A PIRATE LOOKS AT DYING

RIP Jimmy Buffett...

THE CLOSET DOOR

I know if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's supposed to be a duck, but I've spent my entire life on the back side of the closet door because... well hell, I guess I did it because being an atheist isn't a popular thing to be and I always seem to go against the flow challenging anything in my way or that smells like bullshit. There I said it! I've finally came out of the closet. I'm a heathen through and through!

If I were a Christian, I'd really be pissed off at God. I mean, here sits this omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent perfectly benevolent being doing what? Definitely not being all-powerful, all-knowing and all present! Oh yeah! That's right! We, the imperfect sinners were given free will so we can royally screw things up. I guess that's where faith is supposed to factor into the whole equation. Suffer now and get rewarded later? Be a good, faithful follower and the best one can hope for is to watch people around us suffer and die. Lead a good life and never know when it's all going to end or be taken away in some dreadful flash.

And the hereafter? I'm sorry, but I don't want to spend my eternity singing and playing harps with angels. I think this is where one might insert a puke face emoji! I don't want to reach a state of perfection when there's nothing more to strive for... I don't want to be reunited with people who irritated the crap out of me during my brief tenure on this earth. Nope, I prefer to believe I'll become part of the vast cosmos eventually.

The first law of thermodynamics states (here she goes getting all quantum and acting like she actually knows something) that energy can be changed from one form to another, but cannot be created nor destroyed. IF science has it right then my life force will simply transform into some other "energy" at the moment of my death. Perhaps it's like water becoming ice or steam depending on whether heat or cold is applied to it. It's still water, but in a different form. It looks different. It has different properties, but it's still just water. I'd rather believe that someday I may be particles of stardust floating throughout the universe and perhaps, if I'm lucky my particles will find their way to some newly forming planet or star. How groovy would that be? (Did she really use the word "groovy?)

Since I have free will, I choose not to buy into an ageless god who has sat back watching our world decline and has done nothing to intercede on its behalf. I don't want to believe in a creature who would allow horrible things to happen to good people. I detest any being who allows wars to be fought in his/her name and who shines a glorified light on the self-righteous who judge others and who claims their way is the only way to some afterlife paradise. 

Nope! I just don't buy it. I'm a show me type of person and unless I see some grand stand miracle, I'm going to live out the rest of my life believing life is just life and nothing more. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people and sometimes good things happen to good people, but bad things don't happen often enough to bad people (I think that one needs to go in the suggestion box). Who ever said life is fair or just? Life is life! It's a short ride filled with many surprises...some good, some bad. And if I'm wrong, well, I'm sure I have many people praying for me and my willful ignorance. Maybe their God, will want to keep me around for awhile for a few giggles and grins!

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful the closet door is ALWAYS unlocked and easy to open!

FOREVER YOUNG

Repost from 2011 and edited:

From the time we're small children we're taught that growing old is something to be feared, dreaded and avoided at all costs. Just look at what advertising is geared towards! No wonder so may people go through severe upheavals as they reach middle age and start to show signs of wear and tear.

Vanity tells us that as our outer beauty fades we become less desirable in many ways. We see the fate of the elderly and know that someday we will sit where they are. As we furiously diet and exercise to stay fit, is our strife solely for health purposes or is it just a feeble attempt to hold onto our vanishing youth a little longer? Are the botox injections, breast implants or cosmetic surgery another step closer to the fountain of youth or something that society pressures us into considering as a desired partner in the aging process to help us through the mid-life vanity crisis?

Should we focus on the outer beauty and struggle to stay youthful or should we concentrate on the inner beauty and wisdom that comes with age? Shouldn’t we be able to know and feel good that within each of us is the same person we were years ago without feeling self-conscious that the physical part changes? I think I’ll stick with the philosophy "aging is inevitable, but growing old is optional…" That way I can just do whatever feels right for me regarding gray hair and wrinkles, but at 35, I have a few more years before I have to worry about my fading youth. I'm glad to see my sense of humor hasn't declined as my waistline has thickened and my hair has thinned and gotten white along with the myriad complexities of growing older.

This is yours truly at 67. My daughter took this photo of me being my normal goofy self at the Beyond Van Gogh, The Immersive Experience this past Saturday August 12, 2023. I look at it and still see the person I was many years ago and to me, that's a wonderful thing.

LIVING WITH CHRONIC PAIN

For the past 20+ years I've lived with chronic pain. Now, I'm faced with having a few new additional pains added to all my other "normal" ones. Several months ago I injured my left shoulder doing yardwork. When the injury happened I knew immediately that I had done something to it, but failed to get it examined until November which was several months after the injury. My rheumatalogist order X-rays of both shoulders and an MRI of my right shoulder. I didn't realize until I went to get the MRI done that the order for the MRI was for the wrong shoulder. The facility wouldn't call my doctor and get a verbal change to the order, so I just went ahead and had an MRI done on my right shoulder.

Shortly after that I got an appointment with my primary care doctor because getting back into see my rheumatologist on short notice isn't an easy feat to accomplish. My primary care ordered a MRI for my left shoulder which revealed a complete tear of my rotator cuff, bone spurs and something wrong with my biceps. After jumping through all the necessary red tape to get cleared for surgery, my surgery was finally scheduled for February 20th. The results of the MRI on my right shoulder revealed tears in my right shoulderas as well.

Yesterday, my surgeon's office called to tell me that my surgery has to be postoned until April 3rd. This delay is due to the biologic (Skyrizi) I take for Psoriatic Arthritis. According to my rheumatologist surgery can safely be done 13 weeks after my last shot. Needless, to say I'm bummed out that the surgery had to be postponed. I was actually looking forward to putting it in my rear view mirror so I could address the other shoulder.

Chronic pain can be one of the most difficult things to accept and learn to live with daily. It can be a constant reminder of our physical limitations, making it hard to stay motivated and keep up with our daily lives and relationships. Pain can also affect our mental and emotional health, creating a downward spiral of depression and exhaustion. Fortunately, there are strategies we can use to help us accept our physical limitations and learn to live with pain. 

It's important to be aware of the signals your body is giving you and listen to them. I failed to do this initially when I first injured my shoulder. I tried to power through it hoping whatever was wrong would eventually heal and go away. It didn't! If you're feeling pain, don't try to push through it. Doing so can lead to further physical damage and more chronic pain. Instead, take a break and find out what is causing the pain. Pay attention to feelings of fatigue or low energy, as these can signal an underlying health condition or depression. Also, monitor your mood and be mindful of your reactions to stress or changes in your environment.

When listening to your body, pay attention to the little things that bring you happiness. Take time to relax, try something new, or just spend time with loved ones. These activities can bring joy into your life and give you energy. Achieving balance between your physical and emotional needs can help you better understand and accept your physical limitations. Connecting with yourself and your emotions will allow you to assess how different activities affect your energy levels and happiness. This may help you become more mindful of any potential triggers for depression or other mental health issues.

Additionally, staying active even if only for short periods of time will boost your energy levels and help keep depression at bay. Taking care of yourself in small ways each day such as going for a walk or reading a book can also contribute to overall happiness. Finally, seeking support from friends, family members, or healthcare professionals can make all the difference when trying to cope with physical limitations. Surrounding yourself with positive people who are understanding of your situation can help you stay motivated and supported during difficult times. 

THE CATS WHO LOVED ME

*Repost from November 3, 2014

From early childhood to present day I've always been a cat lover.  And over the course of my life, I’ve owned a variety of breeds. Since 1994 Himalayans have most graciously allowed me the privilege of living in the house with them and feeding them. I often told people they ate better than I did because the cat food they consumed is Science Diet @ more than $30 per bag. If you aren't familiar with the breed, Himalayans have Siamese markings called “points” and like Siamese cats, they're highly intelligent, have a melodious voice and beautiful blue eyes, but they unlike a Siamese cat their bodies and fur were of a Persian cat.  Although a lot of Himalayans have a face that look smooshed, my cats didn't carry that extreme characteristic.  A few characteristics I've always found to be fascinating with this breed is their love to pose and their need to act regal in all situations.   

This breed is not overly active, but they do like to play and be involved in whatever activity I'm doing. For example during my computer time, I always had company nestled around me in various spots. Draped on the tower when I owned a desktop computer, positioned on the stool next to my desk, strategically positioned on top of the printer and on the back of the sofa positioned behind where I sat, they all found a spot to best “help” me type.  Not only did they assist me at the computer, but they scrutinized all my activities and followed me from room to room. I had about a two minute window of time to return if I left before they'd seek me out where ever I was. If I went to the bathroom, they'd have to “bond” with me while I was in there. It was senseless for me to attempt having any privacy because they'd thump and cry at the door until I let them in. My bathroom time usually consists of grooming, petting and sweet talking them.  Too much togetherness just wasn't a concept any of them seemed to grasp. 

I first got involved with this breed in a breeder capacity. When my breeding days were over, I kept the mother and father along with two males from two different litters about a year apart from each other. My clan consisted of Dixie, a small tortie-point female, Beavis, a very large blue-point male and their two sons, Chewy, a large seal point male and Whitey (Dwight Cat), a beautiful flame point male who was a stereotypical "blonde" in every sense of the word.

Dixie was the resident schizophrenic who developed a strong dislike for her two sons who loved to aggravate her. When her space was invaded she lunged at the violator. The older she got the wider her personal space got.  It was comical to watch the males walk way out around her to avoid getting snapped at and/or bitten. Her "husband", Beavis was the only one she tolerated and allowed near her and although she appears to have a dislike for all other cats, she was always very affectionate towards humans and loved to talk to everyone and tell them about the horrible males she had to live with.  That sounds like a typical female to me! 

Beavis was a gentle giant with the softest little voice I’ve ever heard, yet his purr sounded like a loud motor boat. Beavis didn't need to be petted to purr. Sometimes merely looking at him or talking to him would trigger it. One of the funniest things Beavis would do is growl like a dog when someone would knock on the door or ring the doorbell.  He was definitely the Alpha male and at the very top of the pecking order in all feline matters.  He had a very gentle, loving demeanor, but about once a month he kicked ass to make sure everyone knew who was the boss!  What usually started out as him giving them a bath turned into a kitty wrestling match.  As soon as they'd tap out and show submission all would go back to normal until next time.  It was hilarious to watch 3 large tom cats give each other baths and no matter how old they got, Whitey remained the baby of the family and was treated as such by his entire family...humans included. 

Chewy (named after Chewbacca from Star Wars) reminded me of an Ewok not a Wookie when he was a kitten.  It didn't take him long to train me to his liking and he deemed himself “my cat”.  That position was his until the day he died from cancer.  He knew exactly how to get his point across and as long as I complied everything was all sunshine and rainbows. His loud voice freakishly resembled Chewbacca's voice. He did tricks like a dog and “flopped” on command.  Flopping consisted of falling over and landing with his head on my foot. The maneuver took skill and grace and was funny to watch.  Chewy never learned to purr until he was around 7 and when he finally did learn it was in an erratic, unnatural pattern.   It was something he never got the hang of doing, but that was okay because he after all was Chewy.

Whitey was the baby of the family and the cat Chewy picked out to keep. When Whitey was just a small kitten Chewy kept separating him from the other kittens as the time grew near to sell them.  He tended to Whitey like a mother cat would and never stopped mothering him even when he became an adult cat. Instead of selling Whitey, I kept him because that's what Chewy wanted and Chewy always got everything he wanted.  Whitey was very vocal from an early age and has a wide range of cries and noises he made. His most memorable sound sounded like he was saying “momma”.  This was cute except at 2 am when he got on a rant and would tear through the house running upstairs and downstairs crying for “momma”. Whitey also loved to be “spanked” and talked while he received a spanking.  His favorite "spank me, baby" tool was the back scratcher I keep on my desk.  I would gently spank him and he would tell me all about it with such fervor.

Last night, Whitey passed away at the age of 18.  His mother, father and brother who had died several years ago had been cremated and their ashes had been stored in my closet until they were all buried together early this morning.  

Gratitude Statement: Yes, I'm extremely sad right now, but I feel blessed because these four filled my life with such love and joy for so many years.  They are and always shall be the cats who loved me. 

WAR IS HELL

I've never written much about the military. It's not because I'm anti-military. Yes, I've been known to protest a war or two in my younger years, but NEVER the military. One can be against a war campaign, yet still be patriotic and be in favor of having a strong military.  My problem has always been with the politics behind the wars and the needless loss of life. These things have to be closely dissected in order to be completely understood.  Let's face it, politicians can be a pack of deceitful losers and suckers themselves and they get us involved in all sorts of shady things that we'd we better off leaving at the front door.  Do weapons of mass destruction ring a bell? What a costly mistake that was!

All three of my older brothers proudly served in the military and I thank each of them for their service to this country.  My father served during WWII in the South Pacific, but I'm afraid his service included more shenanigans than it did service. His father served in WWI, but I know very little about that side of my family, so I don't know anything about the capacity in which he served, but I don't think he served overseas. I have an uncle who was in the 1942 Battle of Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands in the Pacific Ocean during WWII.  He was on USS Barton, a destroyer that was cut completely in half by the Japanese.  My great uncle, Waldo "Wardie" Ingalls was one of the "losers" who survived that horrific battle. Forty-five years later my great uncle was laid to rest in 1987 at the age of 69.

As the story goes:

At approximately 1:30 am, both sides finally made visual contact with each other as the first Japanese ships emerged from the squall line only 3,000 yards away from the entire US formation. Despite the Americans having steamed directly into the middle of the Japanese force, neither side opened fire for almost ten minutes as they passed by each other, with the Japanese ships enveloping the American battle column as they emerged from the darkness in three separate groups. In the second position of the rear, US Destroyer van USS Barton began to train her deck guns and torpedo tubes on several Japanese ships in her immediate area and awaited the order to open fire from the flagship. At 1:48 am the order to open fire was precluded when Akatsuki lit its searchlights onto the cruiser Atlanta, causing both sides to immediately open fire on each other and starting the First Naval Battle of Guadalcanal.

Now fully enveloped by Japanese battle lines, Barton and Monssen steaming astern, broke to the northwest into the main group of Japanese ships while firing at point blank range on nearby Japanese destroyers and making violent maneuvers to avoid collisions with both friendly and enemy ships in the melee. Barton had just fired a full spread of torpedoes at the battleship Hiei when the light cruiser USS Helena appeared suddenly out of the darkness and cut directly across the bow of Barton. Making an emergency stop to avoid colliding with Helena, Barton found herself at a dead stop as her engineering crew tried to get her engines back into gear to get her moving again. However, before she could get underway two 'Long Lance' torpedoes fired by the Amatsukaze slammed into the midsection of Barton; one in her boiler room and one in her engine room. The massive explosions broke the Barton in two, and both sections sank only minutes after the first torpedo struck, carrying with her 164 men: 13 officers and 151 of her crew. Forty-two survivors were rescued by USS Portland and twenty-six by Higgins boats from Guadalcanal.

I have another great uncle, John Nichols IV who served in World War II. His military story goes like this:

John went to 2 years of High School in Harrington, Maine before he shipped out as a Merchant Marine. He consigned on iron ore freighters in the Great Lakes before he journeyed on ships traveling back and forth to Europe, across the Atlantic Ocean, transporting war time supplies. His father encouraged him to stop shipping because merchant ships were war time targets, so he decided to join the US Army in December of 1943. He was sent to the Asiatic-Pacific Theatre. He was a Buck Sergeant, serving in the 24th Infantry Division where he was Squad leader in charge of 28 men operating 30 caliber Browning machine guns. He was awarded a Campaign Ribbon with Bronze Service Arrowhead, a Philippines Liberation Ribbon with Bronze Service Star, a Good Conduct Medal, a Victory Metal, a Combat Infantryman Badge, an American Campaign Ribbon and 2 Purple Hearts during his service. John eventually received a Red Cross early discharge in 1946, because his father was dying.

May both men RIP along with all their other fallen comrades and may the United States always have a strong military manned by people willing to serve proudly for our country.