Rear view mirrors.....

 Fourteen years ago I could see colors, but they were all drab, bland.  To eye doc.  Fitty-four years, had never been to eye doc.  Looked at me for what seemed like 30 minutes without a single word.  Finally, "how old are you?".. Fitty-four.  "You have cataracts in both eyes."

Surgery.  Intraocular lens (I think they call it.)  Artificial lens's, where one eyeball sees close up very well, the other, sees long distance nicely.  A miracle. Threw away 12 pair of readers (one in every rooom of the house, the car, work, yada).  If there was any negative, the close and far thing played hell on trying to catch a softball, but size 10 type was cinchy.

To lovely DMV to renew. All the necessary ppwrk, tax junk...finally, eye test. Amazing how well I'd done.  Then, she said "OK, now we're going to cover your right eye (the close up one)"... Oh Sh...Oh Shirt*.  Read the top row please. "There's a row?" I thought to myself.  The nice DMV lady could see I was struggling, and she whispered.."bah..bah...bah" "B" I answered! Then, "haa...haa...haa." "H!"...and all the way down three rows, she assisted.  Whew.

Fast forward to 2020. Oh *shirt, time to renew.  Walk in, nice lady don't work there no mo'.  Oh *Shirt.  Came time to close the close-up eye and try to read letters with the far-away-can-see-an-ant-at-the-end-of-the-block, but not one right below me.  I failed that part.  That's it. I'm never driving again. I can't work any longer.. Hell, I'm gonna have to move closer to the...Piggly Wiggly. (I was gonna say bar, but thought you might not think well of me.)

"So I failed?"  "OH NO SIR, it just means we'll have to put on your driver's license "left rear view mirror mandatory."  Whew.

Thank heaven, for little girls.  No.. that ain't it.  Thank heaven for rear view mirrors.

Rear view mirrors tell us much about life. Life in the rear view mirror of 2020 makes us realize, time is precious'er.  I know that ain't a word. Again, should be. We can bitch about much - but the river of life is gonna keep right on flowin'.  We can bemoan "Oh *shirt... he won, she won, he didn't, life, as we know it, is over."  It ain't.

We can get twelve shades of pissy (which I have) on political diddys.  Or not. We can, have had, 'battle' with those inclined to not think exactly as we each do. I/we, have been idiots, gotten pissy...I blocked someone not long ago, a classmate actually.. the other day, I messaged an old friend - he's politically opposed to me.  He didn't reply.

Time is precious'er.  Sorry, but screw that (political regurgitation). Bottomline, we're probably never going to change allegiance - so, pissy makes no sense.

 Health.  The rear view mirror of 2020 shows us the many fatalities along the way. Some, very old age, maybe expected.  Some, shocking.  Too soon.  Some, the pandemic.  Rear view mirror now shouting "PRECIOUS'ER."  Life, that is.

I ain't no preacher, I'm no longer a teacher, I've never been a mechanic over and above knowing Lefty-loosey, Righty-tighty.  That said...for 2021:

Hopefully calm prevails.  The rear view mirror has taught us, sometimes we simply aren't allowed, permitted, to see loved ones in person.  We can't forget how precious that is.

We had taken "STEEEEE-RRRRRIIIKKKKKE ONE" and "FIRST DOWN!" for granted....Hell, even curling ceased. Sure, we can still holler 'git ridda the manager, put somone else on the mound, at cornerback, in the GM office, yada.'  Just revel in the luxury of being able to do/say that.  The rear view mirror tells us it ain't a given. (Along with many things, a full church service, dinner out with friends, heck, even being entitled to attend a funeral to offer condolence.)

Thank God for children. Some, sadly, don't know anything over and above pandemic life. Oh how well they teach us.  Without the advantage of a rear view mirror they gleam, glow about life. We can learn from them.

Sorry I rambled. I'll get outta here. Main missive: relax. It's a given we will slip up. Don't beat ourselves up. We're human. Kind is always best. Our outer affects our inner. We see, believe, differently, and that will always be the case.  Facial expression is a choice. So are words.

The rear view mirror is mandatory.

2019 we took for granted.  Having 2020 in the rear view mirror (Thank God it's in the rear view mirror) teaches us life is precious'er for 2021.

Happy New Year,

Love, Victurd

Crazy...

 As a freckled-faced youth, my folks (and sister) helped found the local theater group.  Play after play they did.  "Victor?  Why don't you be in onea our plays?"  With apologies to my folks, and borrowed from my stepson, "Not no's, but hells no's."

A few years later I consented to do so, my one and only play ever. I did NOT miss a single line.  Quite proud I was to have perfectly played a deaf mute.  True.

The other morning I renewed my acting career by playing Ebenezer Scrooge.  Eh why not, it's that time of year.  I live in an old house converted into three apartments. I live on the lower level, and above me lives a couple of young men and the 23 other friends they entertain every weekend.

I love music, I do.  Usually though, not at 3am. Or 4, or 5.  Good kids, horrible neighbors.  They run, jump, yell, scream, yada.  There are verbal battles from their porch to others down on the ground.. at 3am.. 4am.. and 5am.  The local authorities have memorized directions to our building as neighbors have called them at least three times when I've been home.

I never have complained (until this blog I guess) - pretty much just figured one day someone else would live there - or, if it kept up, I'd move somewhere. Swore the move here was my last, but, I could scrape together coin for 2 Men and a Truck.

They are messy 'children.'  Certainly not basketball players as, when they aim at the trash barrels, they never make it.  For many a week, I embarrassingly went out and picked up trash, broken bottles, placed the trash cans back in their proper place, and even left an old man grumpy note on one, "Hey guys, please let's have some pride in where we live and keep the trash off the ground and in containers." Signed, "Grumpy Vic." (Or, "pops" as they call me.)

The morning after my note, and the last time I cleaned after them, I woke up to find a pumpkin, thrown from their porch, smashed to smitherines all about the yard.  They enjoy breaking furniture.  Chairs, hi-chairs, tables, yada.  Scattered in pieces, all tossed from their 2nd floor balcony.  A new item weekly.  FINALLY, finally - after the 4th trip by the cops to their joint - I took a picture of the yard, texted it to the apartment owner, "Do you drive by here?"  They were nice. Said "they are on way out, it takes 4 months to legally do so." I am embarrassed when people drive by.  Oh, I'm a slob, but not intronta my place!

Soooooooooooooooo.... After 6 hours of sleep (2 from 10pm to midnight.. 2 from 2am to 4am.. 2 more from 6am to 8am)... I set sail for Wally World to grab a few things.

Now, their music has a nice beat, it does. In fact, they have a mini studio for recording rap music.. and they play background "beat music" all the time.  I mean, all the time.  All thru the night.  (Almost done bitching, sorry.)

So, with toothpicks in place to prop eyelids, before I departed .. I tuned good ole Pandora to Classic Country (I figured the whippersnappers might enjoy that!)...  Aha, Patsy Cline's Crazy - first song up.  I cranked that sucker up, s'more and s'more. I'm in apt #2, a buddy lives in #1, and party-hardy boys are in #3.  With apologies to buddy in Apt#2, Patsy was LOUD.. on purpose  VERY, VERY loud.  Pun mebbe, Crazy loud.  Kept the ole stereo going, with smirk, headed out door to car to Wally World.  It felt good.  Real good.  Ebenezer Scrooge good.  Hehe.

Once home, I decided to look up "Patsy Cline's Crazy song meaning."  You might already know all this. I didn't.  It was actually written by a struggling country music singer named Willie Nelson. Patsy recorded it, it became a hit, and was one of Willie's most enduring songs - even on his debut album in 1962.

Two months before it was recorded, Patsy was thrown through a windshield in a car accident.  She temporarily couldn't hit the high notes....so... the musicians recorded their part, she rested for a couple of weeks - came back, with broken rib and standing in the studio on crutches - she recorded her part.  Crazy huh?

A favorite story of mine, Victor, you've told us this one before. Ahem.  A favorite story of mine... there was a kid's radio show where the star was Cowboy Bob.  One day, Cowboy Bob forgot to turn off the mike as the show ended - and all across  snotnose land came "THERE, that oughta please the little bastards."

Kinda how I felt that morning I cranked Pandora, Patsy and Crazy.

Love, Merry Christmas,

Ebenezer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbnrdCS57d0

Three things....

 For the vast majority of people, this has been THE MOST trying year of a lifetime.

We all seemingly have a 'right' to gripe, moan, suffer self pity, play "ain't it awful", yada.  

Then you look around.  Friends, loved ones. Loss.  Loss of parent(s).  Loss of mate.  Loss of loved one.  Loss of good friends.  A life changing event.  It makes me, at least, feel sheepish for the above "woe is me" attitude.

Jim Valvano was a basketball coach.  A good one.  A dynamic one.  In 1983 he took what had been a very average North Carolina State team to the NCAA basketball tournament where they ran past EVERY single opponent, culminating with the National Championship over a heavily favored Houston Cougar team that included several future NBA players.

After his successful coaching career he went on to become a basketball analyst teaming with partner Dick Vitale - a partnership overflowing with exuberance.

In June of 1992 at the age of 46, Jimmy was diagnosed with metastatic adenocarcinoma, a glandular cancer - a type of cancer that spread to the bones.

In February of 1993, during the ten year reunion of the Championship team, he gave a dynamic "Don't Give Up, Don't Ever Give Up" speech in which he spoke to the importance of hope, love and persistence.

Eleven days later, he was to receive the Arthur Ashe Courage Award at ESPN's ESPY Awards. He swore, when originally diagnosed, he was going to battle, fight, never give up.

When the night came to receive his award, Jim had dropped 35 pounds and was taking 24 tablets a day of Advil to get through the day.  He spoke to the Dick, told him he was sick as a dog, and didn't think he could do the speech, acceptance that night.  Dick talked him into trying.  He did, and man did he ever.  The speech has become legendary. The link to the legendary speech is below and I encourage you to see it.

To all of us, especially those dealing with horrific lifetime events - Jim speaks of Three Things to do every day:

"To me, there are three things we all should do every day.  We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh.  You should laugh every day.  Number two is think.  You should spend some time in thought.  And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy.  But think about it. If you laugh, you think and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day.  You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."

The night of Jim's speech, he established "the V Foundation", to raise funds to fight cancer.  Since his speech that night, over $200 million has been raised.

Sadly, Jimmy passed away nine weeks after the speech. Jim practiced what he preached and he lived every day with exuberance.   With hope, love and persistence...  and doing the three things daily..   Laughing. Thinking.  Crying.

Love and hugs to all, with an extra hug for those going through extremely trying events.

(To watch, plz copy and paste, thanks)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHKzH6zR8xE