Poem - "La Lucha"

(Lucha is a fight, wrestle and/or struggle) I hope you enjoy it.

"La Lucha"

Dark mists swirling;
Fiery darts hurling;
Obfuscate; Denigrate;
Exacerbate; Suffocate.

Confusion reigns;
Will strains;
Strength drains;
Hope wanes.

Just give in,
Let darkness win.
Why fight? Let go!
Who cares? No... NO!

A rod, and the light;
Continue to fight.
Never, Never give in!
Hold on! YOU CAN WIN!

- JFM

It's Monday - Smile!

I've been looking through some of my files and stumbled across this little gem. I hope that it'll make you smile:

GREAT TRUTHS ABOUT LIFE LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE LEARNED:

1) No matter how hard you try, you can't baptize cats.
2) When your Mom is mad at your Dad, don't let her brush your hair.
3) If your sister hits you, don't hit her back. They always catch the second person.
4) Never ask your 3-year old brother to hold a tomato.
5) You can't trust dogs to watch your food.
6) Don't sneeze when someone is cutting your hair.
7) Never hold a Dust-Buster and a cat at the same time.
8) You can't hide a piece of broccoli in a glass of milk.
9) Don't wear polka-dot underwear under white shorts.
10) The best place to be when you're sad is Grandpa's lap.

GREAT TRUTHS ABOUT LIFE THAT ADULTS HAVE LEARNED:

1) Raising teenagers is like nailing Jell-O to a tree.
2) Wrinkles don't hurt.
3) Families are like fudge . . . mostly sweet, with a few nuts.
4) Today's mighty oak is just yesterday's nut that held its ground.
5) Laughing is good exercise. It's like jogging on the inside.
6) Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber, not the joy.

GREAT TRUTHS ABOUT GROWING OLD:

1) Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.
2) Forget the health food. I need all the preservatives I can get.
3) When you fall down, you wonder what else you can do while you're down there. (Oh, so true, but not so hilarious the last few months)
4) You're getting old when you get the same sensation from a rockingchair that you once got from a roller coaster.
5) It's frustrating when you know all the answers, but nobody bothers to ask you the questions.
6) Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician.
7) Wisdom can comes with age, but sometimes age comes alone.

THE FOUR STAGES OF LIFE:

1) You believe in Santa Claus.
2) You don't believe in Santa Claus.
3) You are Santa Claus.
4) You look like Santa Claus.

SUCCESS:

At age 4 success is....... not peeing in your pants.
At age 12 success is . . . having friends.
At age 16 success is . . . having a drivers license.
At age 20 success is . . . having sex.
At age 35 success is . . ..having money.
At age 50 success is . . . having money.
At age 60 success is . . . having sex.
At age 70 success is . . . having a drivers license.
At age 75 success is . ... having friends.
At age 80 success is . . . not peeing in your pants.

Health & Progress Report

Thanks for asking how I'm doing. It's really nice to feel your caring and concern. Here's how I am:

I've been home from the hospital for two months. I saw the doctor Wednesday and he seemed very pleased with my general health and progress. I'd been without my blood pressure medication since Sunday, but it was 124/76 when they hooked me up. I had some blood drawn so they could run some tests; my lungs are strong; kidneys are good; blood sugar levels rarely go above125, unless I've eaten rice, potatoes or pasta. I guess I'm OK.

I was pretty agitated with my weight, however; no, that's not true - I was mad as hell! It was virtually unchanged from when I left the hospital. I know that I've been getting smaller just by the way my clothes are fitting, how much more roomy my wheelchair is, people who see me talking about how much thinner I look, etc... so I was expecting a better result.

It was especially hard to take because I been through a series of strength tests with my physical therapist earlier that day ( to re-certify for continuing the home P.T.) and she was telling me how amazed she was by the huge improvement in all of the tests, and that she could see a big difference in my body as well. Needless to say, it was not the news I thought I'd hear.

I did go into a bit of an emotional dive, but I tried to fight it off and not let it get the best of me; still, it's been kickin' my butt. Yesterday the physical therapist asked about the doctor appointment so I told her. In her best PhD-speak lingo she basically said that I've been trading fat for muscle these last two months, and that muscle is heavier than fat. Duh!! I suppose I'm happy that somebody understands it - I'm not sure I'm buying it yet. The good thing is that I haven't crashed and burned over it. I know that I've been working hard and giving it my best. I've decided that while the scales don't lie, They can't necessarily tell the whole story, either.

I keep working at it each day. I push myself to do more. I am making wise choices about eating. I allow myself a "free choice" every so often to eat something I've been craving, without beating up on myself later over it. Believe it or not, it's helping me stay in control and satisfied with the radical changes I've made in the way I am eating and living.

All of that combines to keep me moving forward with faith & hope. I have fantastic family encouragement and support. Friends are very encouraging. The health care folks are great. I feel like I am still being watched over, cared for and protected by people from beyond this veiled existence, for which I am most grateful.

That's all for now.

Stirring the Pot

The last several days have been kind of interesting. Early last Sunday morning 8-10 shots were fired in rapid succession within about a hundred feet of our house. Wish I could say it was the first time it had happened, but then I'd be a big fat liar. So the police came, looked around, and told one of the neighbors that it was just a BB gun. Wrong! - especially since the neighbor found shell casings scattered on the ground later that morning.

The whole thing got me all riled up. I spent Sunday and Monday trying decide what, if anything, I could do about it. I finally decided to do something that I'm reasonably good at, which is to instigate, irritate and aggravate. I wrote an "Open Letter to Ogden" which I began sending out by email Wednesday morning at about 9:00. (If you feel compelled to read it, here is a link to the letter, which was posted by the local newspaper on its web page Friday morning. If you don't want to, that's ok too.)
http://www.standard.net/live/opinion/flowersanddarts/165012/

So, by 10:30 I had received two emails from the mayor, calls and emails from Police officials, and a detective had been assigned to follow-up on the 'shots fired' report. Throughout the day I heard back from the mayor again, more police & city officials, educators, friends, etc. I'll admit that I wanted to stir things up a bit, the responses have surprised me. People seem to be thinking and talking about the state of our city and what can be done, which is what I was hoping would happen. I've had dozens of calls and emails about it since Wednesday. Maybe one voice can make a difference!

I'm a Noob, I think ?!

I'm not sure what that means, but it seems to be a favorite term of my 15-year-old. I think it means I'm a rookie, which I am when it comes to blogging. This is my first attempt, so please bear with me. It has only taken me three hours to set up the page, and this is my second try at my first post. The other one vanished right in front of me - I have no clue where it went!

My plan, he said optimistically, will be to write about things that don't normally come up as part of our daily routine. I want my family, friends and any other interested parties to know more about how I feel about stuff. I think that maybe I spend most of my time acting and talking like a dad and a grandpa without letting them know me, the person. I want them to know what I'm thinking (About now I can see Roz shaking her head in horror and disbelief as she considers the possibilities of where this fiasco will lead!). I am not sure how important that is, but many times I think about my parents and grandparents and wonder what they were really like.

I know things about my parents, but mostly the things that they wanted me to know. Some of the more every-day feelings only slipped out when their guards were down. I often wonder what they thought about while their minds were out skipping through the pa-pa patch. Being the youngest child of the youngest child, my grandparents were way old by the time I arrived on the scene. I don't know anything about them beyond what one might read in an obituary. So, at the tender age of 54, I am making my first serious attempt at a journal, of sorts. (Yeah, I know that I should have been doing it all along, but it joins my lengthy list of "Should Have But Didn't"!)



I must sleep now. Stay tuned...