Once again, this is written ahead of time. I will try to work in the keyword. I hope! (It's DEFINE.)
Recently (well, two days ago) I was told, "It's OK. You can let go. You'll be better off. You've lived a long life."
Very true...from a certain perspective.
But in watching Ken Burns' PBS film on baseball, I was struck by something that was said by the historian John Thorn:
""(Our love of baseball) says, I think, that we're children, or we'd like to be. The best of us keep keep as much of that childhood with us as we grow into adulthood as we can muster. The most creative, the most happy, the most fortunate of us are those who don't lose the sense of play. Even after we're past the point of being able to play the game with skill, if we love it, it's like Peter Pan. We remain boys forever. We don't die."
Taking stock, I'm in severe and unremitting pain, I'm incontinent, my career is in ruins, and I know now that I was a crap husband to a woman who deserved far more. I'm fated to a messy and humiliating death.
But I still love the game.
It's de finest game around. (See! I worked inde word...sort of.)
I love the nights, when the pain retreats a bit and I can use my service dogs as pillows, taking in their steady breaths to comfort me.
I love the humour of said service dogs running desperately to avoid being puked on - or worse - and then stoically enduring yet another bath.
I love the fun of going online to find DVDs at the local library (like Burns' Baseball!) and looking forward to seeing them.
I love remembering the times when I was strong enough to saw through steel, to make one more part for the Comper Swift replica that I will never finish, but will fly in my imagination. I still turn over the pieces in my hands, and enjoy their cold yet living grace and symmetry.
I love the evenings, when Barb and I can watch either The Voice or Star Trek reruns, even though I'm way too trashed by dry heaves to understand what's going on.
I love kissing my long-suffering wife goodnight, and attending to the nighty-night rituals of the dogs, so that they can have pleasant dreams.
I love the sound o the dogs dropping off to sleep, snoring and chasing dream-cats.
I love this life. I've done some things well, some would get a 'nice try'...and some, well as the cowboys say (please pardon this):
Some folks learn by readin'
Some folks learn by bein' told.
And some folks got to piss on the electric fence all by theyselves.
But by God, I love it all.
And like Peter Pan, I'll be a happy boy forever.
Jesus, after all, said that the only way to enter Heaven is with the heart of a child.
So I'll never die.
Just for fun, here's one of my favourite artists, Petula Clark, singing her signature song, Downtown.
A bit of news..."Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart" has come home! Tate Publishing has gone south, and I regained the rights, so it'll soon be available in both Kindle hardcopy versions once again. In the meantime, if you absolutely can't wait (!), you can still get used copies from Amazon.
I have another blog, "Starting The Day With Grace". The focus is a grace quote from someone you might not expect (like, say Mick Jagger) and a short commentary. I hope you'll join me.
Marley update... been moved to a sanctuary, and Bay County will revise their 'dangerous dog' codes.
If you can, please do leave a comment. I am trying to answer all, and I am failing, but please know this - I read and treasure each one.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.