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 |   My journey through (and beyond) the valley with Cancer as my companion. |
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Dear Friend: This is not a Blog about writing! (I already have one of those.) This is a blog about a journey I am taking with illness. I have recently been diagnosed with Cancer. My goal is honest therapy as I progress through, and beyond this new reality in my life. I hope that, somewhere along the way you will find some words that will help you too. While this is, in fact, an interactive Blog, I hope that you will scroll slowly down this page. For you see, the front of this Blog IS my journey. The entries are conversations that are held along the journey.Yes, there is a lot on it--before actually getting to the Blog entries. But, I hope that by the objects and words which appear before the Blog itself, you might come to understand just a little bit about me, and my journey, and some truly amazing friends who have agreed to journey with me. I hope that you, too, will choose to accompany me on my walk--through the Valley. I invite you to join me, and discover the wondrous truths, meet some truly amazing people, and share those "memorable" moments this journey will undoubtedly present. Come along, won't you? In His Care, ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Would you like to help me help others? I found this amazing organization, and I am proud to be a sponsor. I hope you will check it out. It's called The Network For Good.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "RISUS OMNIA - INCRUMENTUS PER DEDECUS - SAPIENTIA PER DAMNUM" ("Every thing is funny - Growth through humiliation - Wisdom through loss") ~Leunig~ The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse. ~Helen Keller~ "If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people." ~Virginia Woolf~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "There is strength in truth." ~The Barton Family Crest~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” — Helen Keller, American social activist, public speaker and author (1880-1968) I have moved the list of my thanks for those who have helped to make this little Blog so very special. I hope that you will take a moment to read the list, growing every day, and let these fellow travellers along this journey know that you appreciate the contributions they make to our walk together.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please feel free to click on the Blog Rings icon below to be transported to some of the very best of the Best Bloggers around WDC. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** If you are new to WDC, or to our Blogging community, I highly recommend the monthly edition of "The Blogville News". Feel free to click below, and let scarlett_o_h know that a Blogger sent ya! Hey! We've started a Christian's Blog Ring on WDC. Click on the logo, and join us! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Budroe
 Ring LeaderI have three publications at the moment. Here is a link to purchase my latest one. Buy a great read, and help a fellow writer out, Okay?  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Generally speaking, I do not make New Year's Resolutions. I NEVER make them prior to February 4th. (99% of all 'Resolutions' have failed by this time). I'm just playin' the odds! If I had made any Resolutions for 2007, however, the first among them would have been a personal commitment to myself that I would have only blue dates on my archive calender (Unless, of course, the dates just never appeared!) for my Blog entries. As you can see, the date for yesterday is Black. <Sigh> So much for Resolutions! There is a lot going on with me medically this week. We are kicking in the "Doing Things" phase of the first part of this journey. I am cheating now, and am going to copy an update I wrote at another beloved site. It saves time, and tells what needs be told without the requirement of additional creativity. A Non-Update Update! Hello, Beloved! There isn't too much to report. We have crossed the bridge from "Get Ready" to "Here It Comes!" with the ringing in of the new year. Two appointments with my Doctor have had to be rescheduled, due to a series of amazing (and, at least to me, amazingly funny) accidents in my Doctor's offices that got her New Year started off with quite a (literally) bang! It seems the very large, very old water heater in the offices above hers decided over this past weekend to blow up, or explode, or something (whatever old water heaters do) and started pouring water non-stop onto the floor of the offices (her office ceiling). Needless to say, the ceiling came down, bringing the water with it. She is looking at me strangely, but I so far have her convinced that it was NOT Dad offering her Baptism. Tons (again, literally) of damage to her offices, equipment, and paperwork (including mine!) have caused her to come back from vacation with a suddenly altered agenda. This week, I will check in with the Colonoscopy folks, and schedule the repeat complete (Full) Colonoscopy. Doc is jumpin' up and down mad because it has to be re-done, and also because it is not yet done . The Primary medical concern remains the Pulmonary Hypertension. It appears, from the latest tests (MRI, C/T, and X Ray) that the blood clot has grown-probably from seepage inside the damaged Lung tissue. I briefly considered, today, a phone call to my former boss, who happens to be one of the most skilled and talented Vascular/Thoracic Surgeons in the country. I wanted to get a simple definition of Pulmonary Hypertension that I could use to help explain the condition to a second-grader. (It's a habit I got into when preparing sermons. If you can successfully explain something to a second-grader, it will probably be understood by any other audience.) I decided to do some searching on the topic first. I'm glad I did, because I found an explanation that fits the requirement at the website of the American Heart Association. http://www.americanheart.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=11076 It also appears as though the tumors in the Colon, previously invisible, are now visible in at least some cases. They, too, are convinced of their need to grow. For right now, they just have to be on their own. There are no viable options for treatment yet, because of the havoc created by the PHT. The Diabetes is responding well to treatment, and we are hopeful that this is merely condtional to the medical condition of my body. Heal the body, and the Diabetes will disappear. It is the largest percentage of my focused energy on a daily basis, yet is the least medical concern at the moment. The Thyroid and Parotid tumors have neither been addressed, or of particular concern yet. But, the Parotid Tumors are growing and changing from a soft, luiquidy mass on each side of my neck, into a concentrated harder mass. The paperwork is a major concern, and a major problem at the moment. The quite un-funny part of Doc's Dilemma is that the paperwork needed for my Disability with Social Security, and our local provider of MedicAid, Food Stamps, Hospice, etc. was sitting on her desk when it was pulverized by a very large, very old water heater succombing to the forces of gravity on a soaked floor. It must now be re-done (they lost their computers, as well.) According to the Social Security people, their mandate for submission deadlines are NOT (counter to my Doc's contention) constrained by the condition of her desk! Tick-tock. In order to perform the full Colonoscopy, I must be taken off several meds, including my blood thinning meds (not good). I must also have several injections prior to the procedure. I also must be sedated (heavily) for this procedure. The schedule is quite full for out-patient procedures. For these, and several other reasons, Doc wants to admit me to the Hospital. I told her that would happen only when she can give me an exit date. No open admissions for me. It is very early on the journey, and it has been quite the adventure. Life - changes have been dramatic, and almost immediate. I am, of course, still dealing with the torrent of the emotional, and find myself being physically exhausted quite often. Being in PJ's can be a very good thing. That is where things stand, at the moment. My spirits are high, yet I do feel Ole Ugly sneakin' around, just seein' if there is a place to slither in and upset the cart. Life is getting rough around these parts, but I am well-prepared, and well-defended. Thank you for your love, and your prayers. I covet them now, as always. And, I hope that even in these "interesting" times, Dad will be able to show off like crazy. I will let you know more, as it develops. In His Care, Budroe End of Update On other fronts, I will be interviewed this afternoon by the newspapers. That could be interesting, if it happens. There's been some time-juggling issues going on. I may re-schedule for next week. It must necessarily take a bit of a lesser position to other, and more immediate matters like Doctors, exams, and waxing my drapes! I am to have company this weekend, from some friends who will be visiting from out-of-state. A social visit, I am told. I suspect, however, them to be co-conspirators from the Doctor's Office--they just have that look about 'em! It should be interesting, and great fun. Hopefully, they will not regret the trip. I am just pretty much cruising as we drop into the Valley. I hope your day is going better than Dudette's. Well, at least we all have something to measure our conditions against, now don't we? LOL. One of my dear friends notified me late yesterday that she has been admitted to the Hospital for what appears to be rather emergency surgery this morning. She went for routine bloodwork. It is yet one more example (if there BE a thread to the various parts of this entry) of the frustrations that can accompany this journey. The unexpected is not a casual observer, but a constant companion. When your Doctor says it's urgent, and you are thinking about grocery-shopping after, it can spin you around--literally. While one of our greatest weapons, when we are called upon this journey, is the determination to keep looking ahead, our feet sometimes trip. Falling is, generally, ungraceful, undignified, and just plain scarey. It is terribly important that we all remember to live where our feet are. Looking ahead is a good and necessary aspect of the journey. But, success usually comes only one day, or even one moment at a time. We can make all the Resolutions for "out there" that we wish--and we should. It is just a part of the human condition. Everyone, even those called upon this particular journey, needs a valid reason to wake up in the morning. We need to need to do things, go places, be productive, and contributing members of our society. Cancer patients sometimes find it very hard to contribute anything to anyone. We are, more often than not, the receivers of other peoples' deeds. Every time our Resolutions fail, regardless of the reason, it is felt as a personal failure. Little is much, sometimes. I wanted to keep every date in my Calendar Blue. I was, at first, going to attempt to create 51 quality Reviews/Critiques within 24 hours of the new year. I think I have scaled that back a bit. Now, I hope to create 51 quality Reviews/Critiques this year. I will entertain myself with the notice of just how long this year that will take. I would like to create 51 chapters of new fiction words, spread across the spectrum of my writing projects this year. That does not include the need to edit, and prepare a remaining 33 chapters of the first book in the series for publication. I wish to enter quality short stories into 51 contests here at WDC this year. I have found a wonderful outlet for "moment" writing. I hope they will reflect good work. I hope they all win. I pray that any one of them sees the light of day. I would like to create some truly quality writing this year. The projects are there, with more waiting. It would be wonderful to consistently create writing worthy of being read. I would love to do it without the necessary pain of endless editing. While I do love the editing process, it is to me much more of a time-consuming task than it should be. First, I concern myself with the technical aspects. Then I consider the flow, as it pertains to the plotlines, arcs, and the "building" of the story. Next, I polish individual words, sentences, and paragraphs. Having done all that, I take a complete "re-look" at the scenes. Do the Chapters make sense in their order? Where are the empty words? And, finally, just how long does it take this verbose author to get to "The End"? As a mentor and dear friend once reminded me quietly, as I was preparing a Sermon: "Ya know, Bud, it doesn't have to be eternal to be immortal!" If you can say the same thing in fewer words, you should. If you can say something in only one word, that is even better! Then, of course, that compiled (emphasis on "piled") work is then delivered into the hands of my Editor. You would be amazed at the number of pages I get back! I learned very early on in this process to never "presume" that my editor's talents could be abused. She simply refuses to do my work. I'm not exactly certain of what her "work" is, but evidently I am the one reason keeping her from doing it! (There's just something that seems fishy to me about that entire deal. Call me cynical, but....) I would love to receive 51 rejections this year! That is a personal writing goal, as well. That would put me over the 100 mark. My personal philosophy about the Rejection Notice is that it takes 100 Rejection Notices to get 1 contract. Submissions are lagging, at the moment. I need to attend to that. But, mostly, I have a Resolution in the back of my brain that I am truly going to pay close attention to. I do not want to have a very old, very large water heater fall through the ceiling upon my head. So far, I'm one for one on that one. I'm very glad Dudette was winning money at the boat, and not "catching up"--especially on MY paperwork. I'd never hear the end of it. Ever. In His Care, Budroe PS: I just found this from an old email. I would love to believe that these are some Resolutions that I could make, and keep, any time. So, maybe today these words from an old mentor, Ann Landers, are worthy: " PERPETUAL NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS Let this coming year be better than all the others. Vow to do some of the things you've always wanted to do but couldn't find the time. Call up a forgotten friend. Drop an old grudge, and replace it with some pleasant memories. Share a funny story with someone whose sprits are dragging. A good laugh can be very good medicine. Vow not to make a promise you don't think you can keep. Pay a debt. Give a soft answer. Free yourself of envy and malice. Encourage some youth to do his or her best. Share your experience, and offer support. Young people need role models. Make a genuine effort to stay in closer touch with family and good friends. Resolve to stop magnifying small problems and shooting from the hip. Words that you have to eat can be hard to digest. Find the time to be kind and thoughtful. All of us have the same allotment:24 hours a day. Give a compliment. It might give someone a badly needed lift. Think things though. Forgive an injustice. Listen more. Be kind. Apologize when you realize you are wrong. An apology never diminishes a person. It elevates him. Don't blow your own horn. If you've done something praiseworthy, someone will notice eventually. Try to understand a point of view that is different from your own. Few things are 100 percent one way or another. Examine the demands you make on others. Lighten up. When you feel like blowing your top, ask yourself, "Will it matter in a week from today?". Laugh the loudest when the joke is on you. The sure way to have a friend is to be one. We are all connected by our humanity, and we need each other. Avoid malcontents and pessimists. They drag you down and contribute nothing. Don't discourage a beginner from trying something risky. Nothing ventured means nothing gained. Be optimistic. The can-do spirit is the fuel that makes things go. Read something uplifting. Deep-six the trash. You won't eat garbage – why put it in your head? Don't abandon your old-fashioned principles. They never go out of style. When courage is needed, ask yourself, "If not me, who? If not now, when?" Look at the person you have blamed for your unhappiness, and ask yourself: "Was the criticism legitimate? Did I do anything to help them or did I just decide I am better than he or she and walk away?" Walk tall, and smile more. You'll look 10 years younger. Don't be afraid to say, "I love you". Say it again. They are the sweetest words in the world." (And, my personal addition): Pray, every day. Pray hard, like it's the most important thing you can possibly do! It is. -- Ann Landers "I would much rather live my life like there IS a God, and find out later that I was wrong, than to live my life like there ISN'T a God, and find out later that I was wrong." ~~Me~~ (Although I am sure somebody had my thought before I did. Probably that 'Anonymous' guy. P.P.S. The interview was re-scheduled for next week. P.P.S.S. For those of you who may be interested, I am at least attempting to honor one of my considerations in this entry. I also have no desire to garner the angst and/or ire of a particular Cousin! Here, for your edification (rolls eyes) is my newest writing effort. It came in response to a Forum comment that just "itched" my brain.
Reviews, Critiques, edits and/or comments will be appreciated. Brutality is optional. Non-members can respond via EMail if they have an itch. MBF |
| True to form, it seems that, about every 9 entries I get a bad case of "Tired Feet" on this journey. Tired feet for me may be a feeling of being overwhelmed with the subject at hand. It may be a needed time to look forward, and attempt to determine where the next best step along the journey may be. It could be that I just feel a sense of the need to step away from the topic for a minute. Thoughts which travel through my brain need release that may begin as a single word, and grow into a couple of sentences--but not to the point of being "entry" material. These "thought fragments" are quite common in my (pardon the expression) Brain. In a previous entry "Invalid Entry" I wrote about doing a hard thing. In that article, one of the people I had to notify via EMail was my Cousin. The other was my very best friend in the entire world. I have heard from both--in a huge way. My Cousin, Annie, is working with me to figure out how, and when, to share the news of my latest adventure with the most important person in my world, my Aunt (her Mother). And, it would seem, she has decided to bring an Army with her, to share this journey with me, as well. I'd like to tell you just a little bit about her, my Cousin.As I have shared with you, Cancer is a familiar presence in the life of my family, and my extended nuclear family. Both of my parents were diagnosed with Cancer, and eventually succombed to it (or related illness of it). That is something that Annie shares with me. Her Father, my Uncle Morris, died from Cancer. (Edited). Her Mother has been suffering from Heart Disease, Emphysema, Leukemia, and (recently diagnosed)Lung Cancer for a number of years as well, and is currently undergoing Radiation treatments as this is written. (Thanks for the dates, Annie B. They do tend to run together for me.) For all of those moments, Annie has been the Primary Care Giver to her parents. She is also a full-time employee, managing the office of a large and successful bridge contracting company. She also is a Coordinator/Producer of the "Miss Virginia" Pagaent, and the "Miss Hampton-Holly Days" Beauty Pagaent, held annually in Hampton Virginia. (Her Sister is a former "Mrs. Virginia" contestant. I coulda SWORE she won! Edited) She also is a supporter and coordinator of the Hampton/Tidewater Annual "Race For the Cure", and the Annual Hampton "Relay For Life" Cancer fundraising events for the entire area. She is a magnificent Web designer, and a significant writer as well. She is also my cousin. She is also, and has been for every moment of my life, my very dear friend. Between her Brothers and Sister, and my family, there has always been what some would consider an unnatural affiliation; we have just always been family. And, when I say that, I mean immediate, close, family. (Please do not choose to entertain yourself with those strange Kentucky hillbilly jokes--okay, go ahead, I'll wait.) cuznanne is also one of the many who have recently chosen to join me on THIS journey, as well. I am hoping that you will soon meet her through her comments and writings here, because I believe she has many very important things to say to us all. But, even if she never speaks here, (which is not a requirement for anyone, by the way) it gives me a huge amount of comfort just to know that she and her family are beside me. If anyone could have justifiably chosen to avoid this journey, I can't think of a more qualified person than she. But she didn't. Because of her, my entire "other" family is now walking this journey with me. And, also, she has brought some amazing resources to bear in the process. One of those, I would immediately like to share with you. As I said in the beginning of this journey, I am aware that mine is not the first time this journey has been travelled. Today, thanks to Annie B. (her official family name!), I met a couple of people who not only know this journey intimately, but have given their lifework to helping those of us who are on the journey with Cancer. Their names are Roger and Kathy Cawthon. I don't know, but I do sincerely hope you have heard of them. Rather than tell you their story, I want them to tell you their story. I urge you to please take the time to visit http://www.thecancercrusade.com/default.asp and discover the CancerCrusade. For those of us who are Cancer patients/Survivors, there is a very special presentation--just for us-- that I would hope with all my heart you will visit at http://www.thecancercrusade.com/Cancer_Survivors/survivor-movie.asp I have written to the Cawthons, and have invited them to meet you as well. I hope that they will. I know that they will, as I have, become your most admiring friends. Even as we stumble, and bumble (all credit thereto goes to me, not you!) our way along this journey it completely amazes me to look from side to side, ahead, and behind each new day. The numbers of those who are choosing to walk alongside on this journey now count into the hundreds now. (IF WDC stats are to be believed--and maybe they should; although losing a whole day off the calendar--and MY Birthday to boot!!--does give cause for pause, SM!) <Looks furtively towards SM and SMs>  Some are survivors, and others are family members, friends, and loved ones of survivors who have taken this journey before. Of what value is a friend on a difficult journey? More than any human heart can conceive, for starters. I had a wonderful telephone visit with my very best friend in the world on my birthday! He, just newly arrived home in Reno, Nevada, had "weathered the storm" in Denver. He got to the Airport (Closed for several days), checked through, got through Security, got on his plane, and had an entirely smooth trip home! Only you, Lil Bro. He said there were people stranded "all over the Airport" as he sniggled his way to the seat home. We had a long chat, and more than a few tears. His Mother, my "other" Mother, battled Cancer for a number of years, before moving to Heaven several years ago. When I received my first diagnosis of Cancer in 1976, and shortly after it could no longer be found, he was the very first person I met on-base. We sang together in a Post Chapel Choir which I conducted. I was, in those days, a single soldier. For reasons that I do truly believe that neither he, nor I will ever know, we became best friends almost immediately. His family formally adopted me for that first amazing "Christmas" of 1976, and our relationship has been going non-stop ever since. Ron is an astounding musician with an angelic tenor voice that is only surpassed by his talent with a twelve-string guitar. He is also a professional-grade Photographer/Photo Journalist, and is currently finishing his Master's Degree in Education--while working full-time as an Elementary School teacher for the State of Nevada. Although he still hasn't gotten sufficient skills to handle a "real" computer (he uses one of those Mac toy thingeys!!), he is also his school district's Information Technologies Specialist, and spends much of his "Free" time (believe it! It's free!) instructing his fellow educators on classroom web design, web page creation, and the use of Information Technologies in the classroom. He is, without a doubt, my very best friend. I love him completely. He has been, and is now, a warrior on this battlefield as well. If, for no other reason than the fact that I know he has now volunteered for this journey as well, I have an even greater sense of peace in the fact that I am on this journey. I have other very near and dear friends that are with me each and every day on this journey, as well, from California to Moscow, from Seoul to Fallujia. From Brazil to Alaska, there are people who have been THE important factor in my life who, liking it not in the least, are here. They are with me, and for me--and for you as well. You, my dear friends of WDC, are my "secret weapon", and my first line of defense on this journey. You have shown a willingness, and a capacity to love selflessly in ways that amaze and astound me. It was you who first volunteered, and who stand by me faithfully each and every day. It is you who have given me the courage to write these difficult days into a format that others, who may come after us all, may use to find the same love, hope, and courage that you share with me each day. We are all equals here, on this journey. We lose whatever identity we may once have had, and simply become fellow travellers. I do have some very special Warriors who "take the point", and provide us all with a safe "rear guard" as we travel. You know several of them, and I hope you know one of them very well. If you do not, you really NEED to introduce yourself to her. She is not only a Cancer survivor, and currently a Cancer patient seeking remission stability, but she is a writer of the very first order, and a poet beyond compare, in my humble view. She winter is my shining light upon this journey, and I want you to know her well. There is no strength I have that compares to hers. And, there is no love that I can give that has not been shown to me by her. She IS my Warrior Princess. She is my friend. I love her. Even though she has been battling for her life these past weeks, still she has remained faithfully alongside, Shield at the ready, every moment of this journey with me. I owe her a debt that cannot be repaid. I hope you will help me, by letting her know just how very special she is to us all. If not for her, we surely would be completely "in the ditch". Thank you, Raven. Thank you, Ron. Thank you, Annie. Thank you all, so very much. I love you, too. I have been blessed in this life with some amazing people who have helped, loved, and guided me. I am happy, and just so very proud, to have an opportunity to introduce just a few of them to you. I hope, as the journey proceeds, to introduce more of them, and share some stories that will help you not only understand the reason these folks make the night stars shine brighter, but also why I count them as my personal heroes. This is one of those important lists I spoke of yesterday. Just reading this list of personal Heroes can make the longest day (or night) better. And, because above us all, there are countless legions of the most amazing Angels of Battle, galloping before us onto the battlefield with their chariots of fire, their swords of Truth, and their merciful wings of love, Thanks, Dad, for every thing. I love you, too. Love us all really good, Dad. Show off in only Your most amazing way, and help us to love You, and love each other every step along the way. In His Care, Budroe |
| Welcome to the Journey, 2007 Edition! I am so very glad you are here with me. I think we will have an exciting journey this year, and you being along makes it so very nice. Even as we descend into the Valley, you are a comfort to me. Your support, your love, your encouragement, and sometimes even your silence lift me up. It is you many who accompany this exodus that make it possible. I hope this new year has begun with peace, joy, love, safety, happiness and a renewed vision as we travel forward through this new year. A bridge has been crossed. No matter how much we may wish otherwise, we can never again exist IN 2006. For me, it is an important distinction to make. For many people, this past year was "THE" year that the world changed forever. For as long as I live, I will never again have a moment of my life that did not include Cancer in it. For me, this is an especially significant reality, because it is the second time it has happened. I am, by no means, alone in this reality. Many, many people have had a second diagnosis of Cancer. Some of them have had a span of years, or even decades between one diagnosis and the next (as is my case). To arrive back in the Valley is a bit of a shock to the system, and certain allowances must be made. Realistically, 2007 will be "The" year for many millions of people. Most of them have crossed the bridge without even realizing it. For those who have recently (or may soon be) called upon this journey, there is usually a very short amount of time between the original diagnosis, and the plummet into the disease. It can even sometimes be only a matter of moments, or hours. Perhaps, within days or weeks, there will be a trip to the Hospital, and all that follows it. Much must be done, and it is all important. There are several lists of items which must be checked off as complete, or they may forever remain unfinished. Questions and difficult decisions that have been in the background are now squarely in front of your eyeballs, and there is virtually no time to be casual about them. For me, that time was, for the greatest part, on the 2006 side of the bridge. What could be done on my several lists has been done as I have been able. Not all things are done, and may never be done to my satisfaction. I was blessed with weeks to put this new reality into perspective. That is just a huge amount of time when you are newly called upon this journey. There is, of course, a solution. I urge you, yet one more time, to avail yourselves of it. There are a number of very important things which can be completely accomplished before this need ever arises. Think about your own circumstance, in your health. I believe that you could probably make you own list of things that would need to be done. I will be creating MY lists, and will reference them later in these blogs. I hope that they will be of some help to those who are along on this journey. Because, like it or don't, the bridge (at least for me) has been crossed--and burned. 2007 stands before me, and I must not only advance into it, but through it successfully. The time of preparation is, whether I like it or not, pretty much over. There is a sadness to that for me. I think that I have done okay, but only okay. Now, there is time only for what is. It is time to fully dress in the armor of a Warrior, and attend to matters on the battlefield. I was not merely afforded moments, but weeks to make certain that nothing would be trailing behind me. Those troops that are available are assembled. They are, by no means, sufficient to overwhelm the enemy I face. There is, however, sufficient power for the battle. This is a task larger than any mere human--even a fierce warrior--could ever complete on their own. I am not on my own. I am by myself, but I am not alone. There are many amongst my travelling group. And, there is the very One who calls me to battle. And, no matter how alone I may feel, or how very much by myself I may truly be, there is also a very comforting truth that causes lightening to break forth from my sword. That same truth covers my shield with an invincible skin. That one truth has bound itself to every part of my armor, and it has sheathed my feet. Dad, and I ARE a majority. And that truth alone made the walk across the bridge worth all else. Knowing that He is on the 2007 side of the chasm brings me comfort, confidence, and hope. I do not predict the outcome of the battle, but I have read the Manual. I know how it ends--we win! I only know for sure that this truth will guide my every footstep, and those footsteps have been ordained, for reasons I neither know nor understand, onto this side of the bride. Here am I, Dad. I hope it will be nothing more than a journey which brings Him the good stuff. I do know just how much my Dad loves showin' off--especially when He is lovin' up on His kids! I don't expect this journey to be any different. So, thanks for walking along with me so far. I hope you will choose to walk just a little bit further. I just know there's going to be some really amazing sights along the way! In His Care, Budroe |
"Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others You are a natural diplomat, reasonable, tolerant, fair, always willing to listen to varying viewpoints, and ready to see the other side of an issue. Even if you strongly disagree with someone, you will try to find points of similarity and agreement rather than emphasizing the differences. You often avoid taking an extreme or one-sided stance on anything. You have a strong desire for harmonious and pleasant relationships, and express a spirit of cooperation, compromise, friendship, and fairness. You very much want to be liked and because of your need for approval and acceptance, you are easily influenced by others' opinions, especially when young. You so much want to please that often you will suppress your own intense or unpleasant feelings in order not to offend others. Sometimes your politeness is mis-interpreted as phoniness or wishy-washiness. Section 2: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation Serious, disciplined, and quietly ambitious, you are driven to prove yourself and to achieve material accomplishments and success. Your work, your position in the world, and your contributions to society are very important to you. You will persevere through enormous hardship and frustration in order to reach a goal you have set for yourself, and you often sacrifice much in the area of personal relationships and home life in order to do so." iVillage Astrology "Personal Birthday" Reading for 12/31/2006 for Capricorn (Partial) And, for a mere $19.95, I can see my full Horoscope reading! What a guy! What a deal! What a bargain! What a crock! And this just in from AIM's "Horoscope for Today": "Your mental world gains dominance today as emails, phone calls and conversations prevent you from taking as much time off as you wish. It might even seem like all forms of communication have become too noisy and keep you from your real work. Consider, however, that interacting with others may be what is most important now as you move into the year ahead." I was born on this date, at 11:55PM, in the year 1955 A.D. Since that time, I have had many "near misses" with death. There is no doubt, however, that on October 28th, 2006, I experienced the nearest miss. That event, and the events and realities emenating from it, created the purpose for writing this Blog. I did not originally intend to include my own birthday in these writings, but since I very nearly avoided this one, I thought I would share just a thought or two about it. I am very grateful to be experiencing this birthday today. I am, even moreso, grateful to be sharing it with you. In the short time that I have been a member of this community, I have been received, accepted, affirmed, and warmly welcomed. You have embraced me, and my little writings, not as friends but as family. One of the parts of my existence that I hope you have (or will) come to realize is the intrinsic value family holds in my life. There is, still and yet, save the relationship with Dad, nothing of life, or on this Earth, which means more to me than family. It is neither morose nor cliche to state that I do not know how many more celebrations of this day I will be afforded. In the simplest truth, none of us does. Also in truth, none should be taken for granted--by any of us. Every moment of the lives we have been given should be full. Joy, sorrow, love and sadness are all important aspects of the life well or fully lived. While it may seem that these writings do tend to visit the sadness of life, to at least the casual observer, I hope it is also evident that much joy and happiness has attended my fifty-one years of life too. I tend to be an optimist. I have been described (accurately, I believe) as a "hope addict". I accept that definition, although I do tend to ground myself in an idealistic - reality model. I do tend to seek out the best in a given situation. Let it be said of me that my feet were firmly planted in the clouds! I was once told that it is sometimes entirely too easy to find something not to like about a person. The better goal is to seek, until you find it, something to admire about a person. My writing (I hope) reflects the better things more than the bitter things. I know that, every day, I try to make sure that my life does so. It is not from arrogance, as some would believe, or haughtiness. It is a real and concerted effort to shine a light brightly into the darkness. I may do it poorly and without the proper punctuation at times. Yet, the effort is worthy of my determined decision, every day. In the completion of fifty-one years of human living, throughout a myriad of circumstances, there has been only one human being that I could find absolutely nothing to admire. And, in that person, that is when I discovered something to admire. There actually IS a bottom to the gene pool. That is somehow comforting to know. Although it never ceases to amaze me to discover the new and exotic ways we, as human beings, can create with the solitary purpose of hurting one another, still I know there is a limit to even our creative genius. But, I have known countless people in my life who have given me hope, and joy, and purpose. I have yet to meet the one person, although several have come close, to show me the upper limit of human capability for good. I seek them out. I find myself magnetically drawn toward their reality, their beauty, and their ability to find the better, and the very best of the human condition. Does this make me an idealogue? Many would say that this is true. I, however, do not think of myself as an idealogue. I am a realist of the highest order; I merely choose to seek, and reflect the reality of the truest goodness which pervades my every day. It is a personal choice, and a purposeful decision. I met the most intelligent and gentle person I have ever known, and I married her. I met the most giving, tender, and good person I have ever known, and he remains today my very best friend in the world. I should EVER be half the giant of a man he is. For the greater part, I have had the fortunate condition of finding out, and centering myself around goodness, and good people. I hope and pray that my writing honors and does homage to those people, and that I cause no harm. I pray that, with whatever time I may have yet remaining, my living reflects the very best of them, and those incredible things that I am learning from them every single day of my life. And, above it all, I hope that my every breath is a reflection of the one who created me before the foundations of the world were laid; who knitted me together in my Mother's womb for His purposes--Dad. For those to whom I have brought grief, or sadness, or wrong, I ask forgiveness. They, too, are many. Life has some bumpy intersections. Sometimes, the very best you can hope for is to simply make it through them. Sometimes, it is an ugly ordeal at best. I have never claimed to be better than anyone else--at anything. I've made some mistakes that are legends that will long survive my earthly existence. But, how is life learned without them? And, how better is life lived because of them! There is just no such thing in life as an "In" without an "Out". Life's limitations are measured by them. Life proceeds from birth until death. There is no such thing in life as a "Top" without a "Bottom". The heights, and the depths, of life are many, and each is to be experienced to the full. There is no such thing in life as "Joy" without "Sorrow". However wide the expanse of your living, you need a liberal application of each, for that IS the life well-lived. And, as Socrates so aptly said: "The unexamined life is not worth living". Each of these: the linear movement through life, the upper and lower limits of life, and the full breadth of life must be experienced, and examined. I hope that I have lived, and will continue to live my life fully in all these planes of my existence. I hope that time will afford me just a mere sliver of an opportunity to write of my reflections that not only makes some sense of these things, but will afford those who read of them hope, and purpose. And, when it is completed, I only hope that someone, somewhere, will hear of my passing, say "I remember him!", and not regret the memory. Thank you for loving me so much, teaching me so very well, and allowing me to play in your garden. I hope that, if I cannot leave it better than I found it, at least my footprints will not be too much a bother. What better, richer, or more fully-lived life could one possibly hope for? Here's to tomorrow. Soli Deo Gloria! "Ugly Ole Alice" is a nefarious sobriquet attached to not only one of the most wonderful persons ever to grace this planet, but also the only other human being I ever met who shares my birthdate (I'm one year older, so I'm the Elder she must "mind".) She is a loving Mother, and dedicated wife to the man who shared Pastoral and Hospital ministry with me for more than three years. He was a mentor, and shall forever be my friend. Her humor, love of life, and her constant explosions of joyous living remain as a loving memory. Her name is Alice Reese. Happy Birthday, kiddo! I'll bet you never thought we'd make it this far, did ya? I love you. Someday, if I can summon the intestinal fortitude, I will tell you a story about Alice and I, and about 600 witnesses. (Well, if yer gonna do it, DO it!) It is, truly, one of the legends of my life. And, you may believe me when I tell you that no one regrets that more than I. Oi!! |
| Today's topic is, as you might suspect, a special one for me. But it is a difficult one. It involves a topic that is not only very difficult to write about, but I would suspect one that is pretty uncomfortable to read, as well. Seeing where it is that you are reading, and I am writing, that will probably not come as a staggering surprise. But, today's topic involves not only a deep love, but a tragic end. The topic involves teen suicide. If you feel queasy, it is best to turn away now. Born on December 30th, 1949, Anne Lawson Fields was my Sister. She was, among other things, one of the assigned "baby sitter" sisters for those who came after her in the family order. That was a position passes down, from Sister to Sister as the family grew. She had a remarkable gift--laughter. I also remember that she had a very special love of chocolate milkshakes. She loved making them for us when she babysat. She didn't care that we would sometimes wear more than we drank, and she seemed to take great joy in merely being around us little kids. She was the first seat, first Clarinetist in our High School Band--a national champion band, at that! She was a superior-rated Alto singer in the School Choristers, and a repeat Kentucky All-State Soloist. She was a member of the National Honor Society, and her class Salutitorian. She was a tutor of the "hard" subjects to her classmates, and she loved writing. I learned to write (cursive) by tracing her writing. Her favorite color of ink was Turquoise Blue. I found it easiest to follow. To say that I have her handwriting style is true, and I consider it a complement. Her penmanship was just superb--artistic, in fact. She was a result of the "Palmer" school of writing, if there are any who may recall that particular brand of schoolhouse tyranny. She was a Girl Scout leader, and had garnered several national Girl Scouting awards by the time she reached her seventeenth year. She was a cheerful, over-achieving peer leader in our home community. Everybody loved Anne, but nobody loved her as much as I. She was also the spitting image of her hero, whom she fearlessly idolized: our Father. And, it has been said that, of all his children, the one he truly loved was Anne. She would have been six years old when I was born. She would have been six years old when, two days after my birth, my Father packed his bags and left our family. This was an event that none of us ever truly understood, nor truly accepted. It was an event which, for Anne, defined the remainder of her life. When my Father eventually did the one thing that, in our mountain community, was considered the unforgiveable, and brought his new wife home to the mountains to live, it was Anne who was his defender. With our Mother's permission, Anne moved in to our Father's new home with his new wife. There were several reasons for this. Some were practical, and some were just Anne Lawson. My Father, being (among other things) an Attorney, had secured a very favorable Divorce from my Mother, and was required to pay the princely sum of $75.00 per month in Alimony and Child Support--the legally proscribed minimum payment at the time. Both of my parents were, and had been for years, thundering alcoholics. "The Habit" was not only another child, but the most expensive child in the brood. Perhaps, as the youngest child, this is why I never really believed in the efficiency of "Trickle Down Economics". I know it never seemed to work at my house. My Father could "afford" Anne. They idolized each other. She was fiercely loyal to her Mother, and to her family. I knew, as a little guy, that Anne "lived" at Daddy's house, but she was always with us playing, or babysitting, or studying. By living at our Father's house, she was not only afforded the very best of the very best of all things, but she was not detracting from the difficult task of financing a family, and an alcohol addiciton, either. There was a decided flavor of sacrifice to her decision. And, the agreement made was that she would always have total access to our Mother, and her family even though she "lived" somewhere else. Anne was perhaps the most affectionate of us all. She loved openly, completely, and with a great determination. She was determined that we knew we were loved. We were equally determined that she would know just how loved she was, as a result. It was a bad and tortured existence as one person attempted to, single-handedly, love a family back together. Or, at least to love them so very much that there would not be an insurmountable chasm to overcome. For many years, it seemed to work, but in reality it never did work at all. Anne was fiercely loyal to her family. It was Anne that felt the anger of the community towards my Father. She was his first defender, which often put her directly on the opposite side of my Mother, and her siblings. This was, to her, a decided confusion which she never truly understood. Reality did not take an equal position to the fact that it was her Father you were talking about. She was a true Warrior in her defense of her family--AND her Father. These two equal, yet opposing forces created a crack that no one saw, which merely continued to grow over time. During her Senior year of High School, and shortly after being notified that she had been selected as her class Salutitorian, the crack widened perceptibly. She was overjoyed that her very best friend in the world had been chosen as Valedictorian--which had caused a bit of a stir. It was a known fact that Anne had the highest GPA in her class, by a narrow margin. That only made sense, as she and her best friend had every class together, and did every homework assignment together for their entire High School career. Michelle was excited about her upcoming Scholarship to the University of Kentucky to study Nursing. Anne was thrilled with her Scholarship to Vanderbilt University, to study Psychology and Family Counselling. Anne's Scholarship was not dependent upon her final class standing. Michelle's Scholarship, however, was. And, somehow, it (to the stunned shock of her entire High School class) turned out that Michelle beat Anne out by .003%. Anne was ecstatic for her very best friend, and they were determined to walk the aisle together as equals. They would (in a decided departure from the norm) both give addresses to the graduating student body. But there could be no co-validictorians; it had to be a clear distinction. Don't get me wrong. This was not some kind of martyrdom on my Sister's part. It was the very hard work, and significant connivance, of a dedicated and loyal friend. She knew she was covered with a full Scholarship. She also knew that if Michelle did not get the Scholarship, she could never afford to go to school on her own. It was a simple decision that made the best sense for all concerned--save one. Guess who was very much dis-pleased with this shocking turn of events? My Father felt embarassed that she had come in second place. And, being my Father, he was not exactly shy in letting us all know of his feelings on the matter. ALL of us. The crack widened still, as betrayal fought betrayal. This was a stone that hurt too much. And, the girl who had sacrificed so much, felt a pain that she knew she would never heal. Yet, she tried desperately to re-gain the position on the pedestal she had been placed on. On the 1st day of March, 1967, my Sister Lyn was going to visit my Sister Marcia in Lexington. Our three-year-old Niece (Marcia's first and only child) was a particular joy to us all. FINALLY, I wasn't the baby any more!! This new life in our family was everyone's joy. Lyn asked Anne to accompany her on the trip. As the trip had been hastily arranged, and time was short, Anne asked her Mother if she could go. Being Mother, she was told that she must first seek permission from her Father. That was going to be a tough assignment, given the recent dealings they had endured together, Anne knew. She told Mother that she had gotten permission from her Father (She had not!). Mother then gave her permission, and off to Lexington they drove. That night, our Father called to see where Anne was, and why she had not come home for Supper, as was expected. Immediately knowing the truth, my Mother advised my Father that she had given Anne permission to travel with Lyn to Lexington. My Father's reported response was "I didn't know she was going." Anne knew. And, on the return trip, Lyn knew because Anne told her. When they returned home, Anne was beside herself with worry and fear. Mother told her that she had to "face the music" with our Father. So far as I can personally recall, it was the first time any person I knew had overtly lied to our Father. We instinctively knew the World was going to end. We just had no idea how. After hours of tears and crying, my Mother told Anne she had to face her Father. Lyn took her home, and asked Anne if she wanted company. Anne said that she had to do this on her own. After all, she had created the problem, and she would resolve it. Shortly before she left our home, she was in my Mother's bedroom crying terribly. I went in, and laid down beside her. I was 11 years old. I knew something terrible was in her mind. I told her that, no matter what, I loved her. She held me, crying, and told me she loved me, no matter what. Shortly after, she left to go to her house. Evidently, the punishment decided upon by my Father was complete silence. For some two days, he never spoke the first word to her. There was no worse possible payment required. The crack widened, the chasm completed, and she broke in two. On March 4th, 1967, Anne took a revolver hidden by our step-sister in her bedroom (no one except Anne had been told of the presence of this weapon), walked out into the back yard of my Father's house, and shot herself in the head. She died instantly. She was 17 years, 2 months, 5 days old. She is, today, buried at the foot of my father's grave. That is appropriate, I think. I remember those days. I remember the events which precipitated them. I remember the days, months, years, and decades which followed them. This is, so far as I know, the first time that Anne's story has been told. I tell it for a reason, and I hope you will listen. Please! Children only need one thing. Before they need air to breathe, food to eat, shelter, or warmth, children need to know that they are unconditionally loved. Regardless of ability, accomplishment, or purpose, no child can exist in our world safely without this knowledge. Even the most perfunctory look at the current statistics with a dispassionate glance will scare you spitless! Suicide is, today, the number THREE cause of death among teenagers in America. It is surpassed only by Alcohol and driving-related deaths. (Interesting pair, those two!) You MUST learn the signs of suicide! You MUST take any sign seriously, no matter how tangential it may seem, or how difficult it may be to accept. In America today, teen suicide ranks number one among teens as the preferred method of death. One in three of those teens who commit suicide (not counting the incredible number who attempt unsuccessfully!) do so because of sexual identification issues. Umm, let me repeat that. ONE IN THREE! While only approximatley 20% of American teens will identify themselves as GBLTQ, of those some 42% of teen suicides will come back to this reality. The remainder will be simply the lost children, like Anne. Amidst a sea of acceptance, validation, and praise and a world of caring and loving friends and family, these children are lost, isolated, depressed, withdrawn, lonely, sad, and terrified. They live in your house! It's (I hope, anyway) easy to understand my Sister Anne's dilemma. I hope I have told her story in such a way that you can feel her terror. She died with it. She died from it. She died because of it. In September of this year, I buried my oldest Nephew. He died because of an "accidental" drug overdose. It was ruled a suicide. Well, he took the drugs. He was not forced, at gunpoint by a stranger to ingest them. His family is completely asunder. "No one saw it coming!" Not true. No one cared enough to keep it from happening. Some, including myself, tried desperately to forestall it. But, in a moment, and a really poor personal decision made without sufficient knowledge, a life ended. My Sister has lost her first-born, and I very well may have lost my Sister as well, in the bargain. She is my only surviving sibling. And, not so long ago, she got involuntarily (one month after losing her Son) conscripted onto this journey with me. Children MUST know that they are loved unconditionally! They must have as their first weapon of war, and their first tool of defense the knowledge that they are loved, NO MATTER WHAT! Drug user, fast driver, slow student, gay/lesbian, alcoholic....tell me. Which reason is sufficient for you? Which sin is sufficient? Which disease is so unsightly as to make you turn away? Cancer? Many, many do you know. Withdrawal is a terrible reality for the person called upon this journey. And, it doesn't become less tragic with age. Infidelity and loss of affection are often given as reasons for withdrawal. It just seems so justified, doesn't it? "I have a perfectly good reason!" Sure, you do. Sure, I do. Sure, we do. Is it sufficient to overcome the bottomless pit of sadness that makes our steps heavy so long after our "reason" has resulted in a pain we cannot bear? Look, I'm talking to you because I know this pain. I have seen the results of this tragedy in my own life, in my own living. Now, as we walk along this journey, the pain is still just as fresh and still just as real as it was on March 4th, 1967. Can you not find any way to tell those who matter the most in your world that, no matter what, you love them? Will you? Please? Please? Christ found a way. He was Dad's way. If it was good enough for Him, can't you find some way to make it good enough for you? It matters just so very much. And, that's the moral of Anne's story. It matters much. Happy Birthday, Anne. I love you. No Matter What! In His Care, Budroe |
| And, I bet you thought it would never get here. HA! Oh, ye of little faith! This is a time of recovery for most folks. The Holiday festivities are winding down. Inside and out, the decorations are being carefully and lovingly placed back into their locations of safety until next year. The presents have all be opened, and the wrapping paper is by the curb--perhaps even with the tree. The lights have been carefully wound and checked. The cards have been carefully set aside, and put away. The trappings of the season have been removed, and things are back to "normal". These are all indications that the task at-hand are complete. We sigh with satisfaction, as we feel proud for the accomplishments of the season. Of course, some of us realize the only really significant accomplishment has been to survive the chaos of the season. This is a bittersweet time. What has been, has been. What lies ahead? What will be our future? How will we respond to the challenges the days, weeks, and months ahead? Even as we feel grateful for the year nearly completed, there does lie within us a small nugget of stark terror as we consider the unknown that lies ahead. In the next days, weeks, and months, there are many new experiences that I must endure. I have felt as if the time from the hospitalization to being home has been a time of recovery for me as well. As the days have progressed, the calendar has been flipping with increasing rapidity towards January 3rd, 2007. I bought myself that much time to be "away" from the illness as much as possible. Now, it draws ever nearer, and my mind is more aware of this truth with each breath. I have hopes and dreams of my own for 2007. But, more than mine, I do sincerely hope that this coming year brings you wellness, safety, and happiness. The memories will linger, and the decorations will store. Live every day as if it is Christmas, and it will surely be upon us again soon enough. In His Care, Budroe P.S. A very special "Thank You" today goes out to: shleprock for the design of my very special "Saving Grace" sig, and to winter who gifted it to me. It has found a wonderful place at the front of this Blog. When I first loaded it, I thought it was amazing. It looked like Dad was literally pulling my picture up. I like it, and it stays! windac, Editor of this week's Spiritual Newsletter for highlighting this little Blog as an Editor's Choice Award. Thank you for your continued support, friendship, encouragement, and support. Kenzie   for the amazing work, especially in light of illness, to create the outside opportunities for interaction in this blog. From getting the site up on search engines and web directories to enticing newspapers and magazine to seek out opportunities to interview the writer for significant article inclusion, Kenzie has been, and I hope will continue to be, a strong friend among many strong friends of this little Blog. Thank you.Budroe |
| Today, for reasons that I do not yet know, was the day. Because of some rather peculiar circumstances, I was left with the nefarious task of informing some of the most significant people in my world "The News". By EMail. There is only one significant person left to inform, family-wise. I still have not informed several friends and acquaintences as yet. I do believe that no thing happens for no reason, which is to say that I do not believe so much in serendipity, or chance, or coincidence. I felt it important to tell these folks, because they are so important to my life. However, some others I have not yet told. There are thousands of reasons for this, and believe me when I tell you that I have had them every one travel through my brain cells recently. The idea that someone I care for would discover this news alarms me. There are things in our lives that we find difficult, if not impossible to share. The reasons are many, but the result is inevitably the same. I cannot spread this happy news easily, or readily it seems. It is funny that, were Dad to suddenly decide that there had been some gigantic mix-up in the Planning Department, and I suddenly was delivered from this journey, I would hurry to tell everyone I have ever known! Oh, how I wish that were on today's menu. But, it is not--at least so far as I have been informed. I am completely aware that this is my task. I am not prepared for it, and I tend not to do it well. Amazing, isn't it? I mean, considering my history, one might think this not so difficult a task at all. But, it IS me we are talking about, not someone else. Alone with these fears for so long, I have not yet overcome the guilt I feel about creating sadness in someone else's world. I'm just not built for that. And, to these particular people, it is most difficult. It is difficult because I know what their reactions, their feelings, and their reality will inevitably be. I suppose you could say I'm a chicken, and that's just fine. There is an element of truth in that. But, it is not universally true. Telling the truth, with tact, is something that we here deal with each and every day--especially when offering a Review and/or Critique of another writer's work. You would think that, by this late point, I would have gotten it down when it really matters. But, you see, that is precisely the problem. It does matter so very much. And, to these people, I would have genuinely preferred to speak this truth face-to-face. EMail is, by these standards, the lowest possible standard, substitute-wise. However, there is a blessing in it. The words can be re-read, and perhaps better understood. At least, I do certainly hope so. The writing, and re-writing has been an effort more difficult than the first successful Query letter. How do you tell it? What do you say, or not say? How can you make it even a little more gentle? How do you help them accept this news? It makes no difference whatsoever that a lifetime of relationship is your ally. There is little comfort in the knowledge that these people have the inherent right to react, and respond in their own time, and in their own way! This is a major hurdle for me on the journey. It has torn my heart to shreds. I just plain hate it! And, right now, I really hate myself and this stupid disease with a passion that I have not previously felt. The first EMail was to my dearest friend in the world. As much as I resist saying it, this person is the number one person on my lifetime list. The second EMail was to my Cousin, who has been my life-long Champion! She is, in a very special way, a most important person in my life. I have many beloved cousins, and they each have great value and treasure in my world. This one is currently helping her Mother deal with many difficult end-of-life issues as she deals with Cancer, Heart Disease, Leukemia, and more other problems than any human should endure. Now this. I'm feeling like a total worm at the moment. Will it pass? It is most assuredly a bell that cannot be "un-rung". How do I get over this, and finish the task? And, how do I do so in a manner that makes Dad proud? Why is the need to seek their forgiveness so huge on my Radar? Do I have no faith in what I mean to them? Well, I just don't know. I have spent a lifetime telling people about things "taking time". I have said it, preached it, taught it, and believed it. I know it to be true. But, this is a part of the journey that is truly isolatingly lonely. I have eternal faith in their love for me. I know that, once the news "soaks" in, they will still be there for me. I know this, but at this moment, the only thing I can think of is their sadness, and their pain. I don't know how to fix it, and it just makes me insanely stupid crazy nuts! It is distressing, lonely, depressing, and just plain HARD! In the end, I voted for truth--again. I wish I would make other choices, sometimes. Truth sux sometimes. This is not like a major news flash to me. But, in this moment, in this way, it is a truth like I have never known before. I trust my Dad. I trust these people, too. I know it will be alright. I am, without the first doubt, leaning very hard on that trust right now. But, it is a process that must be first accomplished! If you are ever called upon this journey, I suggest--again--that you have at least the outline of a plan in mind for dealing with this ugly reality. I urge you to consider what, how, and when you will tell those who mean the most to you who may not be within reach. And, for those of you who have received, or will receive such news, I urge you to consider not only the person giving it, but this reality for them as well. Discuss it, and share as much as you can with them. Tell them how you feel, and try to tell them that you still love them just as much. It may take a while for this process to complete, but make it a priority. We, in the club, stand on fragile ground with feet of clay at such times as this. I do not know of a time when I have felt more vulnerable, weak, or worthless. I am helpless, it seems, to feel otherwise. I believe, with all that is in me, that knowledge is the key to the power that truly matters. I have never been shy about knowledge that is difficult to accept, process, absorb, and respond to. So, why now? And, if this is the beginning of the "Anger" phase, Lord help me. Somebody better be roundin' up th' chilluns and small fur-bearing creatures. One of my Sisters waited way too long to tell anyone. I am of the personal belief that she knew she was very sick long before we were told. You just KNOW when something is wrong. Of course, in my family, the statement was always, "Wouldn't it be something if all you had to do was take a pill to be all better? Why not get it checked out, and see?" I should have known this was coming. Last night, a friend called me and, incidentally, spoke of a cough she has had for almost six weeks. I suddenly got terrified, and responded very poorly. I kinda ground her butt for not getting it checked out immediately. The first time she was generous about it. The second time, she got as angry as she had every right to be. I don't think I over-reacted at all, but I do understand why she would believe and feel as if I had. In the reality of life, I got scared spitless in a flash. I didn't jump to conclusions, friend. I was immediately on the other side of them, and my mind began playing a film directly out of a Hospital ICU from not so long ago. In truth, I don't want anyone to have that experience--ever! It surprised me, upon later reflection, to realize that this had, in fact, happened. My usual stoic and calm self just plain old lost it. Immediately, I felt fear and dread--because she has a cough. I think I'm gettin' a little gun-shy. I apologized to her today--IN AN EMAIL!--and I hope she accepts my apology for what I intended it to be. Then things just naturally seemed to flow, and the other EMails were created and sent. Well, why not? This is a part of the journey that makes me wish so badly that I had someone close by, for just a minute. I feel the overwhelming need to shake for a minute, and curl up in a fetal position and cry! I will get over it. It's been a long time coming. The new year is rocketing my way, and there is a ton of stuff that is going to, very quickly, need to be reckoned with. I've had the "free space", and it fast approaches the time to put on the Armor and get onto the battlefield. The only difference for me in this battle is much like the story of the Hen and the Pig. Oh, I didn't tell you that one yet? It seems that this Hen and Pig are out in the farmyard early one morning. They happened under the kitchen window of the farmer, as he and his wife were having a discussion. "What do you want for breakfast, Ole Man?" "Oh, woman, I guess just eggs and bacon will do me just fine." The hen cackles gently, and all of a sudden the Pig is acting like he has been possessed! "What in the world is the matter for you, Mr. Pig? My goodness, they were only talking about breakfast!! What's the big deal?" "For you," the Pig sad with tears in his eyes, "it is only participation. For me, it is commitment!" I must tell you honestly. I have never so understood pigs like I do today. I KNOW that, even now, Dad has it. I KNOW it will be okay. I wish I could be calm, and rational, and reasonable right now--perhaps more than ever. But (and at the risk of knocking myself down from a pedestal I never volunteered for), I just plainly am not. I gottem belly buckon, too. This is definitey bigger than I am, at the moment. I know it is not bigger than me, and Dad, and all of us together--I promise I really do. But, right now, just for the moment, it is one of those times, and one of those things, that is just hard. And, for me, it's just too hard. I'll get over it. I know there are lots more where this one comes from. They will make this one look like a cake-walk. I've seen the process too many times to truly think otherwise. It will be okay. I just have to fully experience this moment first, I think. And, being honest, I do truly hate the idea. At the risk of being frightening to you, I now understand why my Father has been on my mind the last couple of days. I think he had to remind me that I actually DO have a bit of strength to do the hard things, and do them well. I sure hope he was correct. Only time will tell; I just hope so. This would be just a completely terrible time to goof! Imagine, opting for pancakes five minutes after you slaughter the pig! Now, wouldn't that just put a kink in yer tail!! In His Care, Budroe |
| Around the world, today is Boxing Day. I, like 99% of the rest of humanity, have no idea whatsoever how this Holiday came to be. There are traditions, based upon stories, that are as scattered as dandelion petals in a stiff breeze. But, traditions can do that to you. Traditions are instinctively powerful tools that not only give us a sense of satisfied accomplishment when remembered. They also give us a sense of our place in history. Some things you just "do" because it is the right thing to do. In America, today is the most dreaded day of the year in the retail industry. Having worked several of them, I can tell you that I am 100% certain I was never created to work in retail. Gift exchanges and returns will have sullied the spirits of even the most undaunted retail clerk. You all have my sincerest sympathies. Yet, if you are reading this, you have either been permanently relieved of your positions, or you have survived--or found the only path to your survival led directly through termination at work. Believe me, it's worth it! But, one of the greatest payoffs for surviving this day in the retail world is listening to the comments of the people waiting in line at the Customer Service counter about the gifts they are returning. I hope you have a memory from today's encounter with marketing! At "Chateau de Budroe", however, today is calm, and quiet. On this date, in 1913, my father was born. Were he still alive today, he would be celebrating his 93rd completed year of life. It was his Mother, my paternal Grandmother, who lived for over 107 years. She was one of two persons I called "Nanny". I hope, during this journey, to introduce many of the stories of her which have lighted my life. My father was the only child of the final marriage of "Nanny", yet he was her 21st child. Imagine the joy of an eight year-old to learn that his task is to memorize all the names of his Aunts and Uncles! I did, and I can still name them all (replete with Spouses, and children). Tradition. It carries us forward from where we were, to where we will be. Sometimes, that's important. My father was, among other things, a Carpenter. He had an amazing ability to look at a photograph of a piece of furniture, and go immediately and make it. He was a specialist in not only the style, but the traditional processes of the American Shaker furniture tradition. There are many beautiful pieces which he created that I hope someday to see again. From my earliest recollections, my Father had a woodshop. Early on, it was in the rear of Nanny's house (just up the street from my own family home). Later on, and until he died it would be in the basement of his home. My Father was a traveller. There are many momentos from world travels which have brought memories of people, places, and significant world events into my living. I, too, have enjoyed travelling. Tradition. Is it genetic? My father was a good man. He helped many, many people in his life. Yet, he was a distant man, as well. He really rather found children to be a bit of a social inconvenience. It wasn't that he didn't love his children, because I believe he truly did. He was confused by them, and felt they should keep their place. He just never really knew where their place was. He was not much of a Dad. But, one of the things I can say about my Father is still true in my life today. He knew the importance of speaking love. While he and my Mother were divorced shortly after my birth, there was never any doubt on my part that my Father loved me. After my Mother died, it was decided that I would return to his home and live with him and my step-mother. Nobody asked me about it. Tradition. It must be a powerful law, somewhere. It did not last long, and it did not go well on the whole. But, never a night went by but that I did not tell my Father that I loved him. It was a ritual (a tradition?) that repeated before each and every bedtime. I never in my life knew my Father to retire before everyone else in the house was asleep. He kept watch. I remember always feeling safe going to bed, because my Father was still awake. "I love you, Daddy." "I love my boy!" Of course, I always believed that I was somewhat cursed, as my birthday is December 31st. The only example which ever kept me from being a total idiot about it was my Father. How in the world do you deal with having a birthday on December 26th? In my Father's case, it was liberal application of advance notice. He would begin around Thanksgiving Dinner. I remember coming home from College once for this special November treat. I walked in the front door of his home, and walked into the living room where my Father would inevitably be sitting in "his" chair, wearing a smoking jacket. To accurately describe my Father, physically, is really quite easy. Just imagine a 6'4", 245 pound, totally buffed Walter Matheau. They could easily have been identical twins (and even had the chance to prove it once--I have a picture of them together--it is eery!), but for the difference in their physique. Of course, it is also true that I, of all his children, most closely resemble my Father. I look nothing like Walter Matheau! Yet, most people at home instantly recognize me. They do not recognize ME, they seem to think they see my Father walking down the street. It can be embarassing! It happens all the time. It happened this past September, when I was called home for a funeral of a Nephew. One of my Father's life-long friends was at the funeral. She came up to me after the Service, and introduced herself as if I would not know her. I knew her from the first moment I saw her. She, and her husband, had been invited to our home to share Thanksgiving Dinner that day I walked into the living room. My Father drank Bourbon Highballs. She drank a Whiskey Sour. I always wondered why you would take something as badly-tasting as Whiskey, and purposely make it taste worse! Between the living room, and the dining room, over the archway, was a carefully yet professionally created banner which read: "Remember December 26th, and keep it Holy!" My Father loved practical jokes. (That is the ONLY warning!) Actually, what my Father loved was the sound of laughter. He did it better than anyone I know, and it became a life-long goal to hear him laugh. He was a very funny man, who loved to hear others laugh. He had no ambitions to become an "entertainer", per se. He just saw Heaven when he could get someone else--regardless of their circumstance--to laugh. He worked at it full-time, and became quite the master of this interesting enterprise. I have been told, by many of his "victims", that I am the only person they ever knew who could make my Father laugh as hard as he could get someone else to laugh. I did love hearing my Father laugh. He was readily self-depricating, and would often find himself incapable of finishing a story on himself. He would always begin laughing (the best ones, anyway) in his shoulders. You could see him laugh before you heard him laugh. It would just travel throughout his entire body, and tears would flow. It was that laughter that would create the answer to a life-long question: "If you could write your auto-biography, what would the title be?" My answer was always, always, "The Day The Clown Cried!" I only saw my Father cry a very few times. I saw him cry as he buried each of his children. It was heartfelt, and deep from within him in a place I saw no other time--save one. Probably, the one trait that I believe all of his children appreciated to the fullest was my Father's strength. There was no situation, occurrance, or moment that my Father could not handle. He was an absolute ROCK, and we all had opportunity to park our grief upon it. His strength got our family through some of the most terrible times a human can experience. I do sorely wish I had that trait. I will honestly admit to you that I wish I had that rock to lean on these days, too. But, I also remember that the rock of strength was well-worn. I even saw it crack--once. I saw my Father come completely undone when my Mother died. He was wracked with inconsolable grief. Even as a youngster, I knew that my Father would never cry for another person the way he cried for my Mother. And, those moments defined my Father for me. Those moments also defined my position in my Father's world, too. He could not be comforted those days. He never cried for the loss of his own Mother. He was a legitimate warrior, and felt no shame in crying. But, the day my Mother died, my Father became completely human in a way that I never saw again. I truly believe that my Father died that day. I know he was never the same after that. It just took him 24 years for his body to give out. Remembering my Father's laughter helps me. I'm grateful that I can, because it helps to keep me centered. For one who gave so much of himself to laughter--and most especially, the laughter of others--who could doubt his ability to cry the same way? Every invective against such blasphemy as that banner created was a twinkle in my Father's eye. People amazed him. And nothing amazed him more than the way people could laugh. I believe that is something that my Father and I share, even today. I know where it comes from, finally. Nothing amazes me more than the ability that people have to purposely hurt one another. There is balance in the universe. Tradition. Tempus fugit. And, there is a sense of order in balance. My Father chose to overcome the pain of others by a purposeful intention to make them laugh. He saw their pain. He never dis-respected the pain of others. He would just make it his personal mission to equalize it with humor. We spent out lives doing the same thing, basically. We have just done it in different ways. I believe that sadness and pain terrified my Father. He felt completely impotent around it. He certainly had sufficient exercise, under his own roof, to prove that to me. He would talk to me, during the quiet times, of "other" stories that never made it into his public displays. We talked for countless hours about the pain and suffering of others. It was always personal with my Father. I believe that is one reason why my Father constantly challenged each of his children with one statement: "It's not enough to have an opinion about a wrong in this world. What are you going to DO about it?" He found himself incapable of touching genuine grief. He did not want that same punishment for his children. I always knew that my Father loved me, genuinely. I also know, even now, that my Father never accepted me in this life. Ours was a difficult, and mostly ineffective relationship. I reminded him of too many sadnesses. He determined to "break me" to his will. I determined he never would. I won. Tradition. "Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you!" And, off in the distance, I can smell "Old Spice", and a Zippo lighter as he lit his cigarette. I can see him looking me in the face, with a smile. "I love my Boy!" It was always a nice hope, and a child's vivid dream, to have a Daddy. I just happened to get a Father. I never became one, but I did have the honor and privilege of becoming a Step-Dad. I think I know why. I would never want to have a child who felt the way I did around the life of my Father. I have many of my Father's traits. I think very much as he did, and whether I like it or not, or admit it, there is very much of my Father in me. That's not all bad. It's just not good enough to choose. I meant it when I told him that I loved him. I loved calling him Daddy. I kept waiting for him to be one. He just couldn't. But, he did try. And, sometimes, the attempt is the honor. Tradition. It's comfortable, at times. Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you. In His Care, Budroe |
| This Christmas evening, I have been reflecting. There is nothing especially new in all of that, actually. It seems like an annual tradition, to be perfectly honest about it. I always wonder why it is that we can't make every day Christmas. I wrote about that in another blog today, trying to get the thought out of my head. There are other thoughts taking up space in my brain today. In response to an earlier entry, and several requests from those who stop by this little blog, I thought I would tie up a couple of loose ends, if that is alright. I have received questions about the quote which starts my blog. It was also the genesis point of an entry I made a few days ago, about belonging to the club. The quote comes from a writing by Michael Leunig, who is considered to be a living national treasure of Australia. I was first pointed to him several months ago by a dear friend (Hiya, Ayi!) from Australia, and he too has become a treasure along the journey. I highly recommend Leunig's work to you. He is a writer of gigantic proportions, and a cartoonist of the highest order. The quote comes from his work: The Club Suddenly, unexpectedly, you're in the club. The club you dreaded. The club you mocked. It's your turn now. You've joined the club. And then, around you, you begin to discover others who are also members of the club and you see a sweetness in them that you hadn't seen before. And you enter into a new world of telltale signs, of gentle knowing looks, little smiles of recognition and fellowship; and you begin to see what a HUGE club this is ... ... what a HUGE, OLD, STEADY, club this is. How tender and deep its wisdom; how quiet its strength; how gracious and consoling its motto, "RISUS OMNIA - INCRUMENTUS PER DEDECUS - SAPIENTIA PER DAMNUM" (Every thing is funny - Growth through humiliation and wisdom through loss) ~~Leunig~~ I truly believe this work says a lot. I am proud to have it on my Blog, and inside its covers. I hope you will rejoice with me in it. Merry Christmas! In His Care, Budroe |
"God grant you the light of Christmas which is faith- The warmth of Christmas which is love- the ALL of Christmas which is Christ." Wilda English |
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