There’s “no such thing as a stupid question”often times rings true. But when it comes to the individual asking the question; I reserve the right to determine their level of stupidity. Carry on that is all…
Tag: angry at the world
Every 15 Minutes
Steam rises from the hood as a faint wail can be heard off in the distance. Sound is muffled, vision distorted he doesn’t understand the images placed before his eyes. A kaleidoscope of colors passing through a spiderweb prism is all he can associate. Looking to his right he finds a pair of shoes. Not just any shoes but the Sketchers he bought his girlfriend for her 16th birthday. Why? He wonders. Why are they there on the seat of my car and how are they standing on their toes. The improbability of shoes standing on their toes is more than his mind can process. He shakes his head trying to clear the cobwebs but the alcohol in his system wont let it happen. So he stares at the pink Sketchers in disbelief.
The pink Sketchers he bought his girlfriend on her 16th birthday are in fact not standing on their toes. 
They are still connected to her feet, feet that lead to her legs, legs that stretch through the windshield of his 2004 Nissan where she lay motionless on the hood. Dying. The girl he loves is dying on the very hood that steam now rises from while a faint wail can be heard in the distance.
She cant seem to make it stop. She doesn’t remember taking a nap, but now that she has found peaceful slumber she only wishes for what ever is dripping on her face to quit! She dreams of water or syrup sliding across her eyes. Swatting at the sticky substance she is not sure whether its real or part of her warm comfortable dream. Then she feels it, starting out as a low uncomfortable burning, her dream translates it into fire. Surrounding her, leaving her trapped yet somehow she knows better, fighting resisting the dream. Her eyes finally opened by the rush of adrenaline surging through her system, brought forward by the searing pain across her face. The sticky substance now identified is blood! She screams then screams again, taking in all the air her lungs will allow. Her seat is covered in blood, the dashboard is covered in blood, her clothes are covered in blood. Wait a minute; she thinks to herself. Calm down and relax; is all she can say. Her dads voice ringing in her ears for all the times she felt panicked and he calmed her down with those four little words. Honey just “calm down and relax”. She remembers getting in the car with her friend, they were headed to a friend’s house for a study group.. Wait her friend! He was driving them! She slowly turns to the left and its then her world is changed forever!
She now knows where the blood is from, oh sure some is from the head wound that burns across her scalp. 
But the majority is from him. He lies motionless against the door pillar, color gone from his face, lips barren and dry, a sandy glaze across the whites of his eyes he breathes no more. Still, lifeless, anything but the laughing energetic young man he was a mere 5 minutes ago. She screams for him to wake, he doesn’t budge. She slaps his face praying for a reaction! Anything! Anger and fear rip through her as she comes to realize he will never wake up, never move again, the charming, smart, dorky boy she had known since 5th grade was gone forever. She lays against him crying. Not knowing what to do or where to go, she cries.
The faint wail off in the distance is not a wounded animal, it doesn’t come from a piece of machinery or a child who has just been punished it comes from a shadow, a silhouette, an anomaly spread out on the pavement 25 yards away. It twitches and writhes this anomaly of disproportion. The top half in a serious battle with the bottom half. A losing battle from what can be gathered at first sight. This shadow seems to be swimming on pavement, for it surrounded by liquid. A red lake that ripples with the breeze it appears to be flowing to the lowest level it can reach. Moving closer we see the shadow, the anomaly is wearing softball gear. A bat off to the right a cleat off to the left stuck in the center of what appears to be a childs water-color. Smeared across hot black asphalt lay various shades of red. She doesn’t know why she is face down and can’t move her lower half. She doesn’t understand why she is vomiting non stop. She feels a “fight or flight” reaction that she can’t control. 
Like a trapped animal she howls, claws and fights against the chains that bind her to this place. An abdomen that wont flex, a pair of legs grotesquely deformed, rotated and broken, she fights. She has fought her whole life against those who said she couldn’t. She has fought her whole life to achieve her small successes in school , at home and on the field of play, now she fights purely for her life. She cannot move anymore yet she still fights..
He has shaken the cobwebs and moved beyond the pink Sketchers. Trembling with fear he opens the car door and stands up to survey the origin of steam rising off the front of his car. He cannot believe what lays before his still blurry eyes. Two vehicles 
are heavily damaged, the front end on his car is folded up like a piece of paper, his girlfriend lay on the hood. Bleeding. Unconscious. It appears he has struck another car in the driver’s door. A portion of the drivers head lays split open on the center post of the car. It appears another occupant, most likely a female is crying and shaking the driver looking for a response. As he walks around the front of his car, pulling out his cell phone he see’s a bloody pile of clothing fighting against itself on the street off in the distance. It also appears to be a female and she has a bat, glove and is missing her shoes??
What has he done? How did this happen? It was only minutes ago he was at a party, laughing, drinking and having a good time with his girlfriend. What is he going to tell his parents? What is he going to tell her parents? 
This can’t be happening he is going to college in 6 weeks! What does this mean for his future? It was only a couple of drinks right? He tells himself he is fine and there is no way the cops will ever know..
He makes the call to 911…
Every 15 minutes a person is involved in an alcohol related accident. This is the premise of the Every 15 Minutes program held at high schools across the country prior to Senior Prom and Graduation. 
Every 15 Minutes is a two-day program focusing on high school juniors and seniors. The program challenges them to think about drinking, driving, personal safety and the responsibility of making the right decisions. The program also focuses on the impact these choices make on family, friends and the community.
The story I wrote above was about our scenario today April 26th 2012. It is an re-enactment or compilation of many accidents I have responded to over the years. For as the Every 15 Minutes program has an impact on the children and their families. Drinking and driving has an impact on all first responders. The firefighters, the police officers, the ambulance crews and the hospital personnel who fight for your child or family members life. People who are advocates for their survival. These are images I carry with me always. Images I can’t erase or just forget! People whose lives were changed forever from one poorly made decision. I remember them all and share them with you so you will remember to never get behind the wheel of a car after you have been drinking.
Dont drink and drive.
All pictures are of high school actors who volunteered to help raise awareness to teenage drinking and driving. I am very proud to be a part of the Every 15 Minutes program and the lasting effect it has on our participants, their family members and the audience that witnesses the event.
A horrible Easter poem..
Oh easter candy that’s left behind, I hear your faint call, you are on my mind.
It really doesn’t matter what kind that you are, a toffee, a peep or a dark chocolate bar
I walk through the kitchen avoiding your stare, yet my brain calls my sweet tooth with an evil dare.
I have given up sweets for the betterment of health, so taking you now should be done with great stealth.
The kids are still watching, the wifes on high alert. I move into the kitchen and slide you up under my shirt.
The closet, the bedroom or just sneak outside, to get on my bike and go for a ride.
But in the end it’s just us, sitting on the edge of my bed, the bag is half gone, sugar races to my head.
I let out a sigh of orgasmic relief, for in a few moments I will be overcome with great grief.
The guilt oh the guilt, I shall certainly be hung. The youngest has found me, my bell has 
been rung.
No guiltier man was found by our family jury. In the end it was worth it, I enjoyed the last Cadbury.
An awful poem written for all you candy junkies such as myself who hate this holiday for the endless amounts of candy that are left in the house afterwards! Bags upstairs, bags downstairs, candy in little bowls and hidden in the cupboards. I crave it I need it, it talks to me, telling me its ok to have just one more! Who cares if its 250 calories a piece! So what if you can devour three or four pieces at a time! It’s just candy right? Its only once a year, right? Live a little, have some more, heck if you eat it all then there will be no more and you can go right back to your low-calorie, bland, tasteless diet that you have enjoyed so much over the last year. Just remember, your life insurance doesn’t pay out if its suicide! Self induced candy coma suicide! Fatty!
So my advice to you is, stay strong! Look the other way, let the kids eat it all and when you go to bed tonight and you hear the candy talking to you. Get up, and go make yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Your future diabetes will be in check and Wilfred Brimley will be proud of you.
The High Road
He stands alone casting gaze upon the widening abyss. Cold, tired and isolated he feels a chill, not of weather setting in around him but for the emotion stirred within. A crooked smile lay’s limply upon his weathered wrinkled face; eyes gleaming from beneath his furrowed brow.
Fists have slowly unfurled, his jaw still aches from what feels to be a month of clenching. Pressure still rides down his back from bearing the weight of sadness, anger, betrayal, hatred and torment yet upright he stands, assured in his resolve.
The road up was scattered with multiple obstacles to climb and overcome. Feeling his patience wane, he struggled yet continued moving forward. Moments came where silence was more than he could bear, yet bear it he did for those who depended upon him to finish his travel. Sleepless nights prevailed; emotions of both undeniable hurt and astonishment at the desperation of spirits left him exhausted. He slipped a time or two but thanks to uplifting thoughts and prayers he never truly faltered. Because of this he knew making it to the top was the only option, even when doubt crept in telling him to stop.
So there he stands, alone casting gaze upon the widening abyss. Having taken the high road he feels immersed in the importance of true friendship, love and patience. Before turning upon heels, climbing back down, he pauses a moment to pray for those either unwanting or unwilling to reach the summit. Hoping someday they reconsider this decision, allowing them a second chance at making the climb and spiritual liberation. It’s a quiet moment of self reflection and hope.
Those who feed upon chaos will inevitably perish during their own frenzy.
Betty…
</Is it past my bedtime?
Saturday evening 2200 hours.
I stare at my computer screen wondering what to write. My brain carries the sound of white noise as I sip the last of my sleepytime tea. I am showered and fresh, pajamas are on, my hair still dripping slightly. My wife comes up the stairs, inquiring about my 40 mile stare. I state matter of factly; I can’t think of a thing to write. She replies maybe its past your bedtime, why dont you come to bed.
Hmm maybe???
Wait a minute, have I finally reached the age where I must be tucked neatly into bed before midnight? Jeopardy is over and apparently I can’t seem to make it through 
Wheel of Fortune! Should I bust out the walker and start bitching about the horrible service after 5pm at the local Denny’s! I can hear myself now; Holy crap they never remember my senior discount!! This cant be so! We are talking about me! King of late night! Ruler of the stars! Howler to the moon! God who surveys the breaking morning sun! Why you have no idea the powers I hold in regards to being an all nighter!! I will be damned if you think for one minute I am ready to turn down my hearing aids, lay on the Apsercreme, drop the old chompers in the Poli-dent and call it an evening!
This cat could party till dawn baby! Thats right, start drinking at 5pm and walk into the house as the sun breaks over the Sierra Mountains, take a little nap and hit it hard again! Oh yeah I was that guy! No beer I hadn’t tasted, no place I wouldn’t party, no time I needed to be home! Yep a regular “Frank the Tank”! 
When it came to work I wasnt much different. Fire the truck up at 3am hit the road and arrive home at 9pm. Grab a little grub, hit the hay and do it all over again! That was me, a regular night owl. Candle burner from both ends! Night-watchman to society! It was awesome! Plenty of time to sleep when you die! Right? RIGHT???
So what the Hell happened? How in the world did I end up sitting here on a Saturday night with tea? Not even a shot of something in the tea! Just tea! In my pj’s, barefoot, wet, 
and boring. How sad is that? No really, how much worse could this possibly be? Gosh, now I am kind of feeling sorry for myself. Where did my wild side go? Where did it disappear too? I mean I can’t even feel it anymore, its like a dull, numb ache inside.
Oh wait; now I remember.
My wild side slowly evaporated after four kids, a mortgage and multiple responsibilities. Helping a few friends say goodbye to their wild side’s ate away at mine for a while. I closed the door on my wild side when I took on the challenge of becoming a firefighter. The last nail in my wild side’s coffin was after my first few years on the job picking up the after math of many other people’s wild side’s gone horrendously wrong. Yep the all nighter, wild sided “Frank the Tank” Betty was gone for good. Good riddance!
So here I sit staring at my computer wondering what to write and suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad that I am in my comfy pajamas with the last drop of sleepytime tea hovering over the bottom of my mug. My family is asleep, quiet has fallen over our house and I am the last one up.
Oh yeah I still got it!
Only five….
The room is empty his bed made up. An eerie silence has befallen a house filled with chaos. Although there are six, one would think an absence would go unnoticed. That five would be alright? An empty chair at the table would bring no discernible 
question. Joy would come from one less to make lunch for, one less to ensure readiness for school, one less to pat on the head say I love you and kiss goodbye as that one passed through the door. One less….. Yes…
One would be wrong.
He brings a smile to my face everyday. I feel he brings smiles to many faces during the day. He has the same troubles most lads have at eleven. Staying focused in school, interjecting during adult conversations at the most inappropriate of times, picking fights with his little brother, while idolizing his older one. He is wicked smart yet chooses to only do what is required when the subject matter doesn’t suit his liking. But what child doesn’t behave that way? He loves all animals, big and small, and will cry at the drop of a hat upon learning af a harmed creature. Horses have become his passion as he yearns for every moment he can ride in the ring. He is big and strong, quiet, and funny, boisterous and obnoxious, yet humble when the moment requires. I have not met a soul who thinks anything but the highest regards for this young lad.
He is gone on a field trip, away from home since yesterday. I know not of his specific where about, I cannot speak with him as he has no cell phone. It is silly when you think about it really. 
But I never understood how badly I need his presence in my life. I have become as dependant on him as he remains dependant on me. I love all my children and feel the same sickening heartbreak when one is not around. My worry radar is on overload, my sense of protective parenting is on the highest of alerts. I feel as though I am electrified with no way to shut down the power.
How did our parents do it, I wonder? How did they get through this feeling, like that of a lost appendage? A hand, gone, a finger missing, my nose cut off to spite my face? It’s all there, holding me hostage until he arrives home safely. I dislike this feeling immensely! It doesn’t get easier with the next child as I have just realized. I really thought it would, yet its only more complex. How will I behave when I am down to the littlest member of our family. Will I need a straitjacket for a specified period of time? Xanex and whiskey to dull the pain? I am not sure, but I know this, I feel as though I just heard another grey hair pop from my skull!
I love you Jake! You are a reminder to me of why I became a parent. I never felt it was my right to have children, I have always known it as a privilege. You, your two brothers and one sister, remind me of that everyday. I challenge myself everyday to do my very best to guide you all to adulthood. I pray everyday that what ever challenges you face you know to trust that your parents will be there for you. I pray everyday that these little spots of freedom you encounter during the course of your childhood only strengthen your resolve to return home once you have ventured out into the real world as adults. For no matter what the reason, no matter what the need the door to your home will always be open for you to return.
Now hurry up and get home so I can hug you!
Who taught you to drive??
RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT, RANT ALERT
Oh yeah ladies and gentlemen its time for Betty to bust out the pain! Lay down the smack! Bring up the blazingly obvious that all of you notice, bitch and complain about to yourselves but never to anyone else!
Drivers Licence Mayhem
As far as I know if you own a driver’s licence in the great United States of America then it means you passed a test allowing you to hold said licence. Correct????? It means that when you decided it was time to obtain these valued credentials you studied, went to drivers education classes, partook in valuable drive time on both freeways and surface streets with a certified instructor? Right???? Last but not least, like the rest of us valid card 
holding members of the united front of commuters you sweated buckets while a DMV representative sat alongside you, with a clip board in hand, guiding you through a designated course, determining if you had the ability/talent allowing you behind the wheel of your current 3400 pound bucket of rust! Didnt you??
Yet with all that being clearly stated why on earth do you lack the ability to safely merge onto the freeway? At what point and time in all those hours of behind the wheel training did anyone ever show you how to pull all the way down the on ramp at elementary school zone speeds to then stop, look over your shoulder and pray for an opening you can squeeze into from 0-75 mph? With your Prius! It’s not going to happen! Unless you own a Lamborghini Gallardo and are a very talented driver you are not going to make this move without serious consequences!
Of course it must run in the family because this morning I met your cousin Captain Oblivious! You know Captain Oblivious don’t you? 
Yeah, he’s the one that comes down the on ramp at freeway speed and never looks over his shoulder! Stereo up loud, hands at the ten and two position, head faced straight forward! Tractor Trailer? He don’t care! Giant 4×4? Better get out-of-the-way! He coming down that ramp like a skateboard to hell and there’s nothing you can do about it! He figures you will move out of fear! Apparently he missed the chapter about safely “merging”! Under the definition of “merge” it must read Merge: to ram large object into small or non-existent space without repercussion. The rest of us missed that chapter of the book but not you Captain Oblivious! Not you!
Of course my rant wouldn’t be complete without a visit from out other traffic family member! 
Flat floored Fred! You see Fred enjoys driving really fast! Fred runs the stops signs with the skill and grace of even the best California stop artist! Fred can’t help himself as he moves between lanes like a skilled race car driver. Drafting off a Lincoln, cutting the front of a Ford and pushing his way into position at the next stop light all so he gets the jump on you the moment it turns green! But Flat floored Fred has a serious flaw. Dont put him in the fast lane on the freeway! We have all seen him at his best! 
He darts down the on ramp at full throttle, smoke billowing from his 1993 Cutlass Supreme! He is coming fast, faster, faster than BAM! Across three lanes like Steve freaking McQueen! That car settles into the fast lane looking strong and stealthy until suddenly the anchor falls out of the trunk! Now Flat floored Fred shows his true side, its 55mph. Yep he’ll break every intown speed limit all damn day long but get him on the freeway and suddenly we are driving Ms. Daisy! Heres a hint for Flat floored Fred. If everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) is passing you from all three of the right hand lanes. 
Get out of the fast lane!!! You are just frustrating everyone! They all want to kill you! That is defintley not the “your number one” sign they’re flashing you!!!!
And what the heck is up with roundabouts? These little freaks of roadway nature are nothing more than an excuse for most people to see how fast thier cars can go while drifting! No kidding! They may work in Europe to ease traffic congestion but here in the states they are just an invitation
for the Red Bull Drifting series to have try outs! They are perfect! How many times can I go around this thing sideways, smoking the tires and blocking all others from entering into the circle of trust? 
You know whats an even better idea? Place the round abouts right next to high schools! Yep thats the ticket! Then the teenagers can all pretend to be Tanner Foust! Its pure genious!
Man I feel better! Its true purging is good for the soul!
Now piss off all of you before large 4×4 guy with dents in his truck loses his temper and shows you the bumper of the Betty mobile!
Parent date night
Forget candlelight and romance! Throw away the preconceived notion of dancing until dawn. 
A night at the opera in the city followed by a moonlight stroll along the shoreline, ridiculous! You see, I have found the ultimate date night for parents! An evening filled with laughter, food, shopping and a stroll along the parkway! Oh yes its true! Wine, it’s there, gourmet fare, got it! Supplies to cover any unexpected emergency? Yep, right inside the door! Movies? Ah yes! Dessert? Only as much as you can eat!!! Valet parking? Sadly no. So there isn’t everything you’d ever want for a date night but it’s still pretty fantastic!
If you are a parent or married couple with kids this is the place for you!
COSTCO
Yep that’s right ladies and gentlemen, my wife and I have been clamoring to go on a date quite some time. Between Softball, swimming, horses, fair animals and 4-H it seems our calendar is full 99% of the time! So tonight after a long day of breaking apart domestic disputes between our four lovely (sarcasm) children! My wife mumbles an exasperated “I have to go to COSTCO”. We are never going to be alone ever again are we? This is usally where the sobbing begins….
Hold that thought honey!
Enter the infamous COSTCO! Entertainment mega, all in one, grocery, everything household and then some superstore to the masses. I use the word entertainment in describing COSTCO, because once you look around it’s quite obvious you arent in Kansas anymore. (Unless of course you are at a COSTCO in Kansas then it’s a moot point)
So being rather quick at deducing problems I arrived at a summation; the only way we’re going to achieve some alone time would be to abandon the little heathens (aaahhhhemmm our sweet children) at home to fend for themselves while we stroll the isle ways of the local COSTCO hand in hand. All together now… AAAAHHHHHHH!
So I locked up the weapons, hid the duct tape and padlocked the knife drawer. Left the 15-year-old in charge with more than ample directions to insure his success. Told said 15-year-old not to play XBox ( hard request to make with a straight face) the whole time, but focus instead on his little brother who is starving for big brothers attention. Turned to the middle two, pointed a short stumpy finger at them with a reminder that nothing should be damaged or misplaced upon our arrival home. 
I received a tweedle dee and tweedle dumb nod of acknowledgment. Then without haste I swept the misses off her feet and into the car with hopes of clearing the driveway before one of them felt the need to ruin the moment with an unfounded emergency!
My wife and I laughed as we cruised down the road with no kids in the car, stereo up loud pumping some 80′ Van Halen, sunroof open we’re pushing 75mph, whoop whoop! We continued to laugh the way I imagine D.B. Cooper chuckled after stealing $200,000.00 dollars and possibly committing the perfect crime! It was ours all ours! Two, maybe three hours without interuption! Oh sure we would be surrounded by other families, No doubt we would hear children crying and screaming, fighting and whining! But they weren’t ours!!! T-H-E-Y-W-E-R-E-N-T-O-U-R-S! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
We arrived at COSTCO immediately finding a parking spot right up front. (good sign so far) 
grabbed a cart and off we strolled through checkpoint Charlie. I flashed my “executive” members card which instantly lets the fine young security lad know that, well, I m kind of a big deal! He acknowledges my glossy black plastic ticket to paradise with a sly wink and nod! Without haste the privileged are ushered inside! Let the carnage begin! Its only once you are inside the magnitude of this building truly takes your breath away. It lays before us like a blank canvas of consumerism! Waiting for us to fill it with colors and vision. Each item placed into our cart is an expression of our lives. A snapshot of likes and dislikes. We are a tapestry smeared with food, wine and bathroom supplies!
Our evening is proceeding well, I feel a second date may arise from this encounter. We are chatting like we’ve known each other most of our lives! (oh wait we have) We also find ourselves blindly strolling down each and every isle. We have no need for a 50lb bag of kitty litter, but it’s reassuring to know if we did need some it was there! The international fare is delicious! 
There are free food tasting stations spread throughout the store allowing you to sample a little bit of everything from around the world on sale this week. Brilliant!! Halfway through the store I stopped the cart, took my wifes hand, slowly leaned forward-looking her dead in the eye, I proclaimed ever so softly: do you hear that my love? She chuckeld, snuggled up real close to me, then placed her other hand over my heart. While pressing up against my chest, she whispered I do. I hear it so loudly it hurts. Silence.
Somewhere between 20lb tubs of peanut butter and 54 packs of 4 ply toilet paper, in a Sunday packed COSTCO, two people held each other in silence. Neither one of 
us could hear the hundreds of people talking. No kids screaming at us, no little children needing something every two or three minutes. No teenagers fighting over the remote control eventually ending up wrestling where inevitably someone gets hurt. No back talking, sniveling, whining, complaining or crying and that’s just from us!
Nope a romance was rekindled today, a date was made and kept. We didn’t need all those fancy date night stereotypes to make it happen. Some may refer to me as a cheap bastard, or possibly a loser husband for not blocking out the time, creating a proper night away. I say pishaw! I took a bad situation and improvised! By the end of the day my wife professed her undying affection and I still ended up footing the bill for $350.00 dollars! (approximate cost of dinner and the opera for two) The only difference is instead of one night at the opera with dinner afterwards; the Ipod is charged up and we’re all going to eat for weeks!
Whose the loser now!!!
A Revelation
Today I spent the better part of the afternoon looking forward to settling in to write something humorous. Feeling the need for a little laughter in my life opened my eyes to numerous opportunities as I traveled about. Many ideas floated around in my dome, so funny were some, I was seen standing alone laughing out loud like a crazy person on the subway. Not a bad thing really, I think it’s a benefit to keep people off guard sometimes.
It felt as though my brain was on fire! Smile across my face, grinning from ear to ear, I could hardly keep my enthusiasm to blog under wraps. It seemed an eternity before the keys of my computer were clacking beneath my finger tips! Writing keeps me sane and this was my moment of pure laughter ridden sanity, waiting to unfold! I sat down at my desk with a hot cup of tea, cracked my knuckles and gazed upon my carelessly scribbled notes of hysterics. Then something occurred to me, hitting my brain like a ton of bricks! I was rocked to the core, my eyes darted across the desk top searching for my calendar, hoping praying I was wrong. It just couldn’t be, nope, no way! I really didn’t need this right now! Pure selfishness on my part really.. But I knew it was true, I could sense it, I could feel it, the pit of my stomach hurt and I began to feel nauseous. It doesn’t matter how many years go by, its always there to remind me, to haunt me, to let me know how quickly life can change. Everything changes in the blink of an eye and there is nothing any of us can do about it.
Back in time we go:
March 22 2001
A day like any other, right? What I didn’t know was this would be the last day I would ever have a normal conversation with my wife again. It was the last time we went about our business like all married couples will. Off to work, off to daycare for the boys, off to school for me. Dinner with the family, small talk before bed, studying for me, snuggling with the baby for her. It was another average some might even say boring day. Something I took for granted all to often. Something I think we all take for granted “all to often”.
March 23 2001
I awoke early and headed off to school, I kissed my wife on the cheek and told her I loved her. She mumbled good luck on your test and I love you, it was the last time I would ever hear her voice. It was the last interaction with recognition that would ever transpire between the two of us. Little did I know what test she really was referring too. It was and has been the hardest test of my life.
She had the day off and was going on a trip to the park with our oldest, the newborn and some friends. I was in class preparing to take an exam when I received the call. A friend of ours, with her at the park called me, panicked, nervously explaining that my wife was on the ground complaining of severe chest pain. “She just wants to go home” was exclaimed; our friend didn’t think that was right. Little did she know how right she was! I remained calm performing a quick assessment over the phone, quickly advising her to hang up with me and call 911! If she didn’t do it I was going too! I had the day off work for class, so it was my Engine Company that arrived on scene. My guys took care of her, my guys accompanied her to the hospital, my guys made the call, reporting everything they knew directly to me. My guys were suffering too.
And so started a 19 day odyssey of emotion, heart-break, self discovery, unity, hope, and finally complete destruction of what I thought was my life. Kimberly Nadine perished on April 10 2001 after a hard-fought battle against a failing heart. That very moment started a journey that woke me up sending me on my way. It was the test of my life and I am still living that test to this day.
A promise made, a promise kept…..
I promised Kim I would never forget those 19 days, I also promised I would never forget the ten years we spent together, using them as a lesson learned in how not to be a husband. I was selfish, self-centered, egotistical and a generally a poor excuse for a spouse. Looking back I often wonder why she chose me. She tried her best to smooth the rough edges, but before finishing the job she was gone. This left me looking into the eyes of our children, seeing her and wondering why. So I’ve made a point to never forget, every year it comes, on this day I keep my promise. To hold that in perspective one must remember, It’s hard to take a scar and never let it heal. To pick at the wounds of those lost until they bleed. But I continue to do this, as a reminder of what it takes to be a better person. The person I felt she always wanted me to become. I kept a detailed journal over the 19 days at Stanford hospital. On this day every year I take a moment to myself, pick up the journal I kept, let it fall open and read an entry from what ever page appears. In 11 years the same page has never revealed itself twice. I read it, I remember, I go through sadness, anger, and eventually peace. It’s difficult to do, it leaves a lump in my throat, and sometimes depending on the page, it leaves me weeping. Not for the fact she perished, not for the fact she is not here to see her children, but for the unknown. I will never know what she felt, or how she suffered. But I carry a fair idea due to my medical knowledge. I will never know if she gave up because I told her it was ok to go, letting her know I understood if she wanted to quit fighting. She fought really hard through two failed operations, the odds were stacked against her. I knew it, the doctors knew it, no one wanted to verbally say it! After I whispered it was ok, and told her I loved her I stepped out of the room to gather myself and bring her mom in to see her. It never happened, ten minutes later she went into cardiac arrest and died. I will never know if she heard those words I wanted so badly to take back. I will never know if she heard me say I love you one last time. Those images can never be erased from my head, images of her dead lifeless body lying there so peaceful at rest. Cold…….
So that brings me to today.
My cheerfulness depleted, my humor erased. I walked to my dorm and pulled out the books that hide my journal. In goes the good air, out goes the bad. Head pounding, weight of a rough week on my shoulders, eyes already misting, I hold the book ever so gently as to not influence the fall of pages. It opens… Here is the page it fell upon.
It’s not the greatest, I wrote it 11 years ago, tired, exhausted and emotionally spent.
April 22, 2001
Its been 12 days since you’ve gone. I am lonely and tired. Caring for both boys by myself is exhausting. I never realized how much I took your hard work for granted. I promise to never do that in a relationship again. Someday I think I will publish this journal, not just for the boys, but for all men in America. My eyes have been opened and I feel that many as I was are walking around blind.
I want every man in America to learn these lessons now and not the hard way as I have! It’s too painful, and though many will have to learn them the hard way maybe, just maybe if one listens it will make a difference.
Men in America need to understand what true love is:
True love is not sex
True love is holding hands, not because you have to, but because you want too.
True love is knowing when to look deep in her eyes and tell her its going to be OK.
A true loving marriage does not consist of coming home to find your laundry done, your meal cooked and a warm bed to sleep in, that’s called having a maid.
True love is finding a free minute during the day to remind her you love her, and not just with words, but with actions, for they speak volumes.
True love is telling her you love her every morning, you never know when it will be your last.
True love is watching the mother of your children beam with pride at the sight of your children.
True love is never, ever going to bed angry.
True love is sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee listening. Even though you have some place else you should be and something you want to say, just listen.
True love is letting her sleep while you take care of the kids. Not just once in a while, but on a regular basis. They are your children too.
True love is standing back and marveling at how much one person can accomplish in your absence. Then letting the other know how much you appreciate the effort by performing the exact same way in her absence.
True love is never losing interest, marriage isn’t easy but if you can just call her once or twice a day to listen,talk, and remind her how much you love her, your relationship will flourish.
It’s a wonderful life.
I am remarried with two more children for a total of four, as most of you know who follow my blog. When I read my journal entry today I was fully expecting my annual tear fest to start storming and yet I realized something halfway through the page. I have accomplished all of these snippets. Every single one of them! I kept my promise! I kept it, I kept my word and I have a relationship that I never take for granted. I am blessed, I am whole, my family is one.
In life we are often faced with difficult insurmountable obstacles that are placed in our paths of growth and exploration. But overcome them we will, with perseverance, and will power. Remembering who we are, where we come from and trusting in where we are going. I never in my life thought at 34 I would be widowed with two kids. It was a hard and bumpy ride, I pray I am never in that position again. It would have been a shame had I not learned from the experience. But I came away from it stronger and wiser than before, able to give and receive love without question. To trust and believe that lives can be rebuilt, relationships forged. To get up off the floor dust myself off and start all over again. Death is never easy for anyone under any circumstances. Some lessons are learned the hard way. It’s just the way it is…..
Remember life is a gift for you to cherish. Dont waste it. For all you know tomorrow is your last day. How do you want to be remembered?
Coming to terms.
I apologize if todays posting is a bit of a ramble……
People die every day what are you gonna do about it?
I have held this quote very close to my chest. In my line of work we see people in the worst situations perish on a regular basis. I dare say I have seen more people die than I have friends living. It is a hard thing to witness, it doesn’t get easier with time, your mind just chooses to find alternate ways to deal with images left behind. I have always chosen humor. Humor when in the right context can take the edge off any situation. Even when that situation is beyond our control.
Humor, yep that’s what works every time… except for today. My dad has been falling down a lot lately, and though that might not seem a big deal, when you are 75 with diabetes, a pace maker and multiple stints a fall can quickly become a very scary event. He has been withering away for many years, as he once stood 6 feet tall at a robust 250-300 pounds. 
He now tips the scales a 165 with a towering height of 5’8. Osteoporosis along with a multitude of medications keeping him alive have definitely taken their toll on my fathers well-being. It seems the falls were all indicative of a larger problem, as it couldn’t be any other way.
Sit down I can take it
Doctors report is in, it seems dads kidneys are failing (he has 50% function) and his cardiologist wants to replace the stents surrounding his heart. What does all this mean for him? He has some very tough decisions to make in regards to his health and future care. What does it mean for me? What does it mean for my kids? What does it mean for our friends?
It means eventually I will witness one more person perish from this earth. My dad. I have always realized a day will come when one or both of my parents will pass away, but it never seems like a real date. It’s that unknown, the boogie man in the closet, the sunset on the horizon you can never get too. But it’s there, its life’s dirty little secret. It may not happen for a year, it may not happen for 5 years, but when kidneys start down the road of failure its only a matter of time.
I am scared. I feel like a little boy whose emotions are raw. I am alone in a dark room without my blankie. I worry for my children, witnessing their first real experience with death. How will we handle it as a family? Making a negative seem positive sounds like a daunting task. What impression will this leave in their minds as I grow older? How do I reassure them I am not going anywhere for a while? Then I wonder what are they really going to remember of their grandfather?
My father is a tough man to be around sometimes. Stoic and silent about his personal affairs, we have never really seen eye to eye on anything. He can be loud and brooding when irritated. He yells first, apologizes later. You are always in the wrong until he determines you to be in the right. Even to this day it’s hard to find conversation we can share. I love you has never flowed freely from his lips yet somehow I know he does.
But for all his rough and jagged edges he is the reason I have a sense of humor. When the man was in his prime he could charm the parka from freezing Eskimos and sell sand to land owners in the Sahara desert. He was funny, people loved him, he was always in charge and the first to help when ever it was needed. He wanted you to like him but was never offended if he wasnt your cup of tea. When we strolled into his clubhouse he was “Norm” from Cheers. I marveled at how many people really enjoyed being around him. I have tried my hardest to emulate those qualities as an adult.
He worried day and night about my future and what would become of a half witt such as myself. What I took for anger and frustration was his way of saying I care. I wanted nothing more than to get out of that house as a teenager, yet my wife and I helped my parents put a house on our property. Life has come full circle. When something like this comes about we always end up wishing we could go back in time. Its ridiculous really, but if I could go back for just five minutes I would be 8 years old and we would play one more game of basketball. Standing in the dirt on a warm summers night, playing a good old fashioned game of HORSE. Nothing beat those nights throwing the ball at the basketball hoop attached to the telephone pole alongside our house. Why? Because I really just want to see him laugh while he snooker’s me with his famous “hook” shot.
So what is my point? Where am I going with all this doom and gloom? Why am I rambling about events I have no control over? Its like this, sometimes the horizon isn’t the horizon anymore. It’s an actual place that you can reach, a destination once thought unobtainable now stares you in the face. No matter what you tell yourself, no matter how you go about your day, no matter what carnage you leave behind by your actions, and regardless of how deep you place your head in the sand.
People die everyday, what are you going to do about it means something. It means there is absolutely nothing you can do, so make the most of every moment, good bad or otherwise. Because someday that person will be someone you thought could never die. Then what are going to do? Huh?
When you find out please let me know. Ok?
I love you dad…
They call me Betty 