Gunner Shaped Hole

For what it's worth. As of about 30 minutes ago, Gunner slipped peacefully away, surrounded by family and friends.

His last words, that I know of, "I love you all."

Breaking my silence

Sorry to do this, jerk you back and forth like this, but there's something that I am struggling with and I just have this need to put this out there. In and of itself, it feels good to have that urge. I haven't had that in months. But the subject matter is another matter altogether.

In 1977, I moved to Pennsylvania from Massachusetts. Outside of a few cousins, I knew no one in that new state and town. Within the first few weeks, though, I met a few friends. My two best friends that year were Gunner and Vinny. Vinny had suffered a stroke when he was 4, and was partially paralyzed on his right side.

Gunner had been born premature with a heart condition. He was much sorter than the rest of us, and it was clear that he was not physically like the rest of us. Every year of his life, he was told to expect that that would be the year that he would die. Gunner beat the odds though, and every year insisted on living as full a life as he possibly could.

My mother was sure I was either incredibly open minded or incredibly dumb.

And I am not dumb.

Gunner and I have wandered in and out of close friendship over the years. Through our school years, we became more like friendly acquaintences; we didn't hang out all the time or anything. But after I graduated from college, that changed. He and I were pretty inseperable for over a year. Going to movies. Shopping for CDs. Playing pool. Pretty much every night, Gunner and I hung out.

I would not call it exaggeration to say that he semi-singlehandedly anchored me through that difficult period of my life between childhood and adulthood.

Ultimately I joined the Air Force. He moved to Tucson. We built separate lives. And we were never that close again, but I have always had a special place in my heart for him.

A few years ago, Gunner moved back to Pennsylvania. His health had deteriorated to the point that he should not be living alone. He had a stroke about 5 years ago, and he still has that heart condition. And a lung condition.

Last week, he contracted bronchitis. Which progressed to pneumonia. Pneumonia is not Gunner's friend.

He is in the intensive care unit as I type this, heavily sedated. He is on a ventilator. We do not know what his prognosis will be and won't know for a good long while. Yesterday before he was on the ventilator, I spent a half hour watching him gasping for breath. Exhausted. In pain.

The last time I saw someone in that same hospital in that sort of respiratory distress was in 2001, the year I said goodbye to my mother. Seeing Gunner like that takes me back to that time and all of those feelings.

And I am so sad for my friend. And for his family. Today is his mother's 80th birthday, and this is what she is dealing with rather than how am I going to blow out all of these candles...

I don't know what is going to happen, but I miss my friend terribly already. Maybe unnecessarily, maybe not.

You deserve to know him too. Here are some of my favorite words of his, in response to a question on one of those Facebook meme things.

What is the best gift you have ever received?

How to put this. Okay, for all who don't know, here is "story" about me. I was
born with a bad heart. It is a bit large and the walls of the arteries are very
thick so it has to work much harder to pump the blood through which causes me to
have chest pains (not nearly as often as when I was young) and extreme
tiredness. I was also born with noonan syndrome that effects my height and
skelital formation. (Don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this) If I had been
born with this heart and been "normal" size I would be long gone. Many a-doctor
are shocked I'm still around. Anyway, I guess a bit of a gift there. Here's
where it gets hard to explain. Because I am the way I am and look the way I look
people pretty much have to except the real me right away. I don't have a pretty
face or smoking bod to hide behind. And that is where the gift comes in. Yes, it
is insanely frustrating sometimes and I'd give a billion dollars to "fit in"
most days...but, the friendships I have formed, the people who have come to me
and told me the difference I've made in their life is amazing.

Sabbatical

Someone had a good idea. I'm taking the month off. See you all on or around December 1st.

Darling, I Do Believe I May Have Been Bamboozled

"Would you like to donate $1 to our ... mumble mumble ... blah..." I heard her ask the two customers in front of me at my local Wendy's fast food / artery cloggers outlet. I couldn't make out the cause, but the way she was saying it, I don't think I was meant to.

I really don't much care for when people put you on the spot like that. No matter what the cause is, you come across like a stingy jackass if you say no. "Okay, so you're buying $20 worth of really unhealthy food and you can't spare one measly dollar to help out the orphans in Zimbawe?"

But here's the thing with me. I don't put out even a nickel unless I have assessed whether it makes sense. And I can't POSSIBLY do that if they put me on the spot like that. Occasionally, only very occasionally, do I find someone peddling a cause that I have done homework on already. Like last week at my haircutting place they were giving money to the Philadelphia Food Bank. I gave them my dollar there.

At Wendy's, I had decided to decline.

I ordered one of their grotesque value meals and a medium frosty. "Would you like to donate a dollar blah blah blah..."

"No thank you, not today." I was polite but firm, and she went about her business. I paid with a credit card, she gave me my food.

Normally at a fast food place, when you pay with plastic, they put the receipt in the bag. But not this time. I went back to the counter. "Excuse me, I didn't get a receipt."

"Oh, sorry. I can't. That machine is broken. It's not even here anymore. They took it away!"

This is generally not acceptable, as I rely on those receipts to keep my account balance up to date, but there didn't really seem to be anything I could do. So I took my food and went back to the office.

As I sat at my desk, stewing over the fact that I was going to have to remember this transaction, I started to do the math. Meal - $7, Frosty - $1.60. So that's $8.60. Plus tax, ummmm -- maybe $9.

My total was $10 something. Or around a dollar more than I think it should have been.

Now, I'm not prone to conspiracy theories, and I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt, but in this case, here's what I think happened.

I think she added a dollar to my order even though I told her not to. And I think she withheld my receipt so that I wouldn't figure it out.

The only hole in my theory is that she was so smooth in telling me that the receipt machine was broken. No stutter. No stammer. Made eye contact while telling me. Of course, that might just mean that she's been practising that all day on all the other people she bamboozled too.

Well, at least it's only a dollar. But guess where I don't think I'll be going next time I need a heart attack on a bun?

That's right -- the Wendy's, on Second Street Pike in Southampton PA.

Autumnal

This is one of my favorite times of year. There's just something magical about watching the leaves turn color and spreading to decorate sidewalks, streets, parking lots, etc. It's like I am living in a real life Americana painting or something. I have been spending lots of time outside with my camera trying to capture the colors and bring them home with me.

Generally, the pictures fail to capture what I saw. Maybe the sun was hitting the leaves in a certain way that is lost. Maybe the act of putting a border around the tree limits the experience. I don't know. Sometimes I am pleased. Mostly I am not.

Another thing about this time of year -- the cooler weather. I hate to sweat. That is, I hate to be sweating when I am not exerting myself. Just sitting there in oppressive heat makes me grumpy. But now, I can open a window or go outside and cool off. It's a beautiful thing.

As I drive the roads these days, I am gripped with a strong desire to just drive north, west, south -- anywhere really. I want to leave my clocks behind. My structure behind. My framework behind. For a time, I just want to be. To eat when I am hungry, not when the clock says noon. To sleep when I am tired. To wake when I am no longer tired. To shed the shackles of other people's needs. I don't want this forever, just long enough for me to start demanding that structure back in my life.

I think I am overdue for a sanity day. I used to take sanity days all the time. Take the day off, not tell anyone where I was going to be or what I was going to do. I haven't done that in ages. Not so much because of family pressures, but because I can't just let work exist without my meddling.

I think it's time to let go for a while.

I am also beginning to suspect that Niagaran Pebbles may have played itself out for me. I no longer experience something and say to myself "That would make a great topic for Niagaran Pebbles" like I used to. Too many things that I think about have either been covered ad nauseum already (and I loathe repeating myself, if I can help it) or involve subject matter that I am no longer comfortable putting out there in this forum. My lack of anonymity and knowledge that I will get feedback, good bad or indifferent cause me to question whether I should be publishing these thoughts.

This is not the death knell. Merely a supposition that my time in this space is feeling as though it is drawing to a close.

I don't like the idea of no longer interacting with my readers, but at the same time, I really must question whether I have anything valuable to offer any more.

The Finite Ride

It was around three years ago when my friend Matt was told that he had cancer. Within a year, he was gone.

I don't know why that occurred to me this morning. But it did. And it made me think -- what would I do if I was suddenly prognosed similarly?

"Pos, you have six months to live. Now what?"

In Matt's case, all of his treatments completely interfered with his ability to work. He kept trying, though -- his boss (another friend of mine) set him up with a home office so that he could work even when he was unable to make it into the office, but from what I understand, even that was too much after a while. The community swept in and came to the aid of his entire family. But I am sure that there were bills that needed to be paid. And I am sure that cancer treatments are not given away for free at the hospital.

Still ... I think that if I were in his shoes I would be hard pressed to spend my last remaining hours toiling away for someone else's profits. Instead, I think I would devote my remaining time to those things that matter most to me.

To my wife and kids. To preparing them for a life without me. To letting them all know that I would not be going if I had a choice. To telling them and showing them all how much they mean to me.

I would probably prepare instructions for my memorial service and set up my living will and all of that. I would likely write something that I would instruct someone to read at my service, even if I am ambivalent to the idea of memorial services in general.

And I would probably write the stories that I am currently putting off.

The reality of it is, though, folks, we are all on that trajectory. Most of us don't know how long the ride will last, but believe you me, we are all going to reach the end of this ride.

It makes me wonder why it's okay to live my life today as though I have infinite time left, but it would not be if suddenly I knew what my expiration date was. Why don't I start living that way now, since I do have but a finite time left...?

Don't worry, folks. I am not planning to chuck in all my responsibility and start living like a middle-aged neo-hippie. But, I may start telling the people in my life how important they are to me more regularly.

I dunno. Something to think about.

A Puerile Baseball Post

Okay, I am 99% sure I just heard a baseball announcer use the phrase "back door slider," and I am pretty sure that's a slang term for something disgusting.

Okay, back to your previously scheduled surfing.