Be A Guy

Posts Tagged ‘Jesus’

A Permanent Solution to a Temporary Problem

In Be a Guy, Did You See This? on August 8, 2012 at 5:19 pm

When Mother became sick she was very accepting. This was her third match with cancer. Un-characteristically, one day she insisted I visit her in the hospital at a specific time. I arrived to meet the patient ombudsman and to sign on as the health care proxy. We very specifically discussed that Dad was too superstitious to do the deed; she felt I had the strength to pull the plug, and that she wanted it pulled. Within the year a friend tasked me with the same responsibility and had to ponder what this said about me; a practical tool towards ending it. Mother passed without me having to make hard decisions, as did Norman. I believe I would have enforced the DNR.

When Dad became sick I flew to his side: we had only recently reacquired our relationship, strained by his marriage and decision to have kids with her. I asked him, in addition to offering to take him to a priest and shark cartilage curanderos:

Did he want to start assembling enough pills or heroin to end it if it; got too rough?

Did he want me to go get him a gun?

He felt that the pills were easily obtainable at a later date. He reminded me that he had always hated guns, another thing we had in disharmony. I suspect him of being a good Catholic on a basic level. He was old enough and sick enough to qualify for an experimental drug and treatment regimen. While he lived for 4 years past his diagnosis he eventually opined that “it wasn’t worth it” and looked at me meaningfully. By that time she was watching us like a hawk and assistance would have meant jail time for me and truth be told I was sort of disgusted with his grasping at mortality as his dignity evaporated.

Dad had 4 brothers.
Dan died in Missoula in an “accident” that featured a stove and a broken pilot light. When Dad passed through Denver on the way to retrieve Dan’s ashes, I met him at Stapleton with an overnight bag and a cleared calendar. I was severely disappointed that he didn’t want my company and felt he was dealing with some shame. There is shame in ending up ashes in a cardboard box for a man who attended Catholic seminary for a while and thought he was Jesus returned for than more than a few moments. I had visited him on the summer solstice one year in what was one of my all time great benders and had a great time; I called Dad, not knowing what to do with Dan when he showed up at my door in full bipolar mania.

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LIRR Observations, Chic to Freak

In Fleshed Out Tweets, Street Seens on August 16, 2011 at 10:22 pm


There was a young woman opposite me on the train this morning w/ a unique nail style. I believe it’s French Polish when the tips are white? The different part was the moons at the base above the cuticle were painted black. In her world I guess that’s chic- from my vantage it looks like a blood blister from banging her finger with a hammer. Is this outside her experience?


There is a 300# woman squatting, in a sun dress, and pissing on the train platform and I’m too much of a gentleman to photo it.

[I glance up from my paper and see her, waddling down the platform, pause hike up her dress and take care of business. I’ve seen worse on mass transit; I’m not especially surprised or shocked as much as I’m sorry and shamed]

The pic would have made me famous- but Jesus she’s someone’s daughter.
[All joking aside this is the kind of thing that makes  for millions of hits and montization.  I had the BBerry in hand- she is 50 yards down the platform but an intrepid reporter would have closed the distance and gotten the picture- or better yet the video…. I couldn’t do it. Maybe she was an EDP, maybe she was high- Maybe she just didn’t give a shit; not a distinct possibility as societal norms don’t seem to count for much with someone that size in a sundress. Hell for all I know it was an empowerment exercise.  I had a flash to Thunderdome when Mad Max knocks the helmet off  Blaster and lets the fight go. Then I’m talking on the phone and pacing and had to pause at the scene of the crime like any rube gawking at a train wreck]
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