Visited Seattle (again) for a conference, during which I was able to soak in the magic of the Emerald City and meet up with good friends for crumpets, tea, and green tea martinis (not in the same meal, of course). More and more, I feel as though we will eventually live there, even if it's only for a short time.
2. 'Snowpocalypse' - my flight left Baltimore for Seattle in the morning, and by rush hour, there was 4 inches of snow on the ground, ultimately accumulating 18" at our house that weekend. My flight home was delayed a day and my flight home finally landed at BWI as one of the last six planes to land during the 21 hours the airport was able to open before Round 2 hit, bringing another 16" of snow (for a total of 32" on the ground by the time it all cleared).
3. Butler University came within literally *inches* of pulling off one of the greatest Cinderella story upsets in the entire history of the NCAA basketball tournament, losing to #1 (actually #3 overall) Duke in the title game, after Gordon Hayward's Hail Mary kissed the back of the rim after banking off the glass, just barely too far to hit the net instead. An amazing game that kept the entire March Madness faithful glued to the screen as the final buzzer sounded, and one of the few times that my mom's rooting for the team opposite the one I was supporting failed to clinch a victory.
4. The Young Squire (aka Rowan Davies) enters the world (1/4) and inserts himself into our hearts within mere seconds - and so, the great adventure begins for dear friends.
5. My niece Trinity turned 10, finally cracking into the double digits and somehow retaining the sweetness and light of childhood, all the while staring her 'tween years in the face. Under the 10-going-on-27 exterior, however, she's still my Boots.
6. My sister and nieces moved home to TN, with bittersweet overtones aplenty.
7. I traveled to Central America and had weight-loss surgery, reclaiming my body for myself and learning that I'm liable to break into Spanish when under the influence of heavy anesthesia. Pounds lost to date: 86. Clothes reclaimed from the back of the closet: 4 shirts, two pairs of pants, and one tuxedo jacket.
8. Got a Facebook message from a private investigator who said my dad was trying to find me and my sister. After much virtual hemming and hawing, the three of us sat down and had coffee, double-chocolate Coca-Cola cake, and 2 hours of conversation at Cracker Barrel, where in true Southern form, our check was comped by the manager when she heard our story.
9. My hometown was flooded when the Cumberland River crawled over its banks, encroaching nearly half a mile into downtown Nashville, submerging Riverfront Park, and causing irreparable damage to thousands of homes, businesses, and cultural rally points such as Schermerhorn Symphony Center and the Grand Ole Opry's Acuff Theater. Later, Lighthouse Christian School - a school funded by the operation of its preschool, and which served as the subject of one of the most incredible YouTube videos I have ever seen, when a portable classroom literally floated down the interstate and was crushed in the water - received a truly amazing gift from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. In the face of overwhelming loss to their property and ability to operate the preschool (the lifeblood of the rest of the school), LCS set up a community shelter where displaced Nashvillians could come to receive food, blankets, necessaries, and help in rebuilding. All the while, LCS was suffering, but the indomitable heart for the people - one of the many reasons I am *so* proud to call Nashville my hometown - would not let them stand by while the rest of their community suffered so great a tragedy. When Ty Pennington and his crew came on the scene, the principal of LCS stared as though an angel had descended on the school, which of course is exactly what happened. (In the midst of the flood crisis, Nashville received little to non-existent national media coverage, and so I sent an email to Rachel Maddow, beseeching her to give us just a little exposure on her show if it was at all possible. Dr. Maddow responded less than 2 days later - not via email, but via a 4-minute segment on her nightly show, detailing the damage and giving Nashville the airtime it so deserved.)
10. My wife's family lost its matriarch when Elizabeth B. Stefon passed away November 20th. Aunt Betty left no heart unturned, and had an impact on us all. Though it hurts to think of her apartment being rented by someone else, leaving us only a few tenuous threads of connections in the great state of Connecticut, it is easy to imagine Betty reunited with her siblings, parents and all those others who went before her, crippled no more, and able to relax in the knowledge that she made it after all. RIP Aunt Betty - you will be missed.
Overall, 2010 was a year of change: new Congress, new body for me, new location for my sister and nieces, 2 cousins who left for their first years in college, a new baby, weight-loss surgery, the '2L' year, and countless other events that haven't been mentioned here. The 'twenty-ought' decade (quoted from my former Economics teacher, Mr. Adams) came to a close and Susanne and I celebrated with great friends. We enter the 'twenty-teens' decade (again, credit to Mr. Adams) with a hopeful sense of wonder, humility, and excitement at the dawning of a new census period, wherein our dearest hope is that we will be able to add to that census number in our own good time.
Friends, family, strangers who may have simply stumbled on this page - you are so dear to those around you. When you consider 2010 and what you left undone, unsaid, or unwritten, I urge you not to regret but to consider those things a built-in, ready-made goals list for 2011 - as I learned over Christmas, 'for every regrettable, there's a hypothetical.' Don't make your what-ifs into 'woulda, shoulda, coulda.' Change those what-ifs into 'when-I.' Try to live your life so that you don't regret what you've done, but what you've left undone - the best way to accomplish this is not to leave doors unopened or 'I love you's' unsaid, or emotional beds unmade. It's 2011, and I officially declare this the year of CARPE DIEM!!!!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
random thoughts - 11/7/10
First, a few tidbits regarding the number 71:
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.
- 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.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, September 27, 2010
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. :)
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
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. :)
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. :)
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)