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On having one more day...

I recently read Mitch Albom’s book “For one more day.” I’m a big Mitch Albom fan. For all the sentimentality and sticky sweetness at times, the words he writes ring true for all human beings. The themes of his works touch the very nerve of humanity. Our fear of death, of our own death, keeps us from living as if each day could be our last. As a result, we often miss opportunities, precious opportunities, to tell those closest to us how much we love them. We miss opportunities to do well and to live to the best of our ability. We miss opportunities to make the most out of the absurdly short amount of time we are given in this life.

So, I was thinking about with whom I would want to be given the opportunity to spend one more day. I was thinking about things I would do and say. Some, well most, of my answers were borne out of some sense of regret. Regret that I failed to say things to these people before they died. Regret that I failed to spend more time with these people before they died. In at least one case, regret that I chose not to spend more time with this person before she died because the process of her dying scared me to the core. Her name was Esther and she was my elderly neighbor when I was kid. I learned from her death and became more acutely aware of the fragility of life. Ultimately, her death enabled me to be strong when my grandmother learned she was dying, some 10 years later. Ultimately Esther’s death allowed me to be there more fully for my grandmother. I thank Esther for that, though my guilt still runs deep that I could not have learned the lesson earlier.

People I would spend one more day with:

My grandmother: The person I miss the most in the world. I spent a lot of quality time with her when she was dying. Time I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Tuesdays were our day together. My grandfather had various errands to run on Tuesdays, so I would go over and sit with my grandmother. It was precious time, though not always easy. There were days she was sick, days she was tired, days she was scared. On these days, I sat in the chair next to her and held her hand. We spoke softly until she drifted off to sleep and then I’d just watch her. I’d watch as her chest rose and fell, as her eyes fluttered beneath their lids. I’d listen to the rhythm of her breathing, and I’d mutter silent prayers to God. I’d bargain with Him, praying that if He’d only let her live long enough to see my cousins graduate and to meet my unborn son I promised to do better, to be better. Whatever He wanted, I’d exclaim. And on the good days, the days she was feeling nearly human, we’d sit and talk endlessly about whatever was on her mind. We’d hold hands on these days, too. And I’d always lean over and kiss her forehead when there was a break in the conversation. While these were the darkest of days, I would choose to spend one more of these days with my grandmother. I’d want her feeling good, of course, but being with her during her final journey was the greatest gift for me. Truer words were never spoken than those spoken between us on those Tuesday afternoons. I embrace that time now; I miss it dearly. I miss her dearly. I would give anything for just one more day…

My great-aunt Lou: I would spend one more Christmas Eve with Auntie Lou. These are my fondest of memories with her. She spent every Christmas Eve with us. I remember sneaking past her room well after midnight trying to see if Santa had yet visited our home. I would spend one more day with Auntie Lou waiting for Santa’s arrival. She would regale me with stories of her youth, and I would sit mesmerized, until sleep finally overtook me and I would wake the next morning amazed that Santa had found his way to me, despite that fact that I had been up most of the night listening to my great Aunt’s tales.

My grandfather: I didn’t know my paternal grandfather well. I saw him every couple of years when he and my grandmother would visit from England. But I have fond memories of him. I remember him tucking me in at night, singing English lull-a-byes. His strong hands, his gentle voice. I would spend one more day with him listening to his songs, falling asleep to his voice, comforted by his protective, loving embrace.

Tony: Tony taught me the game of cribbage. It’s a game I love to this day. I would spend one more day with Tony sitting at the kitchen table, a plate full of Esther’s zucchini in front of us, playing cribbage until out hands were too tired to hold the cards.

Esther: Tony and Esther raised me as much as anyone. I spent a lot of time at their house, listening to their stories. I would spend one more day with Tony and Esther at their house. I would eat Esther’s home-cooked meal, and we would listen to the music they taught me to love so much: Andy Williams, Dean Martin, Perry Como. We would watch Lawrence Welk and talk about the good old days when music “was more than noise.”

John and Mrs. A: My best friend’s parents. I have wonderful memories of them in my youth. I spent a lot of time at their house. Their door was always open—literally—no matter the time of day or night. Someone was always up in that house, and we were always welcome to come walking in just to hang out. I would spend one more day with John and Mrs. A dancing, playing cards, and watching Jerry Lewis movies. I would make it Labor Day. And we would flip pancakes onto the ceiling.

My dreams often allow me to fulfill my wish of spending one more day with the loved ones I’ve lost. As I slip from consciousness at night, they live on in my mind’s eye and I am with them again.

Mommy's boy

My love for this child grows more with each passing day. Just thought I'd share...

Chocolate fountains and bad do-wop

Are you f***ing kidding me? Eighteen friggin games. EIGHTEEN. And we lost the Super Bowl!?! My friends and I have had serious Super Bowl mojo going since the beginning of the season. Since the first game we have gathered together, broken bread, and celebrated every game together! Tonight was the culmination of all that loyalty. We were supposed to take it all tonight... we were supposed to walk into history tonight. What? What? What the hell?

I'm actually depressed. My only consolation is that pitchers and catchers report in 11 days. Eleven days! Basesball, baby, That's what it's all about. But seriously, what the hell? What happened? It wasn't looking good early on. At half time we broke out the chocolate fountain. Surely that would bring us luck. Then in the fourth quarter the boys decided that bad do-wop was going to turn things around. So every play we turned was supported by the (really bad) sound of our guys singing songs from the 50s. We couldn't help but laugh, despite the wavering offense, the non-existent defense. The boys were bad. Really bad. But every time they sang, the Pats seem to come back. That last TD had us thinking that we were going to pull off another New England miracle. We were going to do the unthinkable: the perfect season. Goddamn Manning. Goddamn New York. You suck, Except you played a Really Great Game. But, really, you suck!

Whatever. You know what? Pats still made history. Nobody has gone 18-0. Nobody except the Pats, that is. And we will gather again next season, and we will rock the football world. And in the mean time, we will rock the baseball world. Go Sox!

Thanks to Sean, Nikki, Amy, Purk, Dennis, Lisa, Sarah, Matt, Lisa, Big Dave, Ron, Alyssa, and Cheryl for making this season so much fun. And thanks to Aaron for being there for the big game, and for completing me the way you do.

The book

I've had lots of email about this so I thought I should address it here. Yes, the book is on the road to publication. Yes, it will be this year. No, the rights have not been sold to a studio...whoever started that rumor, please stop. Seriously. Please stop. But, yes, I did skip a meeting with someome I shouldn't have because I refused to miss game 4 of the World Series. Priorities people. Yes, there will be a chapter or two published on this site at some point. Yes, Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten" is on constant repeat on my iPod when I write. That song is my muse. It gets my toes tappin' and it makes me happy. Yes, I have an agent. No, I wasn't "discovered" because I wrote slogans for salada tea. Get real. Yes, I have a college degeee. Yes, I'm a voracious reader. Yes, I did sit outisde J.D Salinger's house when I was in college in hopes of getting an interview with the elusive one. No, I did not meet him. Yes, I quoted "Catcher in the Rye" to the cops when I crashed my car the day I got my license. No, I (mercifully) was not "found out" that day, and I have since been reformed. Don't drink, don't use. Period.

So, yeah, the book is due out sometime this year. I'm still putting the finishing touches on it, so, no, it won't be this month. Honestly, I think September 2008 is the target. There wil be some content going up on this site in the near future. I'm using the first chapter in my grad school application and that will be pulished here, so watch for that within the next month or so.

Merry, merry

My friends are the best. Seriously, the best. Ever. They have been there for me in countless ways forever. I love them. All of them. They're friends in the typical way. But they go way beyond that. They have my back every day. They're there to listen, to commiserate. They change the way I see things, and for that I am eternally grateful. From the darkest of days when my grandmother was dying, to the most wondrous time of my life, when my son was born...my friends have been there. Through my divorce, they've been there. Through everything, they've been there. Way more than I can say for my family. My friends mean more to me than I could ever describe.

So this Chistmas I had a Christmas party. So much fun. We decided it should be a slumber party, because there just aren't enough of those in the world. My friends rocked it! We dressed in our most comfy PJs and had the best time. We partied in until 6:00 in the morning, celebrating the holiday season. We had a secret Santa swap, and I have to say the best gift ever was that given to Dennis: Rock em' Sock em' robots. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

Have I mentioned my friends rock?

Home Sweet Home

This is my temporary new home while I revamp Thoughts and Musings. I have *a lot* of catching up to do, blog-wise... In the meantime, I've posted here some of the more popular (and/or controversial) entries from Thoughts.
For now, sit back and enjoy a picture of my beautiful son. See you again soon...