Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Tag: death

  • My Brother

    My Brother

    A week ago today I received the call from my nephew that his dad, my brother, had died.

    Ryan was three years younger than me, born in 1973. Like me tattoos covered his body, though his were mostly black and gray and mine are colorful… I asked him why he didn’t do color once and he just said it wasn’t for him. Unlike me, he had a head full of hair and could grow a full beard.

    He was 50% deaf in each ear since birth. When I was very young I recall my mother explaining to me that my little brother would be deaf and needed extra care. I cried so hard that day and remember running to my room just bawling like a baby. As he grew up and through childhood he would often, at least I think it was often, pretend he couldn’t hear you just so he didn’t have to do something. He would even go so far as to turn down his hearing aids – little shit. When he was much older he finally went through the procedure for ocular implants and he says it changed his world. There was also an app that he used with his phone and it was like someone was talking direct in his head he said. His lack of hearing never stopped him from loving music and he would head bang with the best of them.

    Ryan, Jamie, Dawn and Amy

    I couldn’t ever catch him when we were playing tag. I would chase and chase but he was a fast fucker that zigged and zagged and was always just out of reach. Once when I couldn’t catch him I grabbed the nearest item, I think it was an old empty gasoline can, and I pitched it at him, hit him in the head… and of course he needed stitches.

    Not to be outdone in everything, if he was winning a wrestling match against me I would fake an injury and he would get legitimately concerned that he hurt me some how and it pained him just the thought of that.

    When I was twenty my mother called and said she was moving to Florida and if I didn’t come to care for my younger siblings they would be placed in foster care. I didn’t want that to happen so I uprooted my life and went to live in Taylor, WI with Amy and Ryan. Truthfully it was a disaster – I couldn’t take care of myself let alone two teenagers. All we did was drink and smoke and party. It wasn’t long before social services came and took them both. While we were living together I grew concerned about Ryan’s drinking and alcohol (I couldn’t see my own addiction) and sent him off to treatment. He was so mad and didn’t think he was an alcoholic but we sent him anyway. He didn’t sign up for AA or let that become his new life and he was resentful about my sending him – we made amends many years later about it.

    Ryan did spend some time in the local prison. I don’t really remember the charges and it doesn’t matter now. While he was there he bettered himself, he came out with knowledge – he spent time learning and reading and doing things he didn’t do when he was younger. He was a lot smarter when he got out.

    Years go by quickly and we both grew up. I let alcohol and drugs consume my life early and found a way out when I was still in my twenties. Ryan found heroin later in life and it took its toll. I don’t know how long he had been without it when he passed, but I know it was a real struggle for him. He was always a stoner in our younger years and loved pot, but the heavy stuff wasn’t part of what we did back then. Duluth is where that part of his life happened and while he was there he was incommunicado wouldn’t answer calls of posts from us siblings. The heroin ate away at the relationships.

    We didn’t have the best life growing up and I know he didn’t have the best life as an adult either. He struggled and lived near poverty.

    A Celebration of Life was held on Saturday for him. There were memories shared, tears shed and laughter at hi jinx in our youth. His favorite two uncles came to pay their respects, among others. Ryan would have loved that, loved to see all those people together. We had coolers full of Mountain Dew, his favorite and just sat there on a rainy Saturday in sadness.

    I don’t consider myself a good brother. Many failures run through my head, things I could have done better for him or times I should have tried to reach out. I picked him up for a recent get together with Dawn and Amy when my Ma was in hospice. On the way home he bawled and spoke about how tired he was of fighting, how much work it was just to live. He had COPD and it’s a hard disease to live with. I let him talk and cry, but I offered no comfort, no soothing words or help – I had none. Do you lie to someone who’s dying and let them think there is some fragile hope out there that will make it better… I couldn’t. I just sat there in silence. I’m not a good brother.

    I will miss Ryan. We didn’t spend much time together and lived states apart, but I’ll miss him anyway. When I think of going “home” to Wisconsin he’s one of the things I think about…. but no more. I don’t believe in a hereafter or souls. I think he’s just done fighting and gone.

  • My Ma

    My Ma

    It was the end of the school year in 1985 in Whitehall WI. I had broken into my grandmothers locked room, rifled through it and maybe scraped together 20 – 25 bucks to spend on beer. She had had enough, rightly so, and called social services to deal with me. My mother had had enough of me too and that’s why I was living with my grandma.

    Social Services of Trempealeau county came and escorted me out of the home and took me to a group home in Eau Claire for the weekend. I didn’t know what was going to happen next and just did my best to get by, no issues with the group home. Just a scared teenager with no direction. Come Monday morning my case worker came and we drove from Eau Claire to Galesville. I don’t recall any conversations that may have happened on the way, but I was probably told that I had made my last screw up,

    We arrived at a long brown house at the end of town. I had a bag full of my belongings and carried that with me. When we entered the house I saw an old man and woman in their living room. The man was in a t-shirt and was dirty as if from work and the old woman was sitting in a rocking chair knitting.

    That was my introduction to Ron and LaVonne Prudlick, my Pa and Ma.

    We quickly went over some rules and expectations and they showed me to my room. It was early afternoon and the other foster child, Steve, wasn’t home yet. The case worker left and I settled into my room, I lay on the bed and was scared, unsure what might happen next.

    That first night I remember crying and just laying there in fear and uncertainty.

    Ma and Pa invested in me, taught me responsibilities. Gave me chores, allowance. Made me get myself up for school, do my homework and eat with the family at the table every night. I believe because of their discipline, love and attention I graduated from high school.. sure I wasn’t top of the class, but I made it.

    Flash forward to me being a regular drunk – they loved me even then. They’d pick me up when I was in trouble, dropped me off at treatment and even picked me up when it was done. Never did they not answer the phone when I called, never did they give up on me.

    After I found sobriety and made my amends with them all they wanted to “make it right” was for me to stay sober. The love wasn’t conditional, it was based on what was best for me.

    I was preparing to move to Washington, DC and stopped by to say good bye to Ma and Pa. I remember the big hug from Pa and Ma telling me that I always had a home no matter how far I traveled. She also said “if it doesn’t work you can always come home”. Home was always there.

    When I came out of the closet a few years later there was no judgement, no condemnation; just love and Ma saying it didn’t change anything. There was that unconditional love that they always gave to me.

    When Pa passed away suddenly, 17 years ago, I was a mess. It was a big loss and this person I had always expected to be there was suddenly gone. I made changes after that loss, made sure I would always go home for Christmas and other visits when I could afford to go to. Just to make sure I didn’t miss a moment.

    This last year we learned that Ma had liver cancer, stage four. I flew home. Ma and I talked about life, death and what we should expect. I made sure she knew that I loved her and would be there for her.

    We had our last Christmas together this past year, we were living in the moment. Ma wanted that. She didn’t want special treatment or people to be sad. She wanted us to treat every day like it was just another day.

    Then Rhonda let us know about 4 weeks ago now, that Ma was declining. I had just talked with her days before and she was fine. They had told us when it started to go it would go fast. I changed up a flight I had scheduled for July and headed to Wisconsin. I was planning to stay a week and get all the extra time in I could, I ended up staying an extra week and helping out.

    When I first arrived Ma was walking, talking and perfectly fine – within days she declined. In that two weeks it was rapid downward trend. When I left she could barely walk with her walker, we had her in a wheelchair, and she had started to lose her finer motor skills.

    When I said goodbye I got a big hug, I squeezed as tight as I dared and told her I loved her. She said she loved me too.

    It was a week later that hospice said she would go very soon, she clung onto life for three days just sleeping and Saturday morning she was gone.

    I lost my Ma Saturday. She was my Ma for 40 some years. She taught me so much about how to be a good person, to not judge others and how to love. Ma is what I think of when I think of love and what it truly means. Unconditional total love.

    This week I’ve been focusing on others, staying out of my own head. Everyone keeps asking how I’m doing and I respond the same way – as best I can, considering. I have support of a lot of people – specifically my sister Rhonda, my best friends Suzanne and Eric. My job has been so accommodating and I have the most understanding boss. My sponsor Flo also has reminded me of lessons that I needed to remember, he’s my sponsor even thought I don’t go to AA any longer, he’s another one of those humans I talk about later.

    We’re having the funeral on Tuesday, that’s what she wanted. She helped plan everything out and chose anything we presented her with. We may cry and be sad and that’s alright. We will suit up and show up and greet all her friends and acquaintances from her life. We will remember all the good times and share stories.

    https://www.dickinsonfuneralhome.com/obituaries/Lavonne-C-Prudlick?obId=42941957&fbclid=IwY2xjawLBfk1leHRuA2FlbQIxMQBicmlkETFMTUJZanhncUtuc2NSZTd0AR4HwN1uUJCeegv3Muo1UJV4YqgMsHy91m5SDa8hK43a22pIkkE1zqlNaC3tCw_aem_F29hQbN7u92zVEop5-xWoA

    Ma will be buried next to Pa in the Old Whitehall cemetery and the stone has been updated with her final date.

    LaVonne (Ma) Prudlick was one of those special humans that just loved. I was so fortunate to be on the receiving end.

  • Differences

    I don’t know what to do with “friends” that disagree with me on moral issues. It’s a bit of a quandary.

    There is right and wrong and the two are usually pretty easy to tell. There are, I suppose, gray areas as well – things that don’t fit in right or wrong. However, the moral issues I’m talking about are pretty stark.

    For instance, I think it’s wrong to murder people. Now most people I know would agree with that statement I’m thinking.

    But what about abortion, I’ll hear, you support that don’t you? Well yes I do. But I have a different definition of life than some people do I guess and think it’s not my body or my embryo so it’s none of my damn business. Do I think this is a gray area… yeah I guess, but it’s fueled by religion and that taints everything really in my opinion.

    Murder, taking the life of another human being… that’s black and white. It’s wrong to take another life. This isn’t a “well I’m not sure” or a “but what if”. I believe that taking another life is wrong. Even in self defense I think you could wound pretty significantly without ending their life. It’s not up to us to decide who lives and who dies…

    In the case of Kyle Rittenhouse I find that I have many friends who think he did nothing wrong. That it is ok to leave your home, with a gun, travel outside your neighborhood and patrol the streets as a vigilante. He shot three men, killing two of them, but they think he did nothing wrong that he’s “innocent”. I can’t wrap my head around it – I can’t see their point of view. I can’t fathom a world that thinks what he did was ok.

    Article: Kyle Rittenhouse is Evil

    I’m a fan of vigilantes. I read and love comic books and have since I was a kid. Most superheroes have moral codes that keep them from killing, keep them from doing things that are wrong. Maybe that’s where I’m messed up, I relied on comic book heroes for my morals and reverence for life. Batman says “heroes don’t kill”.

    But I do have a very close friend who said “I just don’t know” when I was talking about the Rittenhouse case. I’m hoping that they just aren’t familiar with the case, that there isn’t a gray area in their minds that is letting them think he might have been doing the right thing.

    This can’t be the right thing. Killing people can’t be the right thing.

    I have friends that I strongly disagree with on political nonsense. They swing way right, I swing in the middle. I’m not a fan of either of the big parties, I’m not a fan of career politicians, geriatric nominees, or suppressing the vote. I think both parties lie enough to the citizens of our country that they should be tried for crimes against our nation. It’s awful. Here, vote for the lesser evil.

    And that I guess depends on your definition of evil. Right and wrong again, you know it when you see it.

    I think it’s right to provide food stamps for families in need.. this is because I grew up in a family that was needy and those stamps kept me fed sometimes.

    I believe that religion has too much say in politics and the rights and responsibilities of the human race.

    I think if we’re the land of the free and the home of the brave, we should all have the same rights and responsibilities.

    I’m not a fan of the death penalty. Why should they get off so easily? My grandmother had a bumper sticker that read “some people are so opposed to murder, they’ll kill anyone that commits it”

    I don’t think we belong in any more wars, we’ve done enough damage to the world and it’s time to come home and fix up our own side of the street.

    I believe suppressing votes is happening because a certain party is afraid of the voice of the people.

    I believe the people have lost their voice to distractions from social media to fake news… fake news is all of it, it’s all designed to get you to react and less about informing you of what’s going on.

    I believe Donald Trump incited a riot, and that people in this riot wanted to overthrow the government based on his urgings.

    I worry that I have friends that believe in chem trails and microchips in vaccines.

    I worry that I have friends that think the one doctor they found on YouTube the disagrees with all the experts is the guy to believe.

    What I want is, sigh, I’m not sure what I want. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what I want. What we need is for people to be able to identify good and bad on the same level again…. if we ever did to begin with. We need there to be repercussions when you do something wrong, those repercussions should be equal to the wrong that was done in some way other than death.

    Here’s the thing, I don’t think of myself as a nice guy. But I am. I give rides to people that need rides, I grant my shoulder to those that need one to cry on, I listen when no one else has the time to listen. Am I the one to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? I’m not the best guy for the job. But I believe and was taught that you know. You know down deep what’s right and what’s wrong. You know killing others isn’t right. You know hurting others is wrong. You KNOW these things, without me having to tell you or manipulate you … you just know… I have to believe I’m not the only one who just knows when I’m doing right or when I’m doing wrong.

    But what do you do with these friends that “don’t know” or think bad is good… how do you keep them as friends, how do you not argue with them or worry about the world with them thinking the way they think.

    You can unfriend them on Facebook I suppose, but what about real life, life outside of “Meta” lol

    Do I have to argue with them? no. Do I have to agree with them? no. But can I keep good conscience knowing they have a different definition of right and wrong than I do… it’s like me believing 2 + 2 = 4 and them believing it equals 7. Can I be ok with them thinking it’s what should be four is seven? I don’t think I can.

    I have a friend, Robert, who gives no fucks. You don’t see reality – unfriended. You hate on people/races/gender identity what have you – unfriended. He’s very strict about it and vocal on how he feels and sees the world. I respect him and I know he believes 2 + 2 = 4. I’m not Robert, I still tolerate the ignorant, hateful, arrogantly incorrect… I still allow them to pollute my timeline… Part of it is curiosity, I want to know what crazy shit they’re thinking today.

    But I don’t think it’s good for me. I’m not sure… it’s a gray area for me.

    This was a long rant, I’m not sure I went anywhere with it. Right is right, wrong is wrong… it’s never been hard for me to tell the difference, I don’t know why it is for others.. or why what’s right has become something so wrong.

  • Diabetes, Depression and Death

    Diabetes, Depression and Death

    This is likely a whiny post. This was your only warning.

    I’ve recently been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. Many years ago I used to get tested pretty regularly to see if I had diabetes… see my biological father died from complications with diabetes when he was 48 (I just turned 48). His complications were that he wanted to drink more than he cared about managing his diabetes and ended up in a coma after a stroke…. and then we pulled the plug.

    A doctor a few years back, when I asked to be tested, said to me about diabetes “if you don’t want diabetes don’t get fat, it’s that simple”. So am I fat? I’m larger than I have been ever, so I guess that could be a yes, but I didn’t think I was that fat… and I know a lot of people that are fat that don’t have diabetes so the doctor was a tool I’m thinking. But I guess I’m fat… so we have depression, diabetes and diameter issues?

    From my handbook given to me by my doctor – “Type 2 Diabetes – This is the most common form of diabetes. In type 2 diabetes, your body makes some insulin, but not enough or the insulin your body makes does not work right. The amount of glucose in your blood goes up. Over time, high blood glucose damages the eyes, kidneys, nerves and heart.” and the “Complications of uncontrolled diabetes include” Blindness, Kidney disease, nerve damage, amputation, cardiovascular disease: Stroke, Heart attack, loss of circulation in arms and legs.

    That sounds pretty bad right? I don’t have a lot of fear about this – I’m thinking I’m not a fan of amputation or blindness … but with the depression going on and the goal being an end to everything, well does it really matter that I have another thing.

    People with type 2 diabetes may need diabetes pills. Many also need insulin. I take a pill with dinner, that’s it at the moment… there are no injections of insulin – although there were during my recent trip to the hospital, they can’t give the pill in the hospital as it might interfere with things so they give you shots of insulin, wasn’t so bad really.

    I frequently already have had hypoglycemia – as a result of this. Although it’s not unique to diabetics, it’s not a lot of fun for me – probably not for you either. But now I have some ideas of what to do about it and how to get relief. Hypoglycemia – think Julia Roberts at the salon in Steel Magnolias when Sally Fields made her drink orange juice… mine doesn’t make me a demon woman like Julia was but I feel really weird.

    I do eat a little more than I used to, but my diet is still pretty limited. I love pizza, burgers, steaks and fast food…. but I’ve started to branch out. I recently fell in love with rice… white rice… yes, I’m very vanilla. I love the texture, how it feels when it is cooked just right and you can feel a gentle firmness and just melt it away on your tongue… it’s odd I know. But I’ve also incorporated a lot of chicken into my diet – cheap and it tastes pretty damn good when I dry rub it in curry. I love my chicken so hot that I start to sweat when I eat it… well almost anything that hot is good.

    Exercise is not a thing that I like to do. I like to walk and I like to ride my bike, but that’s about it (No, I don’t want to ride my bike or walk with you – not a fan of people you know). Back in school I learned some boxing during a self defense class and I liked that so I’m thinking I could tolerate a boxing class or martial arts class. Going to the gym to exercise and just to exercise seems like a waste of time – there’s no purpose out side of being or getting healthy… well I hear (and don’t believe at all) that there are some people that get an endorphin high from exercising and that’s why they do it… damn junkies… but never happened to me, the high comes when it’s over and you think you’ll never have to do it again.

    My depression is currently not in cycle, my doctor and I think it cycles through and at the moment it’s not rearing it’s ugly head too much. When it does there are no solutions to anything and even the most ordinary task can seem overwhelming and pointless. I’m taking two drugs at present to combat this – Abilify and Escitalopram – and it really seems to work, unfortunately on occasion I get giddy… which my doctor says is a good thing and I shouldn’t mind, but I do. Not a fan of giddy.

    Even when the depression is off cycle that thoughts of dying are persistent. Those thoughts have more fuel now with the recent diagnosis – don’t drink, don’t smoke, what do you do… well not eat what I want anymore.

    I begin to wonder what’s the point – why be here if you continually can’t do the things you used to enjoy. Many people live for others – they love so deeply for someone that it gives their life meaning or something.

    I don’t think I really want that. One of the first thoughts I had after the realization that I was in love with Bill was – damn it, now I have to care about living… for him. Fortunately, love ends, at least mine did so that worry didn’t last.

    My friend Suzanne says that I bring joy to others and that’s worth living for. I’m too selfish to believe that and there is evidence to the contrary in famous people – Robin Williams, Anthony Bourdain…. they brought joy but I think they understood what I do this feeling of just wanting it to be over. It’s not a crisis it’s just a desire to die.

    I talk a lot about death being a human right and I think it is. It should be an individual choice for whomever wants to end it. There are enough people that want to live forever and ever and have those things that they want to “live for”, let them have what they want and let us have what we want… but don’t make it senseless, shameful and messy… use suicide to help others… organ donation, scientific study.

    When I’m deep in my depression and thoughts of dying are all encompassing I spend most of my time trying to plan a painless, clean death and I have a few ideas that are pretty good. I’ve had some ideas that were ruined upon further research by percentages or errors and or mistakes by otherwise well meaning suicidal folks.

    Imagine, and I do, a world where giving your life for others would be considered a nice thing… like Jesus – I give of myself so others can live. My organs, blood and body used to bring about enlightenment or life for someone who wants it. How many people are on lists to receive organs and will die because they aren’t there.. how many assisted life takings (we have to come up with a different name than suicide it has too many negative connotations and we want this to be a beautiful thing and it should be) could then be used to save the life of children, adults, loved ones that otherwise would die.

    I thought about selling my body/organs as a way to commit suicide. There is a black market (if I’m to believe TV Dramas) where organs go for big bucks…. I could sell my whole body for $80,000 – $100,000 and then they could take my life the next year… just give me a year to finish it all up and be done with it. Winner winner chicken dinner right?

    Diabetes, Depression, Death, and Diameter… added that last one here after writing thing appeared. Today, which is how AA told me to live, is just fine eating a little less, tasting a lot less and being more aware of what’s going on in my own body.

  • Trying to Let Go

    Trying to Let Go

    Sometimes, more often that I’d like to admit, I can’t sleep. Insomnia is a big deal and it literally keeps me awake at night. I’ve tried a bunch of different things to combat this – stopped drinking caffeinated beverages, stayed up really late to make myself more tired, took a nap when I first got home… and more. None of that worked for me.

    I’d done some mindfulness meditation and sometimes that can help get me to a place where I just drift off, but that then leads me to get sleepy when I mediate as well. Might be worth it if it were a guaranteed solution to the problem.

    What I usually do, instead of counting sheep, is draw xes across my hear in my mind.. one line, then another, then another. The idea was formed from an old news article I read where a kid with a tumor would imagine a video game where he was destroying the tumor with spaceships and that killed it… likely he had radiation, chemo and the like but that wasn’t the headline so I didn’t really read the entire article.. that’s the American way you know. However, I thought visualization might be the key for me.

    If I spend each night, or most nights drawing a cross across my heart it may just give out during the night and I wouldn’t wake. That would be ideal to just pass in my sleep… I had considered drawing xes on a vision of my brain but I have this fear of being in a vegetative state and no one letting me die… like that one girl congress came back from vacation to save her life… which was such a ridiculous mess if you ask me… let people die, what’s wrong with you people.

    Anyway… I’m still here and still breathing and the heart is still beating….. so it doesn’t work, trust me I’ve been doing this for a while now.

    Last night instead of doing that I thought “maybe i just need to let go, if I just relax my body and mind and completely let it all go I’ll just fade away” that kept me up for a while, thinking on that and how it might be a solution. Didn’t work, obviously, here I am writing a blog post about wishing I were gone.

    Thing is, I don’t want to go violently or make a mess… I just want to go. I mean, if I were to get shot while just doing what I normally do or die in a car crash I didn’t cause… well I’m not going to struggle to hold on… but if I had my way it would be easier to just go.

    I ponder frequently about why we, as a society, don’t have a simpler way to do this. I guess most people don’t think like this… so why would they think a solution would be needed. But I reflect on the many suicides in the world each day and how they went… can’t we make it easier for them and survivors… just make it a new part of our culture… someone wants to die… who are we to say “No you can’t”. You want to live and I’m not saying “no you can’t” so how is it fair?

    not that life is fair I guess…

    I don’t actually think that all suicide is because someone is depressed or mad or running away… I think sometimes, me in particular, some people just are done… it’s a nihilist thing I guess… not caring, not wanting to have anything to do with anyone or anything… just wanting to be done.

    So tonight, like last night, I will just try to let go of reality and pass… I’m not hopeful, but strangely it’s something to look forward to.

  • The Extractor

    In 2028 the US Government took a dramatic swing from Democrat and Republican to Technocrat. After over twelve years of decline into the superstition of religion and the fear it breeds, the population rose up and replaced those running on old ideas and replaced them with those who had scientific knowledge and acumen to change the course of the country.

    Technocrats and the Technocracy movement abolished old ideas keeping the country from progressing. Instead of interfering with scientific progress that might offend the religious we jumped into the deep end and made real change. One of the first major changes, after hard fought years was the removal of tax-exempt status for any religious organization involved in politics at any level. There was first outrage yet afterwards the populace found progress, real progress towards fixing the country and the world was happening. What faith and fear held back inquiry and investigation into the worlds of science blossomed new generations and ideas. (more…)

  • Untitled Story

    The water gushed into the streets of the town. Cobblestone streets and large block buildings with oval spires  began to fill with dirty liquid as the flow overwhelmed. Sloshing of waves hitting walls and belongings being swept away could be heard throughout. The force of the rapids took out doors and low windows, small vehicles were lifted into the wash to crash into buildings moments later spinning down the new river as it took it’s toll.

    Bodies floated like jetsam among the deluge – all ages. The coming didn’t discriminate. Occasional screams of those trying to hold on were heard above the roar of the waves. Tears on their faces indistinguishable from the water that surrounded them. Panic stricken they found no hope, shelter or solace.

    The sky was alit with a purple fire, with bright cascading comets entering the atmosphere in a dizzying array of fireworks. Sonic booms followed by more screams erupted amongst the other sounds.

    In the center of the town stood a beautiful white church upon a impeccable lawn – alit with flames consuming it entirely. The wood hissed and cracked as the flames licked slowly up the outside. A bright orange stain on the dying world alive with flames. The water that gushed into town seemed to part before – unwilling to quench the flames that ate away at it.

    They came then – sloshing through the streets knee deep with water. Pulling rafts behind them littered with bodies. Each creatures’ face had traces of bloodstains, their sharp teeth smiling an evil grin as they waded through. Guttural laughs from the oppressors as they’d pull another lifeless body into their collection. They’d be fed for days after this harvest – but they would miss the fear that generated after this assault – a fear that fed them as much as the humans flesh, feeding them a crazed energy they so deeply craved.

    As night approached and the seeming comets littering the horizon faded the screams of the humans came to a stop. Creatures feasted now, before purple bonfires – a ravenous feats where flesh and bone were stripped with razor sharp teeth and soon consumed.

    This was just a small town, other parties had feasted on larger takes and were off to the next already. One small planet would feed them for a brief while but soon they’d be off to find the next.

  • Sad Rabbit Tale (H&U Saves Easter?)

    A little white bunny had been seen in the parking lot behind the office. Taylor and Tina noticed and wanted to see what we could do to help the little fur ball as it seemed to be a pet, not a vicious creature like the Rabbit of Caerbannog.

    Mild-mannered clerk of the works – Jamez – called out for assistance to the local animal rescue places. However, each place was exclusive for dogs and cats – no room for bunnies, snakes or even rats. Finally one place offered some hope and told of a sanctuary where hares may fare. Brambley Hedge and Rascally Rabbit could house Peter, but we’d have to deliver, as they don’t come pick up.

    Katelyn then noticed the guy out back by the gate and he wasn’t as shy. She took a photo and sent it to Jamez – who couldn’t do anything, oh what a shame. Hope came then with Gerald in tow, and they too could see the rabbit so close. They scooped the guy up and took him home.

    Now what will happen with our little furry friend? Well that’s to be seen, but it isn’t his end.

    I’m certain Peter was here resting before his Easter deliveries and somehow got trapped – probably by St. Patrick jealous of the encroachment on his own holiday – you know how those leprechauns can be – sneaky, crafty and slippery.   Easter will be here at the end of the month – and thanks to the efforts of our staff Peter will be there once again.

    • I HAD WRITTEN THIS POST AND PLANNED TO PUT IT IN THE NEWSLETTER I DO FOR WORK SOMETIMES… BUT THEN WE RECEIVED A REPORT THAT THE RABBIT DIED (The baby is not mine… relax, I swear I don’t swing that way) SHORTLY AFTER ARRIVING AT GERALD’S HOME. HE HAD GONE OUT TO PURCHASE SOME FOOD AND WHEN HE CAME BACK 20 MINUTES LATER IT WAS GONE… I HOPE FOR ALL THE CHILDREN’S SAKE THAT THIS WASN’T IN FACT PETER COTTONTAIL… BUT JUST A RANDOM POOR LITTLE BUNNY THAT TRIED TO LIVE IN THE EXCITING WORLD OF INSURANCE.

  • Put the "fun" in Funerals

    I’ve been thinking about funerals lately – near death experiences by a couple of folks have put dying in my rotating thought patterns. Then I start thinking about wills and cremation and making sure there is a gold coin in my mouth before I’m burned – just in case I end up at the river Styx and need to pay Charon, being stuck on this side of the river would be rather boring I’d think.

    Who’s funerals do I have to attend? Seems an odd question doesn’t it? There must be some kind of etiquette that tells me  the ones I have to go to. Obviously close family, but not the bible thumping crazy aunt – unless she’s come into a fortune and me getting a chunk of it is dependent on attending the morbid death ritual – and even then, probably not. Co-workers (current job or all the others? Fellow AAs (maybe just the ones that weren’t annoying)? Certainly former sponsors, certain ex bosses and a lover or two…

    I figure that I had to make my own rules for this kind of thing and decided that if I would invite them to my own wedding – not for gifts, but because I actually enjoy their company – then I’d be willing to put up with a funeral. Granted, I have no intention of getting married, much to selfish to give up my free time, but if I were and wanted to invite some people – those are the people that I’d miss if they were dead – most likely… maybe… I guess (more…)

  • David

    I found out that my first sponsee, David R, passed away yesterday. David was a real alcoholic, he struggled to find the answer in AA and was the kind of drunk who’d been in treatment centers and involved with the courts countless times. He was, for all intents and purposes, hopeless – that’s the kind of drunk you don’t think is going to make it and then BOOM they get it and their whole life is changed… but that didn’t happen for him. He had brief moments of sobriety when I knew him, and then the crushing fall back into the disease – it was hard to watch for me, probably a lot harder to watch for his family. I feel guilt – maybe I didn’t read him the right part of the book, or show him how good it would be or … I don’t know, a million things, but it’s not about what I did or didn’t do, I tried – I reached out my hand and offered a way out, the same way that was shown to me, that’s all I was bound to do.

    David is the guy I wrote about and got published in the A.A. Grapevine – ( Read story here ). I was working over nights at the Fahrman Center, a treatment center/halfway house, when David called and was suicidal. I talked to him for a good long time and eventually had the police get out there to get him – he was taken to the psychiatric unit at the local hospital, but not before he made me promise to come up and see him there and bring my fellow AA’s with me. That morning, likely before the sun came up I called all the guys on my list and a bunch of us went to see him. That phone call and follow up visits by AAs to him opened up an avenue for that hospital and the District to talk to one another, we started a pager program and started to carry the message to drunks up there – it changed things.

    But David didn’t stay sober, I don’t remember when he got drunk after that – but I know he was sober for a while and he seemed happy. He kept focusing on getting his family back and how he could get sober if he had them, but I knew from the book that wasn’t the case…

    “Let no alcoholic say he cannot recover unless he has his family back. This just isn’t so. In some cases the wife will never come back for one reason or another. Remind the prospect that his recovery is not dependent upon people. It is dependent upon his relationship with God. We have seen men get well whose families have not returned at all. We have seen others slip when the family came back too soon.” Alcoholics Anonymous, pp 99-100

    He wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t hear that and he got drunk.

    The last time I saw David he had called me and was really drunk, he was staying at a little motel down the highway and I went to see him. He looked pretty bad, was still drunk as hell and was hard to understand. He started to talk about bad things that had happened to him as a child- but then he just passed out.

    I’d get reports once in a while from friends who work in the Drug and Alcohol treatment field once in a while – and I always hoped he’d show up one day at a meeting I’d get to when I was visiting, but it didn’t happen.

    I’ve cried a bunch of times today – a few times for happy reasons before I heard this news – but mostly for David. I so want to grab a slipping newcomer and just slap him silly

    “Don’t you see, can’t you see this will happen to you to”

    “just do what we’ve asked, and you’ll see, it’ll all get better”

    but I know that won’t work… I used to hear in meetings “You can’t see until you can see and you can’t hear until you can hear” and it’s sadly so true. For some there’s nothing I can do to help them until they’re ready – and some sadly will never be ready.

    I was at my current sponsor Flo’s house when I heard about David today, I was helping him prepare a memorial for his first sponsor who passed a few weeks ago. And it was just the right place to be at the right time – I find it hard to cry in front of people, even my sponsor, and he left the room. Here we were, preparing to honor the man who had reach him only to hear about the loss of a man I couldn’t reach. That’s AA for you, I was where I was supposed to be today.

    The old-timers and the book say that even though David didn’t stay sober, I did and that’s a good thing – that doesn’t make me feel better at all. I want it all, I want David to be next to me at a meeting grinning at newcomers who can’t pronounce anonymity and shaking hands at the door. I want them all to get it and to have a better life and to see how a few simple rules can change the world.

    I believe in Alcoholics Anonymous, because it worked for me when I worked for it – I didn’t get it when I just stayed on the outskirts and watched others participate. When David was participating and shaking hands he seemed happier than I’d seen him before – I saw change in him. But our book says others are likely to see the change in newcomers before they see it in themselves, that may have been the case with David, I’m not sure.

    There is a solution, I’ve found it, it was shown to me by sponsors who had it shown to them by sponsors who had it shown to them by sponsors… it’s been working for over 75 years now. We have a lot of people to try to reach out to, I want to be the helping hand to show them the way out, I want to see them help others and watch a marvelous fellowship grow up about them. I wanted that for David, I want that for all my sponsees – the fellowship I have around me is so vast now, reach across continents, internets and handshakes – I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

    Rest in Peace David