Wiffle ball….

As a kid - I lived for wiffle ball. Fortunately, my folks didn’t have the passion to have “the most wonderfully manicured/green, yard on the block.”

Home plate was actually a home plate, and of course, no grass grew from under. Paths to each base worn. The water meter was second base. How no one ever got hurt sliding into the water meter is beyond me, but it never happened.

Launching one onto the Miller’s front porch was an automatic One Run Homer. The second story - two run homer. To the roof, not only ‘neighborhood legend’, but Grand Slam.

We measured the distance to the curb infronta the Curtis’s house - and recorded it in chalk on the curb. Same thing to the curb infronta the Melrose dorm..

We even went so far as to take a brand spankin’ new white T Shirt - and emblazon the number of our favorite player in magic marker on it. (Of course, Stan the Man, #6.)

Parents each, took their turn somewhere into the game, to treat us all with Koolaid. Chores, meals happened - but they were but a respite to the game that was to assuredly continue.

Arguments? You bet. Fun? Hell yeah. Good plays? Of course. Boners? Absolutely.

We were kids. Safe. Having fun. Sweating. Being, doing. Living. Passionate.

Silly - maybe, but I still look at life - especially this stage, this age… as I looked at wiffle ball back in the day. Can’t wait to get up, get outta bed, “ready to play.”

It’s a perfect age. Not so far from our youthhood to not remember it… yet full well knowing one day the sun will set and the game will be over.

So still……. Having fun. Sweating. Being, doing. Living. Passionate.

With kudos out to Mr. Ernie Banks…… “Let’s play two” (too).. For one day the sun will set, and I’m gonna enjoy the hell outta this wiffle ball game of life ‘til then. Love, Victurd

There are stars in the Southern sky......

Southward as you go
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Bridges… bridges are remarkable… both the literal “how to help get from here, to there”… and the connectors of one life stage to the next..

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

Love is a bridge.. a connection.. . Maternal/paternal love.. Junior high love.. young adult love… spousal love.. friendship love.. lifelong love.. love of life..

Sometimes there's a part of me
Has to turn from here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Bridges aide us in the advancement from rugrat, wobbler, youth, young adult, middle aged, senior, old fart. Scary those trips across the bridges may be. Some, get stuck on the bridge and never leave ‘the stage’.. some, sadly, never get to cross the bridge into the next stage…

There are stars in the Southern sky
And if ever you decide
You should go
There is a taste of time sweetened honey
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Many things can block the path across the bridge… fear.. lack of confidence.. depression.. physical/mental misfortune… accident… illness..

Just had a bridge here in Kansas City collapse.. ‘new’… 3 years old.. “bridges are supposed to last 60 to 80 years” engineers tell us. Doctor could say the same thing about ‘folks’. Relationships. Friendships. The aforementioned bridge is to be repaired by September 30. Some bridges in life may never be repaired, spanned again.

This wasn’t meant to be about death – but it is a real thing, and never with good timing.

Was supposed to be about us giving thanks to bridges, ie, appreciating life and it’s connectors... (Victor, preaching again?)... please remember, I write FOR me… hitchhikers welcome.. Thanks for the great times we’ve had crossing life’s bridges.. thanks for the connections… thanks for the bond in our various types of love… Thanks for the courage to cross bridges, albeit sometimes with not-so-good endings.. sometimes though, wonderful, lifelasting connections.

Seeya on the other side…… love, Victurd

I've had all I can stand, I can't stands no more!

Me, yesterday. No matter which way I turned, what I typed, who I talked to on the phone – each/all contributed to the day “going South.” My already red-face just got redder and redder. Inwardly, I wanted to blurt “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH… ENOUGHHHHHHHHH”… I simply wasn’t happy. “S” was happening, and I let it get the besta me. Me no happy camper. Me like camping, why no happy? No, no, no – don’t mean “what led to this” (me no happy), I mean “why do I allow this” (me no happy)….

So………… this morning I decided to Google “How to be happy.”

Ok, the all-powerful Wiki (the Funk and Wagnall of the modern ilk), tells me “Step 1, be optimistic…. Let go of the assumption that the world is against you, or that you were born with a gray cloud over your head.” (They even had a picture of a half full glass. Yippee, and my catch phrase has always been “it’s neither, the bastard leaks.”)

Yeah, yeah, Ok. “Be optimistic.” I do remember seeing the billboard this morning in commute that the Powerball is up to $37 million… that what you mean?

“How to be laid back.” I’ve been accused of being that. Prolly my slow work habits, mebbe even ‘cause the collars on my shirt never look the same on each side, there’s usually 5 McDonalds sacks on my car floorboard, I dunno.. Wiki says “slow down… do one thing at a time.. stop being a perfectionist.. focus on what you have, not what you have to do.” Hmmm… K. I am NOT gonna think about you, you 67 unread emails in my work inbox… rather.. I’m gonna smile, focus on the $127.42 my bank website tells me I have until payday, and the three slices of bread left atop the fridge. Wik, you da man.

“Live in the moment… take notice of the world around you.. focus on whatever you’re doing.. smile when you wake up.. commit random, spontaneous acts of kindness. be thankful for ‘what is’..” Yeah yeah, k. Tried it this morning, first thing. Smiled. Then looked at BR mirror. Holy shit. As a random act of kindness, I dampened my hair, kinda sorta got it back in place. I’m getting there yeah? Soon, I’ll be happy.

“Follow your gut.” No problem there. As most 50-something men, mine too kinda projects out there a bit. I’m always following it. “Make enough money to meet your basic needs.” Wiki, you’re pissing me off now, I WANT HAPPY. I’M A PEOPLE PERSON FOR BEHOOGETY SAKES!! Ok, so I’ll get a 2nd job. Welcome to Hardees, may I take your order?

“Find happiness in the job you have now.” We’re back to where all this started. I let ma job get the besta me yesterday. I am thankful for my job, and I do LIKE my job. I just slipped yesterday. Happens. Not good, but happens.

“Smile…Science suggests that when you smile, whether you feel happy or not, your mood will be elevated. So smile all the time!”

Ok, Ok, I did learn a bit Wik’, thanks. (And…… before Googling alla the above crap Wiki spieled out, I went to my local hangout after work yesterday. I coulda saved a whole lotta typing if I’da just suggested “Four beers.” Four beers worked wonders. I was optimistic. Laid back. Living the moment. Following (and filling) my gut. And smiling…… So, I guess, if I’m recommending anything here, you can write down alla Wik’s suggestions on a tablet, keep tablet within reach at all times… or simply remember, four beers.

Love, hiccup, Victurd

Scary stuff.....

In the morning newspaper…

Usually can’t wait for the sound of the paper to hit the driveway (well, hell, that’s not actually true.. Got behind in my bill a bit many moons ago, ‘fore too long, didn’t hear that sound. Sooooooooo, I drive to Mickey D’s, they have free ones!)


Anyways, I am in the “can’t wait’ mode to read, grasp, learn, keep up… and then I read crap, and I think “WHY? Why am I in sucha hurry this day, and any day - to read this crap?

After struggling thru “woman impaled on wrought-iron fence” and “two youths drown at FCA camp in Iowa".. On the application to camp, parents had written “Can’t swim” for each. 19 lifeguards - youths found at bottom of pool around 10:30pm, both.

Geez…

And then, the most revolting: Billy Roper is a write-in candidate for governor of Arkansas and an unapologetic white nationalist. “I don’t want non-whites in my country in any form or fashion or any status,” he says........ Are you serious? Isn’t this 2010? Wtf?

I suppose it’s a good thing I was born Caucasian, for I’d probably be dead now from fighting back. Unfortunately, I’m old enough to have seen some ugly stuff - but will never quite get the full picture from the shoes of the ones discriminated against.

A friend so eloquently put it: “Sometimes I take the view of "The world is going to hell in a handbasket". ...many times, it just makes me sad..Man's inequities towards man...or woman...I don't know what makes people tick...How can we place ourselves above others?...what makes us think that the plight of any living person is of less importance/value than our own? "Can't we all just get along?"

So, I needed a ‘feel good’.. Out and about into real life to see if “does life really look like it does from Mr. Roper’s shoes?”…..

The Kansas City - City Market. Ahhhh.. A genuine breath of fresh air, in the fresh air. Good gosh, folks of every descent. Every skin tone. Virtually every language. Size, shape, age, religious belief, religious non-belief, orientation.. And it was working. It does work. It can work. Thank you Kansas City. With no apologies for my French, FYVM Mr. Roper.

I/we walk daily with the thought of telling a vet, “thank you.” I almost feel the urge to tell anyone I fear might have ever been discriminated against “I’m sorry.”

Fortunately, good outweighs bad - but life still leaves us shaking our head upon occasion.
Love, Victurd

Fun things to say/hear………

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Hi, I’m giving my two week notice………. Notice?

La Mariposa

I do.

I love you.

You rock.

“OHHHH…… MYYYY…. GODDDDD”…. VICTOR!

Sorry…

Gosh, it’s only Sunday morning……

Yummy.

I like you.

But don’t let it go to your head.

I usedta couldn’t spell supervisor, now I are one.

Why do women always announce when they’re going to pee?

What the hell is wrong with you… you’re always in a good mood?

KU lost.

OH BABY - WHAT A PLAY!…..

You put the lime in the coconut you drink it all up…..

Can I wash your back?

Unique New York (THREE times… REAL Fast!)

Geezer, old fart, townie, hippie, hillbilly, simpleton, uppity, “Jaaahnson County”..

Suckface….

Walter, you son-of-a-bitch…..

Who the hell are those guys?

Are you all… crazy?

What you talking about Willis….

Got your bullet Barney?

‘Aint’ Bea…

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…

Tequila!

Wanna golf tonight?

Good God the meat on these BBQ ribs is falling off the bone….

More coffee?

Behind every great man there's a woman rolling her eyes

Behind every great woman.... is a man checking out her ass..

Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name.

Love, Victurd

Still movin’……..

Long ago, a buddy’o mine and I, oh, mebbe 18 each, attended an X-rated Drive In movie. Uh huh, they usedta have 'em. After handing over licenses to ensure we were of age, we slowly pulled into the place, ducking down so as not to be seen/recognized. Later, we giggled “hell, if we’re here, they’re here.”

Kinda got that feel this morning, the same giggle – as I people watched/listened, at Mickey D’s. Mickey D’s for breakfast is the senior citizen equivalent to the teenagers local pizza joint, the City Park, the pool, the lake, wherever one ‘hangs’…

Interesting to watch and try to see “who’s together” – “what was their life like”.. “what happened to their mates”… are there still attempts among you to ‘suckface?’.. “Can you still..” VICTOR! Sorry. . Just wondered…

So…. as I was sitting.. “ducking down so as not to be seen/recognized” I realized, I too “am one.” Know I’ve probably blurted before – but, the day of reckoning was “I’d like a sausage biscuit and a black coffee please.” “One sausage biscuit and one Senior coffee coming right up.” Bastard. But, reckon he was right. I am one. No sense in ducking down. (And fitty-nine cents is a wonderful thing.)

I quite pride of myself for crossword completion of the daily KC Star puzzle. (Ok, you’re right, some days of the week I complete it fully.) I was seated just next to two gents, 70-ish (at least.. prolly closer to 80.) There, they each had a copy of the crossword opened… along with a laptop, two huge books (I assume dictionaries) .. and it was a verbal tag team match for them to complete jointly. One thought he found an answer – but offered it to his buddy for his confirmation.

I’m thinking to myself, “simpletons, you don’t need no laptop to do the Star’s CW puzzle, it’s cinchy.. hell even I can do it.. and my first semester in college I proudly had a 1.65 gpa.”

Then, after I’d read the paper, tossed down two cups of coffee – I too attacked the puzzle. I’d hear them say “the clue.”.. “29 across is…….”… after a few minutes of that, combined with me working the puzzle, I realized, hell, they were working the New York Times Crossword puzzle.. one my puny little brain could NEVA’ be able to do. Sorry about the ‘simpleton’ fellas.. I rearrange my thoughts to – I think it marvy that, whilst one is 70-something, to still carry the angst to learn, and doing so via modern technology is a pretty damn cool thing.. U dudes rock.

A couple across from me.. came in at different times – so I knew not together.. yet, friends – each. Guy had a cool laugh.. and quizzed the gal about life in general. Then she specifically started talking about her daughter in Louisiana.. “she wants me to move there.. nice place to visit, but I’d never live there.”..

Guy continued on asking questions… She gotta house? No… Apartment? No… “I don’t wanna talk about it.”.. Coaxed further.. “a trailer.” Double-wide? “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

She then went on talking about it, and talking about it, and talking about it. Thrice times in their conversation I heard “I don’t wanna talk about it”.. and shortly after she resembled a balloon that’s been popped… spouting, spewing… talking about it. He tried to get up and go (politely) four times.. 4th time.. “I’ve GOT to go” (nicely).. .she kept talking.. He was a gent, she was very lonely…. Certain she drove to Mickey D’s ‘cause she didn’t wanna talk about it.

Interesting the responses, not just in “old-dom”, but in regular ole regular life to the question “howya doin?”…. My pat answer at work is “tired and old.” Young punks usually giggle, say “well.. I’m tired and young.” I always follow with what Roy Williams (former KU basketball coach.. I can’t believe I’m quoting a GD [gosh darn] chickenhawk) would say.. he’d tell his players “you’re TOO YOUNG to be tired.”

Dude at Mickey D’s today. Another 70-80 tweener.. upon being asked howya doin……
“Still movin’.” Beats the hell outta the alternative. Still moving, recognizing, appreciating, enjoying. The older ya get, the more special the days are. Damn my hip hurts. Still moving, barely. No idea what I did to it. Perhaps it has something to do with a not-so-perfect golf swing. Oh well, still moving.

Mickey D's in the morning is their slice of pizza pie... their cannonball off the high dive.. their boombox in the park.. I love old people. Guess I should. I am one.

Have fun from this day forward whilst we’re still moving. Until the day I pee my pants and forget my name, love Victurd.

Pomp & Circumstance…..

Of course, we recognize this as the song typically played as the graduating class, be it high school or college - walks on stage to signal their end, or their beginning.

I look at life, this song, and think of it more along the lines of “what the hell now?”…

Was visiting with beautiful cousin’s kid recently.. Graduates from College in December.. When asked “whadda ya gonna do in the real world?”.. replied, “dunno, scared.” As she went on further, learned she’s solidly aground in an internship program with a huge company, and she’ll have an easy (and well earned) transition.

Life though, brings us to those points “what the hell now?” occasionally. Death of a loved one. Divorce. Job loss. Illness.. Family history of depression… Financial trauma.. Being on the wrong end of verbal abuse, physical abuse… Weight gain.. Career not going as planned.. Feelings of inadequacy, and I would imagine, perhaps even aging..

Getting out of the blocks, in this “what the hell now” period is easy for many.. Resiliency. Approach versus reproach.

Some, however, mire. I’ve done both. Get-up-and-go… and I’ve also on other Pomps, mired in the circumstance . I guess mire would kinda be like falling off a boat in the middle of the ocean… you do nuttin’ all day ‘cept tread water. The longer you go, the harder the treading goes - and sometimes you actually feel inwardly “why even tread?”

The more ya need to do the things that’ll help ‘get you outta the water’ (social interaction, frequent contact with good friends/loved ones, confiding your feelings with someone close, eating well/right, exercising, perhaps professional assistance) the more depression tugs on your sleeve and says “huh uh… we ain‘t doin‘ that/”

Quoting Popeye, “I cants be’s nos doctor ‘cause I’m losing my patience” - I’m not a doctor, but just from own personal observation, sometimes I believe depression is situational. In very rare instances, I believe there can be a life changing event (or events) that puts that pep back in your step… lifts you back into the boat where coping with the real world is allofasudden, easier, more natural. Generally though, I think it’s a process, and you (the depressed one) gotta be the center of directing that process.

It’s not fun admitting ever being depressed, but I write in case you are.. Or in case you suspect a friend is.. Or a family member… Or simply should you run across it in the future, you’ll be better outfitted to assist…

It’s my guess, more of us (than not) have at one point in our lives, been depressed…

Below is a pretty decent article I found on basically how to deal with depression.. I welcome you to browse thru it, even if you personally have never been depressed.. Will help give u the tools to help someone you love that might be……

Thanks and love, Victurd…..

http://helpguide.org/mental/depression_tips.htm

Degrees……

Here, in the sultry Midwest, we’ve had very high degree days of late. Yucky hot. Sweaty hot. “I don’t wanna do anything” hot.

Interesting, life is. Varying degrees of everything. Saw a friend had arrived back in the states after a mission.. Commented “It is so good to be home, I will never take water, no soldiers with machine guns on the streets everywhere, and freedom for granted. This 4th of July will have extra meaning.”

Article this morning in paper about Garden City, KS. Huge Tyson Foods plant there. Workers from all walks there, as well as living meshed nicely in the community. Lunch break room has signs in three languages (English, Spanish, Vietnamese) and there are approximately fourteen different languages coexisting in employ.
(From Star: The city’s long history with immigrants may make it more welcoming today, experts noted. Kansas State University anthropology professor Janet Benson researched immigration in Garden City in the ’80s and ’90s and was struck by what she calls the city’s “quiet accommodation.”
“People get used to each other,” Benson said. “Our ancestors did. One of the ways they did it was through the legal system and the political arena. As people become citizens they learn about their rights. They vote. And that’s how we change as a people.”
Omar Flores moved to Garden City eight years ago from Chihuahua, Mexico. He said he rarely encounters anti-immigrant hostility. “This town is different,” Flores said while taking his 2-year-old daughter, Adaliz, to a local carnival. “They’re more welcoming. I think they’re used to it.” ) They get along. Cool.

Inner city. Two youths approaching 90 mph in effort to escape police. Finally, turned on midtown highway going South in Northbound lane. Not long after, lost control, off road, flipped time and time again - ejecting driver, pinning him under car. Same police that chased, pushed car off youth, administered CPR - youth later died at hospital. What makes that happen? Somewhere along the way ‘mesh’ didn’t happen. Probable the fault of many. Sad.

Interesting article on Willie Nelson this morning. Every 4th, he has a concert and invites groups from every different kind of music there is… county, rock, rap, hip hop, blues, jazz, etc. Works. Crowd gets along. Different degrees of socio economic, life experiences, upbringings, religion, sexual preference, etc. Works. “Rednecks, hippies, misfits - we’re all the same.” “It’s people drinking beer, smoking pot, and finding out that they have things in common and don’t really hate each other,” Willie says. “Music gives people a chance to enjoy something together.”

Tooka drive this morning (oh the degrees are down, soooo nice) around our little town. Early. 8am-ish. Folks everywhere, out on decks, porches, partaking in the shade and the wonderful brief respite from the degrees. Within a span of 60 to 90 seconds, you can move from one socio-economic end to the other within our town. Somehow, works. Always has. Hopefully always will.

Recently read article announcing Kansas City as “the thirteenth dumbest city in the US.” This was measured by the average number of degrees per square mile. Duh. And surprise surprise, New York City was at the top. Duh. I’ve always been of the belief anyways, degrees aren’t the end all/be all. It’s more of an opportunity, and many aren’t afforded that opportunity. I’ve learnt so much in life from folks not possessing a degree, be they a parent, a boss, a coworker, a friend, whatever. Degree/schmegree.

I know this blog was allover the place. Reckon that’s kinda the point. Degrees, varying, rock. Even when one has a 40 minute commute daily with no AC. Happy degrees, Victurd.

Happy Father’s Day…..

I am aware there are all kinds of father/child relationships out there. Great, good, so-so, bad, non-existent. I was lucky. My father rocked.

Jack of all trades, master of one - role model. He loved my mother immensely. He loved my sister and I greatly. He loved life. He loved simple. He loved rehabbing anything mechanical, and that frequently meant parts of a different color, brand… duct tape, spray paint… anything he could find to get it back up and running - short of buying the exact new replacement part. And he would/did.

My mother and father were at Winston Churchill’s Iron Curtain speech on March 5, 1946 in Fulton, MO. Kinda-sorta. They were actually on campus where his speech was made - but they were at a dance in an adjacent building. Growing up in the Depression, they deemed themselves “po, but didn’t know it.”

My father worked in sales for a living.. You name it, he sold it. Likable. Friendly. Real name Edward Schultze - longtime moniker “Bud”. Thus, with his gift of gab, occasionally he was nicknamed “BS”. He’d tell a two minute story in ten, simply to finally come around to a punch line… where you realized, all this time he was reeling you in - he got the last laugh, but you too were left with “Oh that Bud Schultze.” Leftfield. I feel fortunate to have learned it’s much more fun coming from leftfield, and I owe that to my father.

My mother suffered a massive stroke at age 58. Dad was a traveling salesman. The two wouldn’t work. He quit. Got “Dealer’s Tags” - sold cars from the driveway, cooked, cleaned, washed clothes, drank an occasional Budweiser, brought a bed to the first floor for my mother, slept on the couch, sang “Mack the Knife” (again and again and again), unmercifully (but funlike) teased my mother. Happy. He was happy.

My father never got a speeding ticket in his life that I’m aware of. If the speed limit was 40, he was doing 30. Sixty/fifty. We rode in the slow lane. No hurry. In fact, on the rare occasions he’d pass another car, my sister and I would clap.

People at work tease me because I wear the old white socks with shorts, and the socks come up to mid-shin. I don’t really care, I like ‘em. My father wore similar socks with shorts, only they were black.. “Oh no dad, PLEASE no!”.. He didn’t care. He liked ‘em.

With no intent to make him out as a legend - my father was simply very likable, and to me that’s a pretty damn good trait. Loved animals. Whenever someone brought up the term “euthanasia” he’d reply “you mean kill ‘em?”.. And that’s been handed down.

He too lived by “I still think I’m young.” Even when left with five, maybe seven hairs atop his head, he still do the ole’ comb over. If I ever needed him, he was there for me. Didn’t matter how many miles between, what the weather was like, I could count on him.

I know I repeat stuff, and I’m sorry for that. I know I repeat stuff, and I’m sorry for that. After mother had passed, and my dad was in the fairly early stages of Parkinsons (maybe age 78 or so)- he started having a bit of trouble getting up out of his chair. Soooooooooo.. We bought him one of those “lift chairs”.. Comfy, nice, helped. The day it arrived, it was accompanied by a representative from the manufacturer who spent well over an hour showing dad how to operate it, explaining everything about it… and at the end of the presentation he announced “and it even comes with a massager”.. to which Mr. BS replied “Does she spend the night?”

I’ma thinking, when it’s all said and done for each and every one of us - the most important thing will be - when you think of that person that’s now gone, how do you react -what kind of emotion do you have? I smile when I think of my father. I know of no better ‘salute’.

Happy Father’s Day Mr. Bud Schultze. I miss you. Love, Victurd (And yes, he is responsible for me having that nickname.)

Comfy…….

Familiar. In outta the rain. Easy. Nice. Aha… Ahhhhhhhh…

Creatures of habit, we are. We stumble out of the uterus, not knowing anything - and before too long - we’ve got a growing list of things, people, places that are comfy.

My office chair. McDonalds on the weekends for breakfast, newspaper. Drives down roads past. Bed. Friends. Family. In our element.

Uncomfy. I thought I was comfy with death. Unfortunately, all too familiar in my own nuclear family. Learning I have an uncanny fear, and not very comfy with being around others who have lost loved ones. What to say? How to act? Is it ok to say “oh I miss _____” and if I do, will it come out as if ‘forced’, cause it ain’t.

I do remember from losing mother, father, sister - how very good it felt seeing a familiar face - and how appreciative the simple “I’m sorry” felt. I’ve bungled some deaths - not attended some funerals - and there’s no going back, no do-overs, so hopefully I can just remember the two words “I’m sorry” and be there into the future.

Death isn’t comfy. This morning’s paper… Beautiful 39 yr old gal. Brain cancer. “leaves behind 16 month old daughter.” Yuck. Terrible. Tragic. Shouldn’ta happened. Not fair. Uncomfy with that. Two year old twins die in car due to heat, windows rolled up. Not fair. Uncomfy with that.

Some friends of mine work in places where death happens. I would think it would never get comfy. A friend I recently reconnected with works with the elderly.. When asked “how do you do it… get attached… and then… death?”… Her sweet, quick response was ."I consider it an honor to be a person who is there for the transition between life and death." Nice. VERY nice.

I volunteered to be co-chair for our upcoming class reunion “recognition of the deceased.” Unfortunately, there are approximately 22 out of 211 now gone. Uncomfy with that. Included within two of my best friends forever, Richard Justus and Bill Skillman. Uncomfy with that. Not fair. Sad - very. How can one ever be comfy about losing loved ones so early in their lives? Ya can’t.

My partner in this task has pretty much done all the footwork herself. I’m uncomfy with that - but I’m just not as comfy with death as I thought I was. Comfy and familiar are completely different.

I don’t necessarily think grieving is ‘a process’ with an end. I think it’s a lifetime.

My ex mother inlaw is not in too gooda shape. I appreciate the days on this planet I got to spend loving her - and they will continue in memory until eternity. A beautiful lady - with her own, beautiful snowflake way of doing things. Fiercly loyal.. A dash of rebel. A wonderful mother. A great mother in law (In spitea the “3rd person” talk.. “Does he need more mashed potatoes?“). Fun. She’s lived life fun. From her I attribute abiding by “my body may be old, but my brain will be young forever.”

She even has a fun attitude about death. In addition to receiving a phone call on each and every birthday - hearing her on the other end singing “Happy Birthday” in it’s entirety… when prompted in person, she’d gladly sing “The Worm Song.” Onea my favorite life experiences hearing her sing it:

They always, always pick on me.
They never, never let me be.
I'm so very lonesome, awfly sad
its been a long, time since I've been glad,
but I know what I'll do, bye and bye,
I'll eat some worms, and then I'll die,
and when I'm gone just wait and see,
they'll all be sorry cause they picked on me.

That helps, but I’ll still never be comfortable with death. Trying for a positive spin - maybe that’s impetus enough to soak up, cherish, chose to enjoy - every waking minute.

Will try to do - until the day I pee my pants and forget my name. Love, Victurd.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'

Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

Aging is a mo-fo on the brain. Whilst the body is telling you “you stupid idiot, you can’t do that any more” - the want to GET UP AND GO increases as we age.

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Oh, Lord, through the revolution

All this time, we’d soared like eagles, and perhaps didn’t have the greatest recognition/appreciation of it. Now, we’re left to visit with our spirit.

Feed the babies
Who don't have enough to eat
Shoe the children
With no shoes on their feet
House the people
Livin' in the street
Oh, oh, there's a solution

Taking notice. Before, we didn’t notice stuff like that. Perhaps aging, here, is a good thing.

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution

Buddy o’ mine today. Said “eh… kids nowadays.. They’ve got WII… Play Station II.. Cell phones… The Internet… we just had wiffle ball.. U don’t see kids playing wiffle ball any more… and.. It was “the best”…tonight, my granddaughter was over.. She has all that… (WII, PSII, cell, Internet… she comes to us with “I‘m bored“

Being fitty-something… whilst the bod might have slowed down, the brain is on overdrive. I wanna go, I wanna do.. I wanna see.. GOOD LORD HELPS ME take in/do as much as I can before I pee my pants and forget my name.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

Tick tock, tick tock… we learn to abhor clocks, calendars.. Decades… friggin AARP literature in the mail…

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free
Fly through the revolution

You say you want a revolution, well you know.. (Victor, you dumbass, you can’t combine two songs in a blog.)… Oh… sorry mate. So noted. K, so I am prepared, kinda-sorta, wishin’ an hopin’ (Victor!).. Sorry… Ok, so, might I say “I awaken daily, thoroughly cognizant “hey, time here is limited… go/do.. Appreciate.. “… And… while I was never really an “Honor Roll” kinda guy.. I think in life generally, I get it. I appreciate it. I immerse myself daily with “tick tock.. This is gonna be fun.”


Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

Corporate Challenge Long Jump. Learned I’m old. Corporate Challenge 3 on 3 basketball. Learned “Victor, WHO are you kdding.”.. Softball, Sunday nights with buddies.. Thinking “maybe it’s time.” Understand - and I knew this too would come to pass. I will move/go/do in other ways.

I so want to soar like an eagle (or hell.. A sparrow.. Or one’a those damn honking geese) on the way out.. I ain’t gonna let crap get in the way.
Time keeps on slippin’. I want to fly like an eagle.

Happy soaring, Victurd.

I'm in pieces, bits and pieces

Since you (Youth) left me and you said goodbye
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
All I do is sit and cry
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
You went away and left me misery (In Missouri)
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
And that's the way it'll always be

“We need people to sign up for the Corporate Challenge Events. Doesn’t matter how badly you do, or how long it’s been since you’ve done the event, we get participation points just for you being out there.”

Ahm, 40 years ago I usedta long jump. I see they got that. I see too that they break it down in age groups, but the basta’s ain’t got an age group for me. They have 20-29, 30-39, and 40 and up. Yes, I am “and up” but that shit ain’t quite fair is it?

The guy who is in charge of our company never responded, but had, I imagine he’da said “Well hell no Vic, people past age 49 shouldn’t be long jumping… what’s the deductible on your Health Insurance?”

(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
You (Youthhood) said you loved me and you'd always be mine
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
We'd be together till the end of time
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
Now you say it was just a game
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
But all you're doin' is leavin' me pain

Ok, so I gave in. Jumping against 40-somethings and up from other companies around the City. I peeked at last year, 6’ was last place. “Hell, I can do that.” Get there. 100+ long, lanky, much younger, in shape, “I’m going 22’ tonight” whippersnappers.

Were a few I could tell “hey, you’re an old sumbitch like me, I bet the first Bush was in office since you got carded yeah?”.. so we kinda gathered…

There also were 6’6” dudes that could easily simply step over a Honda Accord. Shee-it. I warm up. I stretch. I run down the asphalt a few times to “get my mark”.. I take one practice “leap”.. and hey, it’s ok, I hit my mark.

Drum roll. I’m standing, prolly number 40-something in line. My muscles were stretched. Frontwards and backwards. It’s just that it’s been a few President’s ago that I’ve actually “run full bore.”..

I am next in line. There are two points to jump from. “The Board” which is roughly 9’ into the sand… and what I will call “the woosie mark”… a taped departing area, about 4’ from the sand.

“I’m using the board sir.”.. So, off I went. Awkward. Been awhile. Got to board/mark “the hell do I do now?”…….. dayum…. I didn’t make it to pit. “Can I run/hide now?”… Didn’t, jumped back in line.

Second jump. I see a bunch a guys reasonably close to my age, and they are all using the taped line to jump from (4’ from the sand)…….. NAH.. Hell, “I’m good”….

So I go……… and I barely make it. I mean barely. I’m talking “Victor, had you been 6” shorter and landed on your tailbone, you’d prolly be a paraplegic now”……..

So…………. Last jump…….. It was finally my turn. I told the dude “This time, I’m going off the one closest to the sand” (The woosie mark).. … Did. Scratched.

I will never-ever-ever tell you how far (little) I jumped. It’s there if you’re Internet savvy. I will say, I was bummed. Then… awakened today…….. Results up…….. I finished 35th out of 40. I figure for 40-up, that ain’t too damn shabby.. Then, they group our results based upon competing companies similar in size, and lo and behold if I didn’t take 3rd. Outta like 6. Again,I will never-eva share “how far (less)” I jumped, lets just say it was less than half as far as I jumped as a kid.

So………… this whole thing has been a REAL eye-opener. I can play softball, fit in, blend in. Tomorrow, I’ll play basketball, fit in, blend in.

The long jump. Nuh uh. It told me…. “You dumb sumbitch… you need to pick a charity to donate your time to… you suck.. You’re washed up… we abhor recording the infimal results you old geezers turn in.. please stay away next year.”

Guys with
Time goes by and goes so slow (oh, yeah)
It just doesn't seem true
Only just a few days ago
You said you'd love me, never make me blue

(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
w you've gone and I'm all alone


(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
And you're still way up there on your throne
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
Nothin' seems to ever go right
(I'm in pieces, bits and pieces)
'Cause night is day and day is night

The message here is………In many things, there’s no ‘measurement” as to how old one is getting. I play softball. I get a hit once every three times, all is good. Basketball, a good pass here, an Ok rebound there, it's all good.

Today. Nuh uh. I lined up. I competed. I sucked. I keep awaiting the dreaded “tap on my shoulders”…….”Victor, give it up, you’re done.”

And certain in some respects, that already shoulda happened.

My brain is young, my body is old.

Quoting Beetle juice “somebody help me”

It's a long jump from 1970 to 2010. And man, have things changed. Love, Victurd

Because I should……

Come here many a time, stared. Blank brain. Blank Word sheet. Dayum. Come today, “because I should.” Sposedta, I guess.

Behaved in school, for the most part, ‘cause I should. Went to college, ‘cause I should. Down on my knees (twice) to propose, ‘cause I should. Worked (and worked) ‘cause I should - that and the fact I enjoy warm baths, lights on, AC/heat, etc.

Wear mostly appropriate clothing, ‘cause I should. Bathe, brush chops, throw on deodorant, ‘cause I should.

That said (again and again) I do love those who spout the three most wonderful letters on earth.
“Why?”

Two-a my HS classmates, when told “get a haircut, because you should” asked “why?”.. There wasn’t a good answer, yet, each, were prohibited from continuing to attend school. Because it shouldn’t have ended that way.

Conform to HR rules, don’t ‘technically’ gender discriminate, and don’t say things I shouldn’t to chickies that I may be thinking. Technically - you ask? I (lovingly) love to diss women at work any chance I get. They know I’m teasing, and rather than be offended, they’re sometimes prompted to smile… and that plays LARGE with me. We smile, because we should.

For instance.. On break.. Equal number-a chicks/males.. Subject of births was brought up. Somewhere into it, I threw in “I was born in 1952.. Delivered by a female physician…which was rare in those days… now though… we let women do a lot more things.” Hehe. So, while they stare at me (with smirky grins), they don’t say STOP IT Victor (because they shouldn’t) and I just stare back with a smile.. one small way to get around "because I should."

The brain somehow allows us to defy “because I should” whilst still conforming to school, company, societal ways. Come out of the dugout, not from leftfield. Sand WITH the grain, not against it.

Nomme. I love Abby Normal. I giggle the first time I hear a toddler say “shit” because it mortifies the parents into YOU SHOULDN’T. Because you should (behave, walk straight/narrow, don’t pass go, don’t collect $200... Exit only.. Wear nice clothes to church.. Wash behind your ears… wear nice undies in case ur in a car wreck... HOW CAN YOU HAVE ANY PUDDING IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR MEAT?)

Nomme. My undies have character. Hehe. I am bored shitless with “because you should” so I love pushing the envelope. “________, you’re disgustingly sappy on the phone.” She is, in fact, VERY nice to our customers, because she should be. I prefer to give her crap about it. Just once I’d love to hear her cuss someone out on the phone, but it’ll never happen ‘cause she shouldn’t, she’s probably got very clean behind the ears, and undoubtedly un-holy undies.

Just read nifty article on John Wooden. Just passed, probably the greatest basketball coach ever. 1957. He was coaching a small college basketball team back East. Qualified for National Tourney in Kansas City… wouldn’t bring team however. Happened to have a young black man on their roster. NAIA said “you can’t” (ie, because you should follow our ways/rules.) Wooden, probably inside, said “Screw you… we ain’t coming.” And they didn’t. Way cool John. “It wasn’t because he was a great player, because he really wasn’t… it was because it just wasn’t right.” Rest in peace Mr. Wooden, God Bless.

Hard to fathom where our Country/World would be today had not folks stepped up and spouted “why” to “because you should.”

Going now. Because I probably should. Gonna go bathe, flip my undies (jk… already did that last time… time for ‘new’ character pair. Speakinowhich.. WHY do they call undies “a pair”?)

Gonna go stare at the happy weeds in my flower bed. Drives Gladys (because you should) Cravits crazy. Play a game or two of Sudoku. Take a nap. Put my feet up on the counter. Anything I can think of to question “because you should.” HEY... TEACHER.. LEAVE US KIDS ALONE.....

Have a great day, because you should. Love, Victurd.

Of brown spots and stray hairs..

Aging is a wonderful muther dubber. The Boy Scout motto (or was it Cub Scouts… hell I forget.. I just remember I hadta do something voluntary at a church to get some merit badge... I’d never been in a church.. Scared the watoosie outta me, quit.).. Ahem.. “Be Prepared.”

Well… there ain’t no way to prepare for aging. You observe older folks as a youth, entire time thinking to self “I ain’t gonna be like that.”.. Then, we’re like that.

There was some movie, again, can’t remember fer sure which, in which Steve Martin had some incredibly outta place facial feature (nose maybe?) and he was completely terrified out in public. I get up, drive to work. Shakes hands, visit with those all around. Then. To restroom. Unfortunately, basta has incredibly wonderful lighting. There. It’s there I discover what must be in excess of one half inch long - “the” ear hair. Damnit Jim.

So….. Thanks to kind coworkers, they kept their giggle inside, didn’t laugh at me as they did Steve in the movie. I plucked that basta, and onto another day.

Now, before I say “hey” to anyone at work, it’s to the greatly lit room with a pair of tweezers to nip in the bud any wondering hairs. They grow with more frequency than my grass in the spring. Why, after fitty some years, does God tell the body.. Tell the ears.. “It’s time.” I mean crap, they’ve been sequestered for half a century, and NOW it’s time to grow?

Of walking upright. Tippy Butts. Remember this town “character” growing up. He was prolly six foot tall, but was more actually like three foot tall vertically, and three foot tall horizontally. “I’m not gonna be like that.” Uh huh. Can be. No matter the pursuit to “stay young” (golf, basketball, softball, bowling, elliptical) - the next day, I awaken, walk like Tippy into the bathroom - and view my vertical-horizontal self. She-it.

Shrinkage. You’ve got a dirty mind, not what I’m talking about - but then again never measured.. Hell .. That’s probably happening too.. But not from aging.. From lacka use.. I have gone from 36/34 jeans/slacks……. To 36/32 jeans/slacks.. The the ‘now’ 36/30 jeans/slacks. I now know how the Wicked Witch of the West felt. I remember in High School being measured “close enough.. Let’s call it 6 foot.” Works for me. Recent health fair at work.. “a shade over 5’11”……. Where did that inch go? Will there be certain rides at Worlds of Fun I won’t be allowed on? Will I die a midget?

Brown spots started happening right about the time I turned fitty and the bastas from AARP mailed me their crap. “Huh uh, nomme.” Tossed the AARP literature. Scraped the brown spots. Damn if they didn’t both return.

So……. Remembering (Boy Scouts or Cub Scouts, hell I dunno) “Be Prepared” I Googled “what to expect as I age.” Found a report from the Mayo Clinic.

“Swallowing and the motions that automatically move digested food through your intestines slow down as you get older. The amount of surface area within your intestines diminishes slightly.”

Great… I guess BBQ Ribs are out… sounds as if I’m destined for pickles and grapes.

“About one in 10 people age 65 and older has experienced a loss of bladder control (urinary incontinence). “

Great… Now I’ll have to get better lighting in my bathroom at home to check for wondering ear/nose hairs, as well as pee stains.

“The number of cells (neurons) in your brain decreases with age, and your memory becomes less efficient.”

Where was I?

“Hearing loss is one of the most common conditions affecting adults who are middle-aged and older.”

This could be a good thing. Brb, going to turn up The Temptations.

“How your teeth and gums respond to age depends on how well you've cared for them over the years.”

Why did I read that? Damnit.

“With age, your skin thins and becomes less elastic and more fragile. You'll likely notice that you bruise more easily.”

Knew that one. Hell, if I don’t turn the lights on when I awaken (like clockwork) at 3am to pee - and I lightly bump into the BR doorway… I get a bruise on my arm the size of Cuba. Worse than anything I ever got way back in the day when I used to arm tackle on the football field.

“With age, sexual needs, patterns and performance may change. Women's vaginas tend to shrink and narrow, and the walls become less elastic. Vaginal dryness is a problem. All of this can make sex painful….Impotence becomes more common in men as they age. By age 65, as many as one in four men has difficulty getting or keeping an erection. In others, it may take longer to get an erection, and it may not be as firm as it used to be.”

Now, I’m an upright chap, but you gotta nuther thing coming if you think I’m going to rise and respond to that one. Besides, I’m single for behoogety sakes!

And Mayo goes on to remind us old farts to stop smoking (har har), eat healthy (a number 2 super-sized please) exercise for at least 30 minutes most days of the week (have been, and that’s given me the Tippy Butts syndrome), maintain a healthy weight (yeah yeah, so-so).. Get enough sleep (how does one control that when you awaken bright-eyed at 4:45 am?). Follow your doctor’s guidance. (I don’t go to the doctor.. And when I did, he was like 20+ years younger.. Howinthehell is he going to advise me.. He’s never even had any ear hair?)

So…. Still ticking. Beats the alternative.

And…… until the day I pee my pants and forget my name…. Love, Victurd.

May-something, 1970...

Oh Victor, the next 40 years…..

What? What about ‘em?

Different. Very.

You mean I won’t settle down, have two kids, marry that gal the was Courtwarming Queen, the perfect ranch home on the perfect cul-de-sac?

We’ll somea that. You’ll never really settle down.. In fact, 40 years from now you’ll still be quite the Happy Hour attendee… and you will eventually, kinda-sorta, have two kids.. And no, you won’t marry the Courtwarming Queen either time..

EITHER TIME? WHAT? Unheard of… I learned from my grandparents.. 60 years married.. My own folks.. One wife, one hubby, one marriage..

Sorry Victor. Twice. You’ll say “til death do us part” twice.. Although you admittedly welled up the second time ‘cause you had already said it.

Then who? Who will I marry?

The first will be a gal that played women’s basketball for you. (kinda-sorta).

WHAT? They don’t even HAVE women’s basketball. I’m gonna coach? Was she the best on the team?

Well.. They did/do have women’s basketball, yes, you will be the assistant on the very first ever WJC team, and Head Coach for 6 more years.. And no, she barely played, your decision.. But she was pretty, exhilarating…

So….. We had two kids?

No… zip.. She came home after 6 and ½ years and announced “I told my father, I possibly have feelings for others… he said ‘then take of your belongings, and get out’… so that’s what I’m doing.”

WHAT? Marriage in my family just don’t end. Did I yell, scream, pitch a fit, beg?

No.. it all ended quietly.. And, while I’m certain she’s well and good - you’ll never see her again from 1980 until 2010.

Dayum.

So… I was 30-ish.. And no kids.. Darn.. Wife # 2?

Well, Mr. Cradle Robber, she was 8 years younger than you.

NO WAY.

WAY.

Pretty?

Very.

And we had kids?

Well… kinda sorta. She already had a 5 year old when you met.

How’d we meet?

You umpired her softball games where she, her two sisters and her mother played on the same team… She too was a friend of a friend you played softball with, and she’d come watch your games…

Damn…

Did the kid and I get along?

Yes.. .. You ended up coaching his little league teams, helping with birthday celebrations, homework, fixing broken toys, setting up army guys, playing catch.. You loved him as if he was your own.. At times.. There was a little animosity upon occasion (both ways) between he and your own son.

MY OWN SON? I/we had one?

Yes, 15 years after you graduated from High School. In fact, you went to Back to School Night for his first grade class.. And on the way home he said “Dang dad, you’re the oldest dad in my class.”

The little turd.

What about work? Will I teach 30 years and retire.

Hardy har har har. Not quite.

Then what?

Well… you’ll sell potato chips.. Work for three, count ‘em three, different airlines. (One disbanded it’s hub here, you coulda gone to NY or Chicago part time, you separated… Two went bankrupt.)

Damn…

There’s more….

Tell me…

You’ll work for an air freight forwarder, two trucking companies… You’ll get a friend on at one of them, she’ll leave her hubby (your friend) for the owner of the trucking company, you’ll quit for spite… start your own trucking company… make $60 the first month.. Living off of it by month three.

Damn, that’s not bad.. Then is that how I finish my working career? Owner-operator retires/sells business?

Ahm, no. After three successful years, you’ll come home one day and she (#2) will say “me or the business….. Pick.”

And having said “till death do us part” I disbanded the company didn’t I?

Yes Victor, you did.

You say I still attend Happy Hour with regularity.. A married man doesn’t do that.. You mean NUMBER TWO DIDN’T LAST EITHER?

Sorry. Didn’t. Oh it was a very good marriage for a long time (20 years).. Then, shit hit the fan. Your sister, I’m very sorry, died of cancer in January of 1999..

NO.. that’d make her only 51, say it ain’t so..

Sorry… so… And her brother would commit suicide two years later, the day after your wife’s birthday…

Damn.

That one really affected everything. Not solely to blame for sure - but many things happened. One sister inlaw got divorced, one was in a not so great marriage. Thus, the three sisters (your wife included) started “Girls night out.”

Well.. Probably not a bad thing…

Perhaps. It started as Wednesday nights.. Then, wasn’t long after it went to Wednesday/Fridays… and a bit later Wednesdays/Fridays/Saturdays….

Geez, you don’t even have to tell me how this one ended…

Sorry Victor..

Did I ever teach? Yes, yes you did. You taught one year of High School.. And another five years in the District you grew up in as an Elementary PE Teacher..

Cool! Did I get fired? How come I left?

Well, you panicked.

Huh?

Yeah… they have a “continuing education program”.. you were to have 6 hours completed by such-and-sucha year.. You didn’t… panicked, and found another job.

Darn.

Yep. You currently enjoy your job.. Your company moves Military member’s Household Goods allover the world.

I travel?

No.. everything is subcontracted, you work from your desk in Grandview, MO..

I loved baseball… did I keep playing?

Well, kinda-sorta again. Softball. You played many, many years both overhand fast pitch, and slow pitch.. Then, at age 45, you and wifey #2 took a family vote (as to whether you should continue to play) and you lost 1 to 1.

Damn.

But.. Then you got divorced. And, at age 56, you said “Screw it, I’m playing again.. Even if I’ve had Cataract surgery”

CATARACT SURGERY? THAT’S FOR OLD PEOPLE!

Well.. You are fitty-seven. You’d never been to the eye doctor. Things were getting blurry.. You made appointment.. He looked you over.. For 30 minutes he didn’t say a word.. Finally..
“How old are you”… 54... “you got cataracts.. In both eyes”

Damn… So, my only surgery?

Well.. . No..

You’ll have knee surgery at age 40-something… and then… after you get divorced (the second time)… remember that enlarged testicle (hydrocele) you have?

Yes….

Well… you were a little worried, at age fitty-something.. Of dating again… getting hot/bothered.. And ‘she’ would reach down there, grab that big’n and scream… so.. You had it corrected… by a gay doctor.

COME ON MAN.. You’re shitting me?

Nope, ain’t. You weren’t aware he was gay.. Until you heard his voice, saw his physical manners.. But he is respected in his field, so you continued with him… after surgery to correct the enlarged testi.. He brought you in the office… asked you to “drop your drawers”.. .he stood back thirty feet.. Put his hands up.. Thumbs together.. As if peering thru goalposts… looked at ‘em and said “PERFECT”.. You didn’t know whether to laugh or run.. Bottomline, your testicles now match in size.

So.. That’s about all that was ever wrong with me??

Aside from a broken wrist, some broken fingers, a broken nose (you’ll suffer that one in a pickup game, one of your students will accidentally whack you) and being stitched up a few times, yes, that’s about it.

So……. With all those jobs.. It doesn’t sound as if I’ve got much retirement built up?

Astute Victor. And funny you should ask about it in 1970, ‘cause you didn’t think too much about that en route to age fitty-seven. You’ve got a very small 401K.

Do I enjoy life the next forty years?

I’d have to say yes Victor. You had a very loving nuclear family, and you loved them back. Each marriage had very good times - the ends to each were sudden and unfortunate. You’ve had great times with your son (you coached him for years and years in baseball, basketball, soccer… you spent EONS of time playing catch, taking batting practice, shooting hoops.. Running his teams from this tournament to that one… a blast.)

Nice… So, gulp, I honestly don’t know if I could say “until death do us part” a third time.. Have I given up on women?

Let’s say you’re maybe ‘gun-shy’.

Huh?

Well.. There are a few along the way (you’ve been alone now for nine years) that got pretty darn serious, and each and every time you’ve pulled away. Torn between “I just don’t know if it’s right” and “hell, two have left me, what’s to say she won’t”.. You prolly need to go to a shrink about this, but knowing you, you won’t.

Yeah, you’re probably right. So my entire nuclear family is gone?

Yes, sorry. You phrase it “I couldn’t have landed in a better nuclear family, the basta’s all just departed too soon.”

Very true.

So what kinda women have I dated since #2?

Well… good question.. A conundrum….

Huh?

Yeah… you’ve been out with a 20-something, some 30-somethings, some 40-something, some 50-somethings and some 60-somethings…

Damn daddy. Wild. Say mister?

Yes…

Could you come back in 2010, let me know how/when “it all ends”?

Well Victor, I supposed I could do that. I would remind you, life is a palate, and you possess the paint/brushes to create the ‘remaining years’ however you like, for the most part.

Thanks Mister. While the brutal honestly of “how the next 40 will go” was at times disturbing, I appreciate it.

You’re welcome Victor. Happy painting.

Knock knock………

Who’s there?

Damnit Victor, no one. You haven’t written in this blog since like March 20th.. Do you really think folks wait around with baited breath daily JUST to see if you’ve written?

No. But it does make me curious what baited breath smells like.

Mish mash. (Which reminds me of the song “splish spash.. I was taking a bath”)… Victor, don’t ever go to The Dish, your hangout, and then blog.. Ya know? Ahm, last time I looked at my 1040, tax return, it indicated single… and that.. “Victor, don’t ever go to The Dish, your harngout, and then blog” sounded as if I was married. Did I file incorrectly?

I meant mish mash ‘cause this will probably be allover the joint, no rhyme, no reason.. And I can’t believe I spelled rhyme the first time and Windows didn’t underline it. Sumbitch.

On aging, and why I feel a bit older. Ahm, I listen to 101 The Fox, the local Classic Rock station.. And…. I recognize maybe 60% of the songs. That IS old Victor.

When I get in (and out) of the bathtub, I have to stop and think. What usedta be “up, out”.. is now “stand… center your weight… hold on to something… lift one leg gently, over, and to the ground. Steady. Steady. And then the other leg.” Dry ‘em off IMMEDIATELY, or I’m toast. Even scarier - as I put the second leg down - I’m forced to kinda point my eyeballs downward. Scary sight. Scary. I’m getting old.

Corporate Challenge. It’s an athletic thing, companies around our fine metropolis, have events of almost every type. Thus far, I’m signed up for: the festive, celebratory mile walk (participation points.. Can handle this one).. The long jump (yeah, Victor you told us that one).. Softball (“you’ll shoot your eyes [implants] out”.. golf. (dead last last year, ANY division).. Darts.. And 3 on 3 basketball. I “sound” 30, act 20, and body is 60.

Continuing “old:”. Basketball practice the other night. 95% of the time, I didn’t embarrass myself. Mebbe one reason is that of the five of us on the team, four of us are a combined over 200 years old. I fell down twice. TWICE. Mind says “Body go here”, brain says “You dumbass, you’re fitty-seven” so I fell, TWICE.

“Look at Victor! He fouled himself!”… Pardona ma my French, but fuck you guys! I had fun, goal number one as I stroll, stumble, forward.

Enough about aging Victor, how are things in the female department?

Next question please.

Ahm, Ok. How’s work?

Work is great. My respite. I’ve been labeled “class clown” and am dayum prouda that. I’m on the “Fun Committee”.. we think up fun shit for allofus… dinners.. Outings… A bit back I organized a pizza lunch in the park for somea us.. And, on Cinco de mayo, I’ve organized our first “after work, show us how bad you are at golf” outing.

I’ve played golf already three times this year, WAY aheada normal. Victor? How are you shooting? Right-handed, next question?

Knock knock?.. Victor, damnit, there’s no one here. Like dating, don’t get your hopes up. It’s useless.

In summation, I’m having fun. No, not getting laid. Yes, go to Happy Hour too damn much. Yes, avoid some personal responsibilities I should stay more on top of…………..but………..

I have fun. I love laughter, and try to make others around me do just that. Had’a wonderful email from a chicky in Jacksonville, FL who is forced into reading goofy emails from me.. She said “you’re a hoot.. I would LOVE to work with you!”.. .Shit like this keeps me going. That rocked. I do love my job. Lucky. Good Lord willing (and, us getting proper ROI.. Long story. Stands for “Return on Investment”) I’’ be there awhile.

So you.. Yes you. The one that ain’t here reading. Go. Do. Smile. Laugh. Realize “like sands thru the hourglass, so go the days of our lives.” Tell those ya love ya do. Peruse your email list. See any ya ain’t heard from, write, say “Hey, was thinking about you, what sup?”

A little diddy……… bout Jack and Dianna… no, that ain’t it… A little diddy, about Victor and getting old. One American “kid”, in the Heartland.

THANKS (no one) for being here.. I love you like you’ll never know (‘cause you ain’t here)…

Peace out… Love, CorporateChallengeNoSexOldManHavingFunActYourAgePLEASE, Victurd.

I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time

I was sayin' the right things, but I must have used the wrong line

Aha.... Good ole' Dr. John... This song encircles life.. (Back to mama's advice.. "The true secret to success in life is how you deal with "Plan B".. or, mebbe in my case, plan C, D, E, F, etcetera, etcetera).....


I was on the right trip, but I must have used the wrong car
Head is in a bad place and I wonder what it's good for
I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time
My head is in a bad place, but I'm havin' such a good time

Me. I go. I go out. I don't go home, most nights. I have fun. I laugh. I spend (not good, I know).. I ain't hurting a soul. My head is in a bad place, but I'm havin' such a good time....

I've been runnin', tryin' to get hung up in my mind
Really got to give myself a good talkin' to this time
Just need a little brain salad surgery
I got to cure my insecurity

Prolly a lotta truth there in that word 'insecurity'... #1 walked, for I have no idea the reason. Happened in late 1970's, not a word 'tween us since that day, so no idea. #2 walked.. (or leaped into bed, however you wanna look at it) in 2001.. Yes, I know - her leaping could have a whole lotta to do with me, my actions, behaviors.. but.. nanny nanny boo boo, I DID keep my zipper up....

And I was in the wrong place, but it must have been the right time
I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong song
I was in the right thing, but it seemed like a wrong wrong
'Cause I was in the right world, but it seemed like a wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong

Again... I set the course for my day.... I love my day.. and my evening... right place? Dunno... Wrong time? Mebbe... Would others deem "wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong".. mebbe.. but again... I ain't hurting a sole.. mebbe me? Right place? Wrong time(s)?

Slippin', dodgin', sneakin', peepin', hidin' out down the street
See my life shakin' with every who I meet
Refried confusion is a-makin' itself clear
Wonder where to, where do I go to get on outta here

Fer sure. I am stuck (on bandaids, 'cause bandaids stuck on me).. I am upside down with my mortgage. (Victor, you're a whiny butt).. uh huh, am, sorry. Danger danger, warning warning Will Robinson: note to all potential divorcees for any reason.. (but 'specially for the reason their mate inadvertantly lost control of their genitals)..... see next paragraph, pretty please......

DO NOT SAY "YOU GET THE HELL OUT!"... What that leaves you with, is, a bigass mortgage... one who will come back one day and say "fair is fair, I want half of the equity" ($25K in my case)....... so...... YOU got $25K? Friggin' A Ray, me neither. So... that means...... cha-ching.... re-finance....... so.. that means.... cha-ching..... mortgage goes up...... BUY AN APARTMENT..... Instead say "WE HAD MANY GOOD SCREWS IN THIS HOUSE.... SINCE YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE SCREWING.. IT ONLY FITS THAT YOU SHOULD KEEP THE HOUSE TO CONTINUE WITH THE GOOD SCREWS"........ I'm gettin' me a five hunnerd dollar apartment (AND $25K).....

'Cause I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time
And I was sayin' the right thing, but I must have used the wrong line
I took the right road but I must have took a wrong turn
I took a right move but I made it at the wrong time
I was in the right trip but I made it in the wrong car
My head is in a good place and I wonder what it's there for
'Cause my skull is in a bad place

Victor, you're publishing all this on the internet???... for (how did that song by the "Beautiful People go?".) "lovers, fuckers and thieves" to see? Si, I am badbreath person. I was in the right place, but I left at the wrong time. Actually, still there. Ain't left yet. If I can help one soul, nifty.

I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time
I was on the right song, baby, must have been the wrong line
I was in the right place, must have been the wrong time
I been on the wrong road, wrong road so long
I been on the wrong road, wrong road so long

I'm happy in my life. Hard to believe after all that crap - but am. I am passionite, occasionally creative, once or twice a year - funny, I whistle, I laugh, I ogle, I think (daily) "good Lord she's got a fine derriere, she's only 33, WHY did my parents have me when they did?"....

I was on the right trail, but it must have been the wrong train
I was in the right [arm], I think it really was the wrong place
Really, really, really, really was the right place
Really must have been the wrong time

Victor? You still in mourning? Someone sent you an email asking you that. Are you?
Eh, mebbe I am. It's not about "return to yesterday".. it's more about "why?".. "what were those years worth?" (Ex's maiden name Worth, mebbe pun intended).. I was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong wife.

Victor, you've had a couple beers, are you SURE you wanna hit "send" (publish?)..

Si. Life is all about sometimes being in the right place at the wrong time. It's all about "my head is in a bad spot, and I wonder what it's good for".. Bottomline.. when I hear this song, I CRANK it. It's happy, whimsical, fun. Sure, also deep.

Very very much of my life has been spent in the right place at the right time. But... sure.. upon occasion (or within decades) I've been in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time. Peace out. Love, Victurd

Ker - plunk….

Aging is akin to an all you can eat buffet.. You see it.. You attack it… soon, you regret it. As in aging, you see things "I usedta do that.. still can".. then..

Corporate Challenge ahead. I signed up for 3 on 3 basketball. Hell, it’s half court. I can do that. Can’t I?.. 3:57pm yesterday.. Community Center, Liberty, MO. Fitty-seven year old idiot walks up to desk.. “ahm, I know I’m an old guy, but do you guys checkout basketballs?”.. The guy covered up his mouth quickly.. Tried to pass it off as “I had an itch” but I just know the bastard was laughing at me. Har har, I know it’s stupid - but hey, I just wanna go shoot a few.

Did. Have they recently changed the height from ten to eleven feet and no one told me? I couldn’t get it there. Ker - plunk. It was definitely weird, definitely different, definitely been a long time. Finally, after cobwebs wore off - I actually made several (even some 3-pointers) but, for the most part, ker - plunk. All you can eat buffet - oh do I regret that.

So, I’d ‘elliptical-ed’ three miles, shot some hoops - time for the sauna and the Jacuzzi. Who knows, mebbe that gorgeous (I ain’t kiddin’) 65 year old Japanese lady will be there. Wasn’t. Sweating profusely from sauna - walked to Jacuzzi. Big lady sitting where by the steps where you get in, didn’t see me. Tis ok, I’ll just slide in here over the edge and dropoff into it. Ker - plunk. Did.

Snotnoses doing flips, dives off diving board.. Climbing this wall-climber thingy in attempt to slap the board at the very top… Finally.. Nudder old guy.. On diving board. HELL YEAH BROTHER! ONE FOR THE AARP! He had perfect form. Stood with arms down at side - took the rehearsed one, two, three steps.. Bounced offa both feet.. LOOK OUT RAFTERS - HERE HE COMES! Didn’t. He was old too. He never got in the air, dribbled himself off the edge of the board, landed without so much as a splash. Ker - plunk.

Hate that gray? Wash it away.

The brain says “yes”… after three trips to the buffet.. A round of shooting hoops.. Two and a half miles around the track, the body says ker - plunk. The old gray mare she - ain’t - ain’t what she usedta be, ain’t what she usedta be.

One time, bank camp, circa ten years ago - when three trips thru the buffet line still caused heartburn - but it didn’t last so long. Ex and I drove to Columbia, MO for the Show Me Games.. A State Track meet for old people. I’d actually placed a few years earlier in the high jump and the long jump - but by now I was in upper 40’s, competing against 'snotnoses' that just turned 40.

Two gas tanks full. Motel for the night. Meals on the road. First, THE VERY FIRST time I ran down the runway to long jump - pulled hamstring. Now I’d never done that before - but it’s kinda like trying to watch satellite TV during a thunderstorm - ain’t gonna happen. I swallowed my pride, limped to the car… My very first meeting of: ker -plunk.

I thought about doing this to the lyrics of “Been down so long it looks like up to me” but then again this chit is sposedta be positive, so didn’t.

Oh.. And today.. After several decades of checkenginelight.. The ‘96 Taurus eventually dying, the ‘99 (HOT… ROD) Lincoln sputtering to it’s demise.. My 1999 Dodge Van.. Reverse had gone out months ago, as had overdrive.. (My 70 mile commute has been costing me $16 a day ‘cause engine always revved.. Oh well, it’s gotten me there.. And back)…

Anyways.. Of late.. It’s been chuggin some… today… going up small hill, decided “done.” No more. Finito. Ker - plunk. Of course, it’s in a no parking zone - but not to worry, four friends on their way in 50 minutes to help - we’re pushing it to a lot where it’ll give me a couple days to see what I’ll do, where I’ll take it. It’s Sunday for behoogety sakes.

The uplifting part. “Hello Janet?”.. Yes.. “It’s me, Vic. Remember that time you offered to loan me your 3rd vehicle when my van finally went ker - plunk?”… and they did/have. Gracious. I’ll figure a way, some day - to repay them.

And.. For 24 of the last 36 hours, an 8 inch snowstorm has put the beginning of Spring on ker -plunk.

As I sat in the van - awaiting my friends, collecting my thoughts.. Peru$ing my worries.. I peeked to my left. There, RIGHT THERE, next to me, in the middle of the road - a big, fat, BEAUTIFUL robin. There is a God, all will be AOK. Spring has sprung, fall has ker-plunked.

Life, aging, “hell yeah I’m going thru that buffet line”.. “fer sure I’m playing 3 on 3 basketball”.. “By goodness ur dayum right I’m gonna (fast-walk) and do the long jump”.. but will prolly end with ker -plunk.

But……… doesn’t life always end with ker - plunk anyways? I’m going out having fun. Still, a dream of mine.. Tatoo.. “down there” somewhere.. Vely small.. Simply saying “morticians suck.” You gotta (still) attack ‘youthful crap‘, in spite of ker - plunk. Now whereinthehell is my ball glove, we’ve got practice soon.

Love, Victurd.

A preachment, dear friend

You are about to receive on John Barleycorn
Nicotine and the temptations of Eve

Victor, you’re always preaching. I thought you worked in transportation. Ahm, I do. It’s just that, I love life - so, figure I could preach a bit on it, then mebbe some of it it’ll rub off, fetch to my brain somewhere…

No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out

Embrace. Likes that word. Of course there’s the embrace of “oh baby oh baby” and who doesn’t love that one…

To take or clasp in the arms; press to the bosom; hug. Oh hell yeah. Long lost friend. Every day friend. Partner. Coworker. Family member. Someone down. Someone up. A moment of simple feel good.

Hangin' from a pine tree by my knees
Sun is shinin' through the shade
Nobody knows what its all about
It's too much, man, let it all hang out

To take or receive gladly or eagerly; accept willingly: to embrace an idea. Teamwork. Camaraderie. Let’s go, do. Yeah, I like that. Good idea. When can we start. Concert? Party in the basement? Picnic at the park? Blues festival? Backyard BBQ? Hell yeah.

Saw a man walkin' upside down
My T.V.s on the blink
Made Galileo look like a Boy Scout
Sorry 'bout that, let it all hang out

To take in with the eye or the mind. Pardon a mai my French, but fuckin’ A Ray. Embrace the moment. A little league game. The hound running to you. Seeing people having fun. Catching a friend in their fun, in their shining, in their snorting. The camera of the brain. Pics filed away fo’er and ‘er.

Sleep all day, drive all night
Brain my numb, can't stop now
For sure ain't no doubt
Keep an open mind, let it all hang out

To encircle; surround; enclose. Grabbin’ that person’s attention, letting’ ‘em know, “hey, I likes you…. You’re fun… I’m glad to have met you.. You’re important to me… You help me smile, have feel goods in the tummy."

It's rainin' inside a big brown moon
How does that mess you baby up, leg
Eatin' a Reuben sandwich with sauerkraut
Don't stop now, baby, let it all hang out

Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out

Song, eh, I dunno. I kinda liked the beginning - announcing the preachment. Parts of it probably don’t work. Tis ok, I'm all about nonsensical sometimes. It’s me it’s me, it’s Ernest T, sorry. I LOVE embrace. And I strive every day to let it all hang out.

Thank you hombres. Love, Victurd.

Broke……

Interesting word. The obvious: ain’t gots no money. Victor, that’s a double negative, kinda-sorta. Sorry, when in the position of being broke, linguistic rules go out the window.

He broke his arm. She broke her finger playing volleyball. The child was crying because his toy broke. He broke in the horse. As day broke….

Hard up. Lacking funds. Bankrupt. Being currently (but not necessarily permanently) out of money. Break a leg. Go for broke. If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it.

I Googled broke. Then ‘broke stories’. Twas a religious site – and they’d had a contest urging folks to share their broke stories. Winner – family of hubby/wife-4 snotnoses, hubby found a great job… life was good.. a year later, the company lost all their government contracts… soon jobless..

A bit later, homeless.. no family close, urged kids to go live with grandparents temporarily.. didn’t’ wanna.. With a loan from mama’s mama, they purchased a 3 room tent, camping gear – and made a life of it at a Park --- $23 a night.. .

Soon this too became too expensive – so – found new campground at eleven bucks a night. “Yes, we were homeless, but we swam, barbecued, nature walked, and enjoyed the peacefulness of being together the entire 45 days we were there. I have to admit that we haven’t been camping since, but we talk about it fondly even now.”

Broke. Broke wind. Brokeback Mountain. Ewww. I will be cursed to hear Ned Beatty’s squeal until the day I buy the farm whenever spooky stuff like that surfaces.

Email from lady on an online dating website. I hope she won’t shoot me for quoting.. “I've been married twice also, but don't regret getting divorced. I wouldn't want to be married to either one of them today. Not that I have anything against marriage. I always thought I would marry a great guy. We would work hard to build a life and love and care for each other. I however, have a ‘broken picker’ and have always in the past picked out a really bad match for myself.”

A ‘broken picker’. I loved that. In some respects, I think I do too. Sure, takes two to tango – and I know there’s certainly fault from Mr. Victor on past marriages being ‘broken’. But.. dadburnit, when I say “till death do us part” I do mean it. Never broke that one.

Sister had a broken picker. Biased, but, onea the most wonderful, radiant, fun, attractive gals you ever laid eyes on. Bad picker. Broken.

Break. Break away. Break down. Break in. Break off. Break out. Break through. Break up. Broken. Heart broken. Broken arrow. Broke a sweat. Tom Brokow. Broke bread. Broke camp.

Victor, I feel another story coming about when you carried mail in the poorest, brokest portion of Kansas City. Yeah, mebbe. Like the homeless campers, broke doesn’t have to mean unhappy. Weeks – walked past this home.. very, very obviously poor family. Two senior citizens. Frequently sitting on the porch. Tattered clothing. Permanent smiles. Happiness. Didn’t have two pennies to rub together. Broke. Starta spring – walking by one day – lady tapped me on shoulder.. Handed me an entire flat of plants they’d started. “For me?”.. “YES!” she said merrily. Nice. Broke, but happy.

That’s it. Done. Finito. Silence broken, but story over. Enjoy the day. Hope you ain’t broke – but.. if u are, (I know ya know) you can be happy. No funny endings, sorry. Other stuff broke my train of thought. Ah St. Patty’s day upcoming. YEAH! My beloved mother’s birthday. Fun. Those were fun days. Spring. Green. Broke – still.. life’s a blast. Happy happy, love Victurd.

Of potholes and drizzles…

PATOOEY! That’s what this timea year is, rotten! We slipped, slid, shivered through winter - tithed to the Gas Service company - had a momentary snippet of Spring - then… more PATOOEY!

Victor, you seem to be rather whiny today. I’M A PEOPLE PERSON FOR BEHOOGITY SAKES! Nah, I was drinking my fitty-nine cent Senior coffee at Mickey D’s, people watching, reading about how good KU is (patooey)… got in my car.. Steered to the Piggly Wiggly for more people watching.. Sudoku (I’m an addict).. And I thought to myself “ya know, this timea year is really patooey.”

Potholes everywhere - I think I hurt my hip again going over one.. The ground is yucky moist.. The grass is drab brown.. And the rain is, uncomfy.

At work the other day… very similar day.. After summation of two and one half hours listening to my almost all female coworkers, I blurted “this weather puts you guys in a bad mood.” (It’s ok, they know I tease, shoot rubber bands, send stupid emails, tongue mostly in cheek.)

Hammer. He’s a Mr. Fix It at the office. If it’s broke, he can do it. If it’s a copy machine, he’s got the fixers on speed dial. That day, the day THEY were in a bad mood.. A couple of ‘em were top-of-the-lungs talking about some work diddy over the cubicle walls.. I picked up the phone, dialed my own extension of course, and yelled “HAMMER, come get all these damn phones, the ladies here never use ‘em anyways.” I received a total of seven wadded up pieces of paper on that one. I love what I do, who I do it with.

Ain’t real sure I could live at a place like, say Belize, year round. I think I’d have to really work at having a good attitude if the weather were nice all the time. I kinda love (don’t tell) this patooey period we must suffer thru - as I very much look forward to going to the Piggly in shorts/t-shirt/sandals. I actually kinda enjoy mowing the yard… And Sunday nights at the softball field.. Ah, yes.. Five hours of fun, and that even includes one hour of playing!

We’re on the upslope of The Mamba. Exhilaration ahead. Koolaid koolaid, tastes great, wish I had some, can’t wait!

If you happen to be reading this at 11am, Sunday, 3/14.. Ya dumbass you. You forgot to “Spring Forward” and when you drove to church you realized “Oh crap, I’m an hour late, I can’t walk in now.” Hehe.

I’ll be back in a bit. Gonna go sit, stare out the window at the brown. The rain. The gray sky. (How come gray is spelled that way now.. When we were whippersnappers, I swear it was grEy.) Gonna close my eyes, and in baited anticipation, await the titillating whoooooosh once the Mamba finally finally really really hits Spring.

Play Ball. Yer out. Home run. Has nothing to do with women/cleavage, honest, I just enjoy the warmer temps. People smile more in nice weather. We who have the seasons are fortunate in that we have come to really really appreciate “the good.”

Farm out. Love, Victurd.

Life is a highway….

Life's like a road that you travel on
When there's one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

My 401K is minuscule. A tradeoff. I’ve “lived fun.” Done way too many a thing to make a buck – but, it’s been my highway. I did it my way.

There's a world outside every darkened Door
Where blues won't haunt you anymore
Where the brave are free and lovers soar
Come ride with me to the distant shore

Once dealt craps at a Casino. Buddya mine asked “do you like it?”.. “It’s like going to work at a party.” And damn near every job I’ve had has been that – like going to work at a party.

We won't hesitate break down the garden gate
There's not much left today

As a kid, once painted outbuildings for rich guy that owned tons of property that was soon to be sold to build Interstate 435 which would eventually circle the city. Painting one blue.. left for lunch.. came back.. cows had gotten into our paint. Oh chit. Fun. Funny. So, we, doing what kids would do – painted ourselves as well. Ahm, we even had “blue balls.” Life is a highway, I did it my way.

Life is a highway
I want to ride it all night long
If you're going my way
I want to drive it all night long

Through all the cities and all these towns
It's in my blood and it's all around
I love you now like I loved you then
This is the road and these are the hands

Airline work – the 80’s.. Geez Louise. Work softball team. Most work softball teams gather at the local fields, have a brew, play a game, have a brew – go home. Not us. “Where we playing this weekend?” Phoenix. Cool. Next? Vegas. I chit u not we traveled each and every weekend to a different city to play in airline worker tourneys. Life is a highway.

From mozambique to those memphis nights
The khyber pass to vancouver's lights
Knock me down get back up again
You're in my blood I'm not a lonely man

Employee nights at the Royals, at the Woodlands. At the casino. A sport’s talk trivia show. Corporate Challenge. Fun. Small 401K, large returns otherwise. I’ve always gone to work at a party. Life is a highway – I did it my way.

There's no load I can't hold
Road so rough this I know
I'll bee there when the light comes in
Tell 'em we're survivors

Owned own business. Work wasn’t work – it was cha-ching. Cha-ching was fun. Dressed how I wanted. Went in when I wanted, ‘worked’ as long as I wanted. Daily fun banter exchanges with same ole guys. Stop for a beer, if I wanted. Overtip, if I wanted. Life is a highway.

There was a distance between you and I
A misunderstanding once but now
We look it in the eye

There's no load I can't hold
Road so rough this I know
I'll be there when the light comes in
Tell 'em we're survivors

As age has happened, perhaps not quite the runner I usedta be. So, now instead, gotta be creative in finding ‘fun’. Rubberbands are easy. Co-workers know where they came from. Don’t care. I’m getting better and better with aim.

Stupid stuff like.. just before the MU-KU basketball game… sending an email to our HR Director entitled “HR ideas I’ve been thinking of for our company.. done at home with old tape recorder, please turn up sound.”.. He did. He heap big Jayhawk fan. Attached, wasn’t HR related. Twas the MU Fight song. Life is a highway, I did it my way.. all night (life) long.

When I die, dunno if dust or casket. Just know this – please don’t frown/fret. I’m there with smile – as that’s how I’ve lived my entire life. Life is a highway, I did it my way, all night (life) long.

The end. Love, Victurd.

Nothing…

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin'
If you wanna be with me
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin'
If you wanna be with me

Whaddaya doin’? Nothin’… You? Nah, me neither.

What’d you do last weekend.. nuttin’… u? Yeah, sucks eh?

Nothing – to not say anything. No part, share, or trace. Something that is nonexistent. Found that definition online. “Something that is nonexistent.” Ain’t that kinda au contraire? How can nothing be something?

Nothing from nine leaves nine. Nothing. A person of little or no importance; a nobody. To who? Could mean everything to someone. Back in the day (oh chit, here we go again).. ahem.. back in the day, I usedta deliver mail in the absolute poorest area of Kansas City.. Many would say “nothings” live there. Once again, au contraire. Many a happy folk. Didn’t need ‘stuff’.. got by on, little or nothing. Vely happy.

I'm not tryin' to be your hero
'Cause that zero is too cold for me, Brrr
I'm not tryin' to be your highness
'Cause that minus is too low to see, yeah

Amounting to nothing, as in offering no prospects for satisfaction, advancement or the like.. She was stuck in a nothing job. Oh yeah? Well, lotta people shine in nothing jobs. Lotta people are HAPPY in nothing jobs. I’m not liking nothing about what I’m reading about nothing. Nothing makes sense, or, doesn’t, onea the two.

For nothing. Now that one I like. Free of charge. In nothing flat. Nothing but… we could see nothing but fog.

Whisper sweet nothings in her ear. There we go again, nothings being something.

There are times – I simply enjoy doing a whole lotta nothing. Victor, how can you “do” nothing? You know what I mean.. stuff that ain’t necessarily productive.. like Sudoku.. or reading online.. surfing.. killing time here.. doing nothing.

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
And I'm not stuffin'
Believe you me
Don't you remember I told ya
I'm a soldier in the war on poverty, yeah
Yes, I am

Room 222. Ifn’s ur old, you might remember it. I think I’ve blogged this before, sorry. Was mass chaos in Principal’s office. Kids flitting here, teachers moving there. Noisy. Could hear nothing in a personal conversation due to all the noise/chaos. Principal looks around… says.. “I’ll never forget April 22nd..”… Teacher looks at him quizzically.. “Why? What happened April 22nd?”… “Nothing… absolutely nothing.”

She had nothing on top. He had a lil’ one, not mucha nuttin.

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin'
If you wanna be with me
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin'
If you wanna be with me

Getting ready to take on day. Been doing a whole lotta nothing. Nothing planned after work. Nothing in billfold. Nothing in gas tank. Nothing outta the ordinary.

You gotta have somethin'
If you wanna be with me
You gotta bring me somethin' girl
If you wanna be with me

Guilty looks on kid’s faces. “WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?”.. “nothing.” Uh huh, sure. Nothing is very interesting. Is that possible? “I know nothing, I see nothing” the beloved Sgt. Schultze…

Nothing would please me more… Nothing that is worth knowing can be taught. I love talking about nothing, it’s the only thing I know anything about. In the arithmetic of love, one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing.

That’s me. Quite happy in my nothing. Many would say “nothing” job. No chance for advancement. I likes it. I’m enjoying the ride out. No noises at home, nothing. That’s not true – cat hasn’t been neutered, he bitches about nothing, and everything. Nothing is permanent.

Enough about nothing. Two pages on nothing. Nothing within really. Eh, tis cool. I leave whispering sweet nothings in your ear – whatever those are. Do deaf people sign sweet nothings? Not makin’ fun, just wonder. Very little offends me.. Not nothing, but very little. Victor, I believe that’s a double negative. Rules? We ain’t got no rules here.

Much ado about nothing. Sorry. Love, Victurd

Me and my quadriceps femoris ain’t on speakin’ terms…

Sometime in August, last year. Old man’s softball. Dunno how it happened. Happens as one ages. Forget. Can’t remember any exact play, slide, twist, turn. Injured hip. Justification to drive RIGHT past the Community Center nightly - where I was once a familiar, damn near daily, face.

Hip better by late October. Kept driving past that sucker. Forgot. Forgot to stop. Remember the $23 a month they take out automatically, but I milked a two month injury into seven months.

Soooo.. With Daylight Savings time upcoming, hopefully warmer days, Corporate Challenge, softball - and yes, thanks to the belly that is begging me to go out and buy 38x30’s, having pushed the 36x30’s to the limit - I went back to working out. Am I the only one in America that sweats, groans, fights, gets channel locks out to FINALLY get that waist button in the hole, giving it my best “I’ll be DAMNED if I’m gonna buy the next size up”?

Thirty minutes on the elliptical.. A trip to the sauna, then the Jacuzzi - aha, not too bad. Next day, HEY, it’s fitty degrees. We ain’t seen fitty degrees since… since… I forget. Happens as one ages.

“I know, I’ll go to the High School track, sprint the straightaways and jog the curves.” Uh huh, sure Victor. Bridge/Florida. Gal that usedta play basketball for me years ago. Couple years my junior. Still, classifies her as old today. See her damn near every day in my commute to work on the lonely 3-mile stretch that leads to Interstate. “Jogging.” Truth be known, she ain’t. She’s doing what I would call “fast-walk”.. It’s kinda sad to see age/deterioration over the years, but you can see it in her “running.”

Soooooooo… I await the snotnoses finishing track practice, then the track is mine, all mine. Bruce Jenner, move over, here I come. Stretch, try to look like I know whatthehehell I’m doing - and “HE’S OFF!”.. Wow, long time no run. As I made my way down the straightaway, I peeked at the empty bleachers to my right. Had they been filled, there woulda been great laughter.. “Look at that old geezer… he thinks he’s sprinting… HE’S FAST WALKING! HA HA HA HA HA!”..

Right. I was. Ok, so maybe I’ll jog the straightaways and walk the curves….. Hey, I’m still moving. 3 miles, by God I’m doing three miles. Shortly after lap one, hear church bells chime 6pm.. Ok, I’ll do this until I hear it go off at that half hour. NO, by God, you're doing 3 miles. K. Whatever you say inner motivation person.

Lap number 3... A couple of snotnoses return and go the the long jump pit. Now, this Corporate Challenge thing, I saw they have the long jump. I usedta do that, long ago. Could I still? I peeked at last year’s results - and whilst they didn’t have an over fitty age group, they did have an over 40. Eighteen feet was the winner… Hmmmm.. How far could I jump? HEY, six feet was last place. Hell, I can do that. So, I glanced over at the long jump thingy.. Shee-it, if one “fast-walks” insteada actually running, I might not make six feet. Oh well.

Damn it’s cold (lap 5) maybe I’ll just do a mile anda half. NO, by God, you’re doing three miles. This is starting to hurt (laps 7, 8, 9).. I SAID 3 MILES!.. Sometimes, evil wins out, and after completing my 10th lap (2 and ½ miles) I headed for my friendly van to drive home.

Next day. I couldn’t move. Hadta pee, but didn’t wanna get up. Knew I couldn’t stay in bed, so made a hideous trek to squatter. Ouch. Damn. I HATE AGING. I don’t wanna go to work. Victor, it’s friggin March, you’ll be outta sick leave before summer if you keep this up. Oh ok. Went. Hurt. Ginger. Sat fatass in chair, even skipped a few smoke breaks - VERY unusual for me. Cussing my quadriceps femoris.

Driving home that night… You ARE turning into the gym. You’re at 209. Not as bad as you thought, but you’re a 38”, 36” wanna be. Turn. Evil won again. Besides, my buddies truck was at the watering hole where we go. It’ll be ok. Beer will help forget the muscle pain.

Saturday, two days after my “fast-walk” experience. To gym. YES, good job Victor! Huh uh, there only for the Jacuzzi. I still hurt. Up walks onea the most shapely ladies I’d seen in a long time. Could tell from face “notta kid”, but dayum she had the body of a 20-something, pre-childbearing, pre 800 trips for Happy Meals.. She was drop dead gorgeous. Japanese lady.

Conversation. “I run marathons.” She-it. I couldn’t tell the 2 and a half mile story.. How can I brag when I run 1/13 as far as her. “Well, I’m fitty-seven, and I still play softball.” THAT’S GREAT.. I’m 65, and I’m supposed to run in the Boston Marathon this year. Shee-it. SIXTY-FIVE? Honest, she didn’t look a day past 40, and her body a day past 20. “YOU LOOK WONDERFUL!” I blurted before I realized how pathetically “come-on” that might sound.

“YOU TOO!” she countered. Aha, I knew too good to be true. Bitch can’t see. She told me her name, and that she’d finished 2nd in a local race… I went home, looked it up online, yep, right there she was. WELL, I PLAYED HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL.. And I STILL play softball.. Yes Victor, but now you “Fast-walk”. Sadly, true, I do.

Later that day I returned to the gym. Did. Worked out s’more. Not quite as angry with my thigh muscles - so mebbe one day real soon I shall return to the track. Goal of 11 laps now. Might even sneak over the long jump pit for some fast-walking-jumping. Six feet… I can do that…….. Can’t I?

Fe fe fi fi fo fo fum
I smell smoke in the auditorium
Ole Victurd, Ole Victurd
He's a clown, that Ole Victurd..
He's gonna get caught, just you wait and see
(Why's everybody always pickin' on me?)

Yours in fast-walking, love, Victurd.

Sorry, it’s too late……..

Huh? The hell you talking about? You… Me… Things we said “I’ve always wanted to _______.” Too late, can’t. Too old. Don’t have the money now. Too far. Too many steps. Not enough time. We can’t. Are you crazy? Do that? NOW?

Visiting with a coworker yesterday. Very nice, smart lady. Was talking about her kid’s sports.. Maybe somewhat teasingly bemoaning the time involved with it all. Old guy (uh huh) chimed in “Oh, but, please.. Enjoy these times for they’re gone in a flash.” “Good, I can’t wait… get ‘em outta here.. I’ll get me a dog.”

She was teasing…….. I think.. Point being though, we take crap for granted. Good crap. We don’t take in a deep breath and say to ourself “Geez my life is a camera.. I couldn’t thinka any other place on the planet I’d rather be than right here, in the here and now.”

She laughed when she told me about the wanting a dog.. And I know it was facetious.. So I shared an email I got yesterday with her… “If you locked a wife and a dog in the trunk for an hour, which one would be glad to see you when you opened it?”.. Hehe.. Liked.

Victor, you talked “too late” then you started rambling, got off course like you always do. Oh, yeah. That. You see, I’m old. I’ve done a lot - but there’s so, so much more I would like to do/have done - but many things, it’s too late. We go on living, putting dreams, wants, whims, on the back burner - then, ‘afor ya know it, we’re too old, can’t reach the back burner.. Ain’t got enough funds, energy, time…maybe ain’t even gotta partner.

Cruise to Alaska? Make it happen. Salsa lessons? Get out the phone book. Volunteer in Africa? Ask around at church. Kid in sports? Take pictures. Keep your mind there. Look around, SEE. REMEMBER IT. ENGULF yourself in it.

I say screw bucket lists. Do ‘em. Live ‘em. Ok, writing down wants is cool, but damnit, make it happen - for one day it will be too late. When one is young, moves swiftly, anywhere/any way you wanna - tis hard to think of the day coming when that no longer is true. Trust me, it’ll happen. And it comes fast.

So I vote - visualize that want. Talk about it. Learn about it. See yourself doing that want. Then, take whatever steps need to happen to make it happen. Or, it’ll be too late.

House at the lake? Fast forward to poor savings and being fitty-seven, never gonna happen. If you’re 23, and you want it… hell yeah - plan. Then one day - do/have. Tired of being an accountant, wanna teach? DO IT. One day, too late. Not practical? Screw that, work a 2nd job tending a motel front desk. Suffer a tad for jubilation later. Later comes, but if no plan, later simply happens and the wants float on down the river.

“If I’da known then what I know now.” Screw that statement. It’s within all of us. Some have the gettyup and go, some ain’t.

I’d grade my life of ‘wants’ about a C. I suffered some financially ‘cause I found myself in jobs I didn’t wanna be in - so I vamoosed. Sure, got the regrets now of no huge 401K - but along the way I’ve met so many nice folks, enjoyed going to work every day - many trade offs for not having the almighty dollars.

Lot of things I wanted to do and didn’t, and perhaps even sadder - many things I DID do, didn’t realize how lucky I was at the time - and took the hours for granted.

I’m leaving now ‘cause I’m even boring myself. Main points. Dare. Do. And when you do, take pictures with the brain. Enjoy. Immerse. Realize how lucky you are to be doing that want.

That’s it. That’s all folks. Before it’s too late. Love, Victurd.