Sunday, April 10, 2022

Meeting Someone after Fifty Years

They don't teach you how to do this in school. 

My friend Gary and I attended grammar school together in Skokie, Illinois, a northern Chicago suburb. We attended two years of high school at Notre Dame High School in Niles, played football together, then enlisted in the Marines and completed boot camp together.

Then fell out of touch.

A few days ago we met for the first time in 48 years. (Fifty sounds better for a title.)

Body builder and super athlete, Gary had taken a health beating the last ten years. This included a brain embolism with subsequent induced coma and, a few years later, a massive stroke and heart attack. The general outline of Gary remained the same, but his once muscular frame had shrunk.

(Not that I'm any beauty. )

I stayed at his place in Phoenix. We watched the Masters and traded gruesome health tales, talked of our families, and our plans, and, of course, the past. But the key element was that the old days were not the focal point. In other words, our friendship had survived the decades. We were comfortable discussing the present and future. It doesn't always go like that. 

We'd been roughed up by the decades. But, in some ways, we'd never ceased being who we'd been.  

And it's hot in Phoenix. But I already knew that.

From left to right: Gary, myself and two other guys at Camp Pendleton.

Monday, March 21, 2022

Falling While Running

I'm good at it. I have the knack. However, not since marathon training last fall have I sustained a tumble. And not since 2019 have I banged myself up so neatly.

Running two miles uphill on asphalt, I elected to tackle a substantial hill along narrow walking trails. Lizards scuttled out of my way. But it didn't take long to note that the trail was covered in scree—small rocks—over more substantial rocks. My shoes were not designed for trail running. Slipping, I scrambled up a 40 degree slope realizing I'd need to return the same way on a surface without much purchase.

Rising up before me was a sixty degree slope. I turned around. 

Too late.

The way back down was like roller skating on plexiglass. You couldn't slow down. At one point, I felt myself accelerating. Seconds away from losing control and landing on rocks, I chose the lessor of two hurtful evils: I feel into the chaparral. The tangled thorny bushes cushioned my fall but left me with the interesting markings displayed below.

No more unknown dirt trails.

Can't really see the scrape too well. It's just above the knee.

Here is a charming bouquet of wounds.


Saturday, March 12, 2022

Alternatives To DuckDuck Go

 Alas, the censoring disease has infected DuckDuck Go.  I liked this search engine for the very fact that they WEREN'T shadow banning, censoring, or down ranking information based on mercurial criteria such as "disinformation." I'm old enough. I can find out news for myself.

 And so I depart. My next port-of-call will probably be Brave. But alternative browser/search engines are available:

Brave https://brave.com/, Startpage https://www.startpage.com/, GIBIRU https://tinyurl.com/ymu4hrwb, Swisscows https://swisscows.com/?culture=en, Bitclave https://www.bitclave.com/, Qwant https://www.qwant.com/, Descrete Search https://www.discretesearch.com/.

For a comprehensive list, try this master site.

Saturday, March 05, 2022

Prostate Cancer: Real Talk Ep. 10

 Vitamin D deficiency could be one of the culprits in a higher percentage of black men suffering from prostate cancer. Doctor Adam B. Murphy is currently studying the issue in this edition, hosted by husband/wife team El and Shay.

Saturday, February 26, 2022

A Cheery Poem on Aging and Opportunity Squandered



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The Tragedy of the Leaves

by Charles Bukowski

I awakened to dryness and the ferns were dead, 
the potted plants yellow as corn; 
my woman was gone 
and the empty bottles like bled corpses 
surrounded me with their uselessness;  
the sun was still good, though,  
and my landlady's note cracked in fine and 
undemanding yellowness; what was needed now 
was a good comedian, ancient style, a jester 
with jokes upon absurd pain; pain is absurd 
because it exists, nothing more; 
I shaved carefully with an old razor 
the man who had once been young and 
said to have genius; but 
that's the tragedy of the leaves, 
the dead ferns, the dead plants; 
and I walked into a dark hall 
where the landlady stood 
execrating and final, 
sending me to hell, 
waving her fat, sweaty arms 
and screaming 
screaming for rent 
because the world had failed us 
both.

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