The Rest Stop #48

Morning Friend,

According to the unwritten "code" on the Palliative Care Ward at St. Boniface General Hospital, "no-one dies alone".

Despite that fact that no person, not even a doctor can predict exactly how long a dying person has, there are definite physiological signs near the very end which are synonymous with someone's last hours.

It is at that point in time that family members who may not already be at the bedside are notified.

It is at that point that reluctant goodbyes are softly encouraged to those present who may still be in a state of denial or are perhaps yet praying for a miracle.

Such a sight of soft comforting caresses and whispered loving murmurings at the end of one's journey is at times as powerfully beautiful as a Mother's loving embrace at its' beginning.

There are occasions when family must travel from out of town or have just left the hospital for a break when this crisis stage arrives.

Or in some cases sadly where the patient has no family.

This is where the "code" comes into play and staff members take turns at the bedside until family members, or the end, arrives.

Unlike the nurses who have other patients' ongoing issues to mind, the bulk of this bedside duty was often gladly undertaken by yours truly.

I have as yet in my life experienced nothing as profoundly humbling or soulfully illuminating as this communion with the dying.

To whisper softly, "It's O.K. now....you're alright....it's O.K. to go now..." as you caress the worries out of a furrowed brow and grasp their cooling hand in a loving farewell as the Good Lord blessedly takes it into His own.

And you have MEANT those last words because it IS "O.K."....for that person's winding road of life has led them to this safe and spiritual place of earthly disembarkation where the fellow seeing them off is pretty much "A.O.K." !

What little you know of that person and their life, and whatever is going on in your life, become instantly insignificant to the poignant sharing of two heartbeats; one slow and hearty, the other weakly fluttering....until there is just one.

You don't have to experience that too many times before you develop a pretty fair appreciation for the beauty, fragility and calculably finite nature of life.

My own journey has been beset with a plethora of terrains and at times, pitfalls, but the years where my "road" was a hospital hallway accompanying those in their final mile was paved with supreme and sacred honor.

Now my friend, you're wondering "why?... on such a gorgeous summer morning Ab, are you writing about something so "bleak"???

Well it's because death is a part of life... it just happens to come at the end.

So until you get there, which you will too soon enough, I just felt like offering a friendly reminder - especially on such a fortuitously fantastic day.....to GET LIVING!

And also to say that any "problem" that life throws at you, short of a terminal illness, is just that: a problem short of a terminal illness.

And as a special Monday BONUS, I'd like to share a tribute I wrote to the "special" ( a word which doesn't nearly do them justice), people who work with the terminally ill.

At St. Boniface the ward is now located on the 8th floor but this was written at the time they transferred from the 3rd.....thus the reference to "Highway #3".

God bless them... bless you....share the blessings!

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live (compassionately)

The Rest Stop ( on Highway #3 ) by tImMy

Here did lone stars tarry between heaven and earth
Singe-winged angels found rest, redemption and safe passage
Here is where weary travelers paused between life and rebirth


Here did fretful souls strengthen thou bodies failed
No tear-soaked pillow could extinguish the fire of a lifetime
Here; the port from where valiant ships of destiny sailed


Here were last steps taken; uncertain and exquisite as the first
the intervening miles of triumph and tragedy were sustaining memories
Here the best was provided for those at their worst


The walls still echo with the passion of those who cared here
Their comforting faith rendered desperation into something somehow manageable
Here the floors are stained by those who managed all but their own tears


Here were forged fierce bonds of camaraderie, devotion and love
Many found purpose and exaltation within a phenomenal team
Days ended with the gratitude of strangers and the favor of God above


Here is where life's trivialities were treated inconsequentially
Everyone seemed to know a happier farmer on a rainy day
Here is where every easy breath was cherished exponentially


Here is where suffering became rapture and wretchedness glee
Heroes reigned on either side of a bedrail;
scientists and truckers, poets and housewives
Here is where the dying ceased, at the Rest Stop, on Highway # 3

Abraham's ( Summer) Glossary - #47

Morning Friend,

Because the beauty, the bounty and for some, the beastliness of Summer is so often indescribable, I have called upon my uniquely bent perspective and constructed a crude glossary to accomplish that very thing.

With August's arrival comes the MEAT of the summer season in this part of the world, so with none too great a measure of humility I present to you this morning, a "side of potatoes and gravy" as it were...

ABRAHAM'S ( SUMMER ) GLOSSARY

( with apologies to linguists... and the overly sensible/sensitive/sequestered)

* in no particular order

BLEEN - poor vision associated with cheap sunglasses.

NOSKEET - the speedy and seamless entry into a tent or cabin accompanied by the least number of insects possible.

PEERCHER - an obviously badly sunburned individual who continues to frolic in the sun seemingly unaware - or drunkenly indifferent- to their burgeoning blisters and imminent agony.

SKIRTION - a collision resulting from a driver's distraction by scantily clad pedestrians.

REPHALATION - the return of the male anatomy to its' normal state following cold water "shrinkage".

SHMEBS - the endless festoon of spiderwebs and caterpillar strings which strike one's face while walking in the woods.

SHWACKS - the endless branch-slaps in the face associated with walking too closely behind someone through moderate to heavy brush.

FUNGY - the way a log gets after a year or more on forest floor.

ORSINATION - the ability of dogs, cats, large rodents and even tree branches rubbing together in a dark forest at night to sound exactly like hungry bears.

SEROON - a pristine state of mind generated by the glassy surface of a lake on a windless day.

BOTTOMOBIA - fear of impending doom while in a leaky boat during bad weather.

FLEISHING - the acceptable practice of sharing untruths regarding fishing achievements.

EXFINATION - the increase in size ( usually 10% per "tell") of a fish in a fish story.

GOOSH - to start a campfire using gasoline, kerosene, or other highly flammable accelerants.

FROZID - the unfortunate and infinitely uncomfortable combination of being cold and in wet clothing simultaneously.

MOGG - irritating person ( often drunk) who incessantly and hazardly stirs and piles wood onto an already blazing campfire.

MOGG-DUNKER - one who hurls a Mogg into the nearest lake after having their hair and clothes set afire by an errant ember shower.

FARTILLA - the smell inside an enclosed tent or camper occupied by one or more imbibers of beans, legumes and/or several beer.

EXCELLENATURAMUNDO - the sound of car doors closing at the last pit stop before heading out of town for the weekend.

TOP DRAWER - expressing first class excellence such as campgrounds with hot showers and flush toilets.

CARDIOPAUSE - the momentary cessation of vital signs upon jumping into cold lake water.

DINKLING - the slow and often painstaking process of reaching thigh-depth into a cold lake.

COALITE - one extolling the oft unrecognized dietary virtues of carbon while eating a burnt-black wiener or marshmallow.

KAKITY - the smell and sound of the city after a weekend spent in the outdoors.

GOSHING - the suppression of common curses and epithets following a mishap, such as losing one's camera, watch or wallet out of a boat in deep water.

PALATADROME - the phenomenon of food tasting better cooked outdoors.

BLUELIP - the hypothermic appearance of manic but otherwise healthy children frolicking in cold lake water.

TICKORTIONISM - the self-examination of one's nether regions for wood ticks.

BUNYONIA - the exhilaration associated with splitting a log with a single blow.

BUNYACKING - the none-too precise process of removing an axe deeply imbedded in a large "green" log.

SHEWING - eating fish ( often poorly filleted), that has bones in it.

HERKEMER JERKWATER (1892-1912)- the one and only documented case of a man choking to death on a fish bone. Jerkwater, a drifter from Chicago where he was known as the "town drunk" reportedly had visited a less than reputable south side sushi bar where several witnesses described him drunkenly "inhaling" raw fish before an errant bone finally did him in.

RESERTAFICATION - the renewed appreciation for one's own bed after a weekend in a tent.

LURUSION - the misguided belief that the appetites of most fish species are enhanced by heavy rainfall.

APPETITIOUS - the smell of bacon cooking on a open fire.

FOCALBURNERS - ill fitting or ill advised styles of swimwear.

SOPHIAN - the extraordinarily wonderful way your wife or girlfriend feels ( and smells) in your arms after a weekend fishing with "the boys".

INCONTINENTAL - one running away from a bear.

URINTITIS - the non-emergent need to pee while in a sleeping bag which can wait till morning.

EUFORESTIA - the supreme sense of awe, wonder and gratefulness to God one experiences in Nature.

Enjoy the rest of the summer my friend!

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( interpreting)

Shine #46

Morning Friend,

I've been taken advantage of in recent weeks and I can't quite put into words, how wonderful it is.

No, I'm not talking about the advantage-taking that costs virtue, but rather the type that requires it.

And that would of course be, designated driving.

It is a heretofore unrealized joy to be so vigorously entrusted.

Oh I've given LOTS of people rides home in my life previously, but MANY of those times were very much hope-tinged and faith challenged.

Back then we hoped I was "still O.K. to drive" and held great faith and store in "the God who looks after drunks and small children".

I actually cringe when I think of the dozens of times I "one-eyed" it down the road foolishly flaunting a carload of friends' lives or woke up not remembering a 30 minute drive home the night before.

I must say I was never as bad as Rodney Dangerfield who, the day after a drunk had to "look for his car....and take back the car he took !"

Now, with a virtuous - or at least soberly so- Mr. Stainer running the shuttle, we all may have faith and comfort in the certainty that the night's revelry will end as perfectly as it should with everyone tucked in safely at home.

...well I don't actually do any tucking, but you get my drift.

As far as taking advantages go I'd have to call this a saw-off.

It's certainly a "win/win" for yours truly.

- I get to drive...a pure and personal pleasure.

- I don't drink anyway so I'm not sacrificing anything.

- I get to "work the room" with new jokes.

- I get regaled by the drink-inspired Wisdom of Kings.

- I get reminded of how "unwise" and "unkingly" drunks are.

- I get a small measure of redemption for past foolishness.

- I get my beloved friends home safe and sound.

- I get the good feeling associated with being on the right path with the Good Lord as my co-pilot.

It was at one of these recent functions that my own journey was lit with the memory of an old friend who lost his way on the path.

It seemed that most, if not all of the crowd remembered me for a poem I'd written for his funeral.

He was a most beloved fellow and it is a testament more to the enormity of his bittersweet legacy, than my humble words said 5 years ago which triggered so many sad smiles remembering "Johnny Shine".

Johnny was one of those individuals who actually shone; a light of enthusiastic eloquence, effervescent energy and unconstrained calamity to his world and all who were a part of its' wondrous collage.

He was a man of great excesses both good and bad, but the good far and away out-shone the bad and you would have liked him my friend.

On the road of his life however you would have to have called him a "reckless driver".

He wasn't killed in an automobile accident but he nevertheless died along his road, desperate, for a designated driver.

He was alone.

Truly and sadly.

If he'd only known then what I have since learned , I am certain that my friend Johnny Shine would have caught a ride with someone.

And knowing that keeps my co-pilot permanently in the jump seat.

And it makes being taken advantage of... like a ride home.

love tImMy:/

Johnny’s Shine by Tim Lawrence

Wait for me down at the riverbank Johnny, with crawlers whiskey and a song

Sing loudly so I can find you, but wait cause I won’t be too long

Tell me a story at the riverbank Johnny, make me laugh while you’re catching more fish

Smile like the glistening water, grin like God’s granted your wish

Catch me a fish at the riverbank Johnny, put your line true to the test

Fish till you’ve limited out, till it’s time to finally rest

Sing me a song at the riverbank Johnny, I’ll join in and sing along with you

We’ll sing about heartache and pain, about sweet love precious and true

Hold my hand down at the riverbank Johnny, I’m hurting and I need to know

Was the Winter’s too long frozen river, the reason that you had to go?

Let’s say a prayer at the riverbank Johnny, put down your rod and your pain

Let’s look to the heavens together, and pray we’ll be here once again

The sunshine rains down on the riverbank Johnny, you’ve caught now release all your woes

Your wonderful spirit is sailing dear friend, away upon God’s river flow

Wait for me down at the riverbank Johnny, I’ll join you and we’ll wet a line

There’s “honey” spots along Heaven’s river, for you and me dear Johnny Shine

For My Friend Johnny Peters

May 2004

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live (advantageously)

Making your own luck -#45

Morning Friend,

A local woman who last week won a third share of a $10 million lottery says a fortune teller predicted that very thing....30 years ago.

Isn't that amazing!?

Boy, now I know why they call them "fortune" tellers.

And skeptical old me used to think that those sideshow seers were nothing more than heartless shills who took advantage of people's superstitious naiveté and hopeful vulnerability. ( like the one who said I'd be "happily married with 4 children"!?)

Now old "Zelda" - which I'll call our prodigious prognosticator - was likely non-specific about just when the lottery would be won so 30 years is not too outrageous of a "window"; maybe for romance, but not money.

It's probably not in Zelda's best interests to reveal actual dates associated with her visions.

The titillating vagueness of her predictions keeps the "marks"...I mean CLIENTS coming back.

And I can certainly see tremendous problems associated with someone KNOWING the actual date on which they are going to be a winner.

Our winner- whom I'm calling "Esperanza"- might have spent the last 30 years lollygagging instead of faithfully working and spending her $12 a week on lottery tickets.

Indeed Esperanza might well have become a rather unsavory, lackadaisical character if she simply rolled through life KNOWING that her reward was just a few decades down the road.

Imagine the TAB she might have run up... if anyone could run one for 30 years? ( there goes your 3 mil!)

Imagine how many people she might have alienated and bridges she might have burned knowing a small fortune was just...a short half a lifetime away.

Imagine what a mindless blur the 30 years would be; holding on...and waiting.

Imagine 30 years of colorless and odorless TODAYS spent longing for the taste and essence of tomorrow's promise.

I can't imagine a jail sentence being any less debilitating to one's enjoyment of life than simply marking time till your ship comes in.

I don't imagine any sized jackpot could compensate for that many lost years.

Besides making interesting copy for the media, these warm and fuzzy stories about lottery winners and fortune tellers are a boon to lottery sales and the fortune telling industry.

This particular one got me thinking, after I stopped laughing.

I'm quite certain that Esperanza hasn't spent every Thursday, Saturday and Sunday morning of the past 30 years checking her lottery numbers and cursing Zelda's incompetence.

Like everyone else with a dream, a lucky rabbit's foot, a four leaf clover and a crystal ball's "certainty", she's been faithfully buying tickets; likely more faithful in the need to have a ticket in order to win, than the accoutrements of superstition and luck.

The approximately $18,720 ( not counting Casino visits), which she's spent in the last 30 years is certainly "chump change" now that she's won $3.3 million, but she earned it along the way, working, living her life and hoping... for the Big One.

Well "good for you Ezzie!" I say, and "good for Zelda" also, who will likely be booked solid for a long time, ( unless the poor dear saw her own demise in the same imminent vision as Esperanza's windfall?)

For many folks, the Ultimate Lottery Grand Prize awaits with the Good Lord in Heaven.

No fortune teller of any prowess can predict the winning names or dates of this multiple-winner-lotto.

It's drawn at any and every second of every day.

Winners come from all walks of life; all stations and situations.

You can get a ticket everywhere you find someone in need of helping hand or a kind word.

The smile, the grateful handshake, and the warm feeling are advanced subsidiary prizes.

While "luck" doesn't enter into this contest, I count myself blessedly fortuitous in recent years to have discovered the strength, humility and serenity needed to tip the odds in my favor.

Remember my friend the bottom line of lotteries the world over....you can't win, if you don't have a ticket.

In the meantime, if a fortune teller sees romance in your "future"....ask her if she can narrow it down a bit.

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live (fortunately)

Is is just me? #44

Morning Friend,

There's nothing really at all that I consider myself an "expert" at ( disregarding "drinking myself stupid" ).

But like anyone else who's lived a goodly number of years I am "experienced" at a great many things.

I once mistakenly, and quite foolishly followed some friends down an "expert" ski run at Banff one year; they skied...I tumbled, so I can attest to the sometimes painful knowledge that some things are best left to experts.

Like anyone though with a few decades of experience under their belt, ( or someone after a few too many belts), I have no shortage of opinions.

I believe it's been said opinions are like noses....everyone has one. ( It's actually not "noses" but some other singular bit of human anatomy which more effectively colors the saying but which I needn't highlight for today's purposes).

If you've read more than a few of these than you already know where I stand on a number of issues - I have quite a few "noses" essentially.

I come by them quite honestly being raised by intelligent and highly opinionated parents in a 7 children home where intellectual opinion, frank discussion and borderline-chaotic verbal exchange was never in short supply, and was in fact fostered.

Having parents who are polar opposites on many sociological and political issues, but have still stayed married for 51 years, has taught me much about respecting the opinions of others, admitting when you're wrong, agreeing to disagree....and not going to bed mad.

I have learned that unless you're alone on a island, it's best to keep one's ears and mind open, as well as one's mouth while opining.

You and I might have differing opinions on certain subjects my friend, but through calm and respectful discourse, or a heated and grudgingly tolerant debate, we can often both learn how dead-on right, or terribly wrong-headed both of us are.

With that in mind, I present an olio of experience-based and NOT expert opinions for a lovely Monday's mulling entitled, IS IT JUST ME.....

...or wasn't last Wednesday the "point of no return" for the changes needed to avert the Global Warming Catastrophe?....or is it THIS Wednesday?....or was that the ICE AGE?

...or do the oil companies think they are "fooling" anyone during the annual summer GOUGE?

...or is it a coincidence that successful athletes don't drink or smoke?

...or is any sight more insulting to the feminine form than an overweight woman in spandex?...WHO is telling them they look "hot"?

...or shouldn't the men's Speedo be outlawed...forever?

...or isn't it about time that we realize our present-day "justice" system doesn't work, and go to a tried and true method like public flogging?

...shouldn't store bought "tomatoes" be given another name, since they don't smell or taste remotely like the real thing?...how about "air-atoes"?

...or are young women's fashions mindful of many classic literary and film characterizations of prostitutes?

...or isn't it time to put God back in our schools?...Who hasn't yet made the connection between youth crime and Spiritual deficiency?

...or shouldn't we be allowed to administer one firm but thoughtful "cuff to the back of the head" of people who have attained a level of ignominiousness so deplete of basic intellect as to render them ignorant of their own stupidity?...like most drivers?

...or shouldn't the word "promise" be banished from political jargon, or have we become collectively content to be governed by liars?

...or has the human imagination run dry and all the "good" ideas for movies been used up?

...or have cell phones and texting taken the anticipatory wonderment and romantic mystery out of courtship and relationships?

...or is it not a crying shame given today's technologically advanced and globally conscious world, that millions of people suffer and die each year from HUNGER when there's plenty of food to go around?

...or do not enough people "smell the roses" until it's too late?

I think that about covers the "top of my head" this morning.

I of course welcome any and all rebuttal...especially from experts!

...and I promise not to go to bed mad.

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( off the fence )

Pomodoro Papa - #43

Morning Friend,

In an effort to fill the void of parenthood that I've unfortunately let pass me by, I've taken to raising tomatoes in a make-shift garden on the rooftop of my apartment.

I can actually feel the breeze created by your, and a hundred other eyebrows raising at the notion of my comparing child raising to tomato growing, but bear with me.

Granted it is no small stretch of reality and imagination, but that's what we do here.

And of course I'm not talking about the entire parental void, from pre-natal to graduation, rife with uniquely human folly and happenstance that no botanical lifespan can match.

My tomato "children" arrived well out of diapers, colic and the assortment of diseases and ailments that plague a child, and parent's early years, at about "pre-school" age you could say.

You could also say that these "adoptees" couldn't have found a better "Dad".

Or a safer home above the mean streets atop a warm and fragrant pizza restaurant drenched in all day southern exposure.

My landlord is unaware of my little "horticultural daycare" but until M.M. starts publishing in Italian, my family is safe.

Rooted as they are outdoors I never have to shoo them away from the computer and out into the fresh air, nor do I fret about them roaming the streets with gangs of unsavory peppers and wild dill, or running off in a pickup truck of farm tomatoes looking for a good time in the big city.

Their elevated position keeps them safe from garden raiders, and me from having to install "sitter-cams".

Because I like to "putter" in the garden, especially on hot and sunny days with a good book and a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic ( S.P.F. 0 ), I spend a lot of quality time with the kids.

Notice I said "putter" and not "putsky"; a word my Grandmother used in reference to unsavory and decidedly unproductive activity.

For Granny's sake, , I try not to "putsky" around if I can help it at any time and certainly not in front of the children.

They seem to enjoy the music I play in front of them, but because of the great variety of artists ( Vivaldi to Velvet Revolver), I'm not sure which might be credited for their prolific growth. It might well be the blues bands that play twice weekly beneath them?

Or the sound of traffic along the busy street below?

Or the sirens of ambulances coming and going from the hospital across the street?

Or the sound of my voice as I talk to them?

Not the face to face, sit down, heart to heart talks that made me cringe as a youngster, no not those.

I greet them warmly and make sure to always compliment and encourage them.

As with music, I'm not sure whether smoother tones work better than harsh ones, and I'm not of a mind to experiment with the impact of critical and negative influences on my plants.

We already know my friend what that does to real children.

Besides which, there's always the chance that they might decide to just not listen to me, in which case I'd be talking to myself? ( which is okay I guess if you're alone on a rooftop...or a "real" parent?)

If plants could be obese, then mine would be fodder for bullies, because I feed them religiously and prodigiously.

Fortunately they have good drainage which compensates sufficiently for my and Mother Nature's over-watering. ( Ahh that it could be as simple with some of our more gluttonous offspring!?)

* I'll share a SECRET you can use next year if you're so inclined. Place a banana peel beneath the roots when planting....young tomato plants do quite well with the potassium boost!

As for the rest of their nutritional needs, they get a nice little scoop of Miracle-Gro every few days, ( mixed with their water "on the sly" of course...it doesn't do to tell them its' "good" for them).

I do my own pruning and while it's not "professional", it's not a "bowl cut" either.

I don't know much about today's styles - as one look at me will confirm - but I do know that a well pruned plant, like a well groomed child, has better odds of being successful.

You won't find Plant and Family Services visiting me on account of my unruly children.

While it certainly hasn't been a perfect growing season, my kids are doing quite well.

There are some things which affect them that I frustratingly, have no control over.

I just do the best I can with the things I do.

Children and plants, are remarkably resilent.

I realise that with minimal or even derelict care my plants would blossom ( which they did beautifully), and eventually bear fruit ( which they have recently begun to do marvelously), but to see them actually THRIVING; at the top of their game... the Peak of the Market...as veritable valedictorian vinelings, is so intrinsically delightful and succinctly satisfying as to make anyone feel like a Proud Father!

With parenting as with gardening, you reap what you sow.

Makes me glad my parents had "green thumbs".

* I will of course enjoy eating my tomatoes as they reach maturity ( on toast with mayo mostly). Isn't that what some species do with their young?

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live (fertilely)

Getting There - #42

Morning Friend,

There's nothing quite like the warm and fuzzy feeling of encountering old friends while out for drive on the highway, especially if they're the same idiots whose incompetence at 50 kilometers an hour in the city is so dangerously enhanced by the perilous variables of greater speed and slightly trickier circumstances.

Ahh yess....that's Him! I'd recognize that slackened jaw, the pointed; almost "pin-like" head and those maniacal "HEEERRE'S JOHNNNY" - Jack in The Shining - eyes anywhere !

How comforting it is to know that statistically, for every 1% increase in road speed, there is a corresponding 3% increase in accident likeliness.

Hmmm, that's strange....I'm doing 102, ( thanks to my trusty cruise control), and he seems to be bearing up behind me pretty quickly?

That kooky nutty guy!....Not in a hurry AGAIN is he?

One would think that on a rainy Saturday morning with the wind howling and the roads slick as a duck's back, that you wouldn't see too many folks "high-balling" down a two-lane highway unless they were;

A- Law Enforcement

B- E.M.T.'s

C- Drunks

D- Fools

E- combination of A/B

F- combination of C/D

G-Grandma going to bingo

F- late for his/her wedding

My old friend who now appears to be wanting to pass me, is most certainly a "D" which poses any number of reasons why he is choosing to place his life, mine, and any number of innocents' in jeopardy.

The first, which I cannot discount, is the fact that he may well just be plain old stupid; a garden variety idiot.

I mean, "passing" on the highway in ideal conditions is a skillful maneuver requiring a more than of modicum of intellect and a good measure of common sense.

To attempt to do so during a rainstorm with fairly heavy "Cottage Country" traffic on a highway interspersed with several stretches of on-going construction is the province of only the dimmest of wit, and/or drunks.

I'll give my friend the benefit of the doubt and suggest that given the early hour of the day he is not drunk. ( or perhaps not yet anyway?)

And I'll go a step further and suggest that he is not, a narrow-minded simpleton with no regard for human life, his own included.

A good number of otherwise relatively sound-minded individuals spend however many years of highway driving (their luck and providence allows), believing that somehow every car passed on the highway is another key to the mystical time/space continuum propelling them like anti-matter forward into a realm of existence far into the future.

It's believed that if you "bend" the speed limit enough you can fool Father Time. ( if you can avoid Father R.C.)

I would suggest that this fellow honestly believes that what awaits him at the end of an hour-long journey, is going to be magically better if he can get there in 56 minutes.

Every heart-pounding, white knuckled hair-raising time he just misses piling head-long into a grain truck or a family of four in an SUV, he is shaving valuable seconds off of his accursed "speed limited" journey.

There are "things" going on "there" that he's missing out on; against which the pleasing summer sights of lush greenery, rolling farmland and ever-growing crowds of welcoming timber cannot compete.

There is certainly nothing offered by his satellite radio, CD player or the pleasant company of his companions that can come close to the 4 minutes of unbridled delight, immeasurable richness, and ecstatic fulfillment that a few close calls can garner, so long as those minutes are spent "there".

As my deluded friend, now a full and precious 2 seconds past me, pulls in just in the nick of time, the horn of the van he just missed blares as it whizzes by and I needn't be too imaginative to discern the nature of the van driver's none-too-polite exclamations of surprise and exhortations of good-will.

I on the other hand, steeped in Serenity as I am of late, am just happy to see the poor fool's taillights and simply pray, for either his car to break down....or a single, vehicle accident with one, fatality.

I know that's a bit harsh my friend, but the unfairness of life being what it is, these Ultra-Maroons end up taking innocent lives with them and if there's a more appropriate use of the word "needlessly" than I'm not familiar with it.

Life is a journey of journeys...trips between adventures....a voyage of living.

The ride between here and there is the perfect opportunity for orientation, introspection, and contemplation.

What's the point of racing from here to there if you die along the way?

Accident rates rise exponentially with speed, so if everyone sped, no-one would get anywhere.

Half the fun is getting there, the other half is getting there alive...slow down and enjoy it!

We pass through God's lovely garden but once and to not savor its' essence, cherish its' beauty, seize and embrace it with slow and exquisite passion is shameful, and in some cases, dangerous.

If you're late for your wedding, it's both.

For you, ( and Grandma) they'll clear the highway.

Love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( between the ditches)

Waiting For Dad - #41

Waiting For Dad

T’was a day of chance and circumstance

that I miss-stepped my bounds

Not a felony really

but my Mother’s ire resounds

“Wait till your Father gets home!”

those ominous words I heard

Not quite a “gallows-cry” you see

but one which frays young nerves

The memory of past miss-deeds

punctuated Mom’s refrain

And set my hide a tingling

as I awaited corporal pain

It couldn’t have been too serious

and seldom a repeat offense

You “wait for your Father...” enough times

you eventually learn some sense

It wasn’t so much the spanking

Dad’s were measured and deserved

That dreading fearful waiting

should have counted as “time served”

And Good Old Dad was punctual

no doubts or shades of grey

A digression in early morning

meant a VERY long waiting day

But waiting served me two-fold

as these memories I embrace

ONE – to see my error of my ways

and TWO – to prepare my case

If a tanning was necessitated

by my oft-reluctant Judge

it was tempered with hugs thereafter

cause he never held a grudge

My goodly share of justice,

the odd merciful reprieve,

and the accompanying lessons

made me a better man I believe

I pity the Fatherless families

Sail-less ships upon the sea

no waiting for God’s Light to come home

no “Hey Dad, look at me!”

My heart goes out to children

Soldier/Fathers far away

waiting for their brave strong Dads

to come on home to stay

I pray for Fathers absent

that they return from whence they roam

God comfort the child who longs to hear

“Wait till your Father gets home.”

There are consequences in life

This is one thing I do understand

You won’t learn about them in books

as from a Father’s firm loving hands

Cherish your Father dearly my friend

even now that you’re too old to flay

make every moment special

like you’ve been waiting for him all the day

Thanks Pop!

Happy Father's Day to Good Father's, everywhere :)

love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe....

Love as long as you live ( behaving )

You Can't Go Back - #40

Morning Friend,

"I hope I die before I get old."

Pete Townshend

( "My Generation" - 1965)

There are permanent holes in my heart today which, like missing teeth, are daily reminders of the consequences of a selfish and recklessly unhealthy lifestyle.

And it's all Pete Townshend's fault because I thought for sure - or at least "hoped"- I'd be dead well before I developed any sense of sober, mature conscience, let alone my teeth falling out.

Alas, I live.

And while I'm not quite yet doddering and drooling; at least not publicly, I have reached an age and a state of mind where the follies of my youth, the price of my insolence, the seeds of my insurrection, and the proverbial "unpaid fiddler" have all taken a seat at the table.

I have taken a few "hits" to be sure but all in all I'm pretty lucky to be as healthy as I am, to have salvaged as many friends and loved ones as I've managed, and to have as many teeth left as I do.

Despite having a dental plan at work, I used to see a dentist every few years and flossed, even less.

When you're not going to live to be "old", who needs teeth right?

Despite having been in a few lengthy relationships with some extremely loving and remarkably special and caring young ladies, I chose a self-centered life of hard drinking over a heart-felt bond of shared commitment.

When you're going to "die young", what are a few broken hearts along the short way?

This is exactly the kind of thinking which inspires the booze or drug addled mind and explains - to me at least - some of the reasons behind a lot of my past self-destructive behavior.

When one's focus is completely on the beer in hand, what matter are tomorrows, next weeks or next years?

Who the heck cares?

If I'm to die "soon" anyway, what need have I for bridges linking me to a past I've forgotten or a future I've forsaken?

Well, lets be thankful for a moment, that for today at least I've got something like a "handle" on that stupid thinking, and while I'm at it, offer a word of apology to Mr. Townshend.

I love and respect the man's work and I'm not going to pawn off my own foolishness on some of his lyrics which I believe are a celebration of youthful exuberance and not a drunken battle-cry.

Heck, I did most of my drinking in my "not to be trusted over 30's" anyway!

I think it prudent to note another quote from that Maniacal Windmilling Guitar-smith; one decidedly more apropos to my history....

"THERE IS NO FORCE IN NATURE, AS POWERFUL OR AS CONSISTENT AS A HUMAN BEING IN PURSUIT OF HELL."

Now that sounds like me! Though I would humbly amend it to reflect my present-day outlook on facing and conquering life's challenges thusly....

"THE HUMAN WILL, WITH GOD'S GRACE, IS UNSTOPPABLE."

But getting back to lost love and teeth....

The price of not dying before I got old is having to face the sometimes harsh reality that I cannot undo the past.

I can no more un-break a heart as I can grow new teeth.

I can apologize, I can make amends, I can show remorse through living a good life free of the bonds of addiction which poisoned the love others had for me, and I can give freely of myself in repentance for all the years of taking.

But I must be very careful to realize that while all this helps make today a little more sweeter, and the memories of yesterday a little more tolerable, for me, I am still the author of those dark chapters; the shatterer of dreams, the breaker of promises, the bringer of tears...a man of fewer teeth.

I'd just recently got hold of the Email address of an ex-girlfriend's mother who had been quite supportive of the relationship and with whom I recall sharing something of a friendship.

Without coming right out and asking how I could contact Sherry, I thought a few light words of "hello" and how "well" I'm doing might open the door to finding her.

The response I got was brief.

"PLEASE DELETE _______FROM YOUR ADDRESS BOOK"

I must say those cold, impersonal words were a far cry from what I'd hoped for.

A year or two ago they might even have induced a tear or two from a younger and less resilient Abraham Stainer! ( I will admit to small measure of "mist" though ).

I don't allow for tears in my life these days.

Lord knows I've caused a riverfull and shed enough to overflow the banks in self-pity.

I temper each joyous day with the hope that the Good Lord brings more peace and happiness to those I've hurt than I could ever have managed on my best day, and that they might possibly find a measure of comfort in knowing that their pain now dwells in the emptiness of my stout and vigilent heart, fueling my unstoppable resolve.

The truth my friend is that no matter how noble your intentions; how self-effacing, humble, sincere and contrite you are....you just can't go back.

It's not unlike when the dentist says, "Sorry, but that tooth has to come out".

Love tImMy:/

Laugh as much as you breathe...

Love as long as you live ( plaque-free)