So P!nk sings a song called Perfect. Or, if you have satellite radio, its Fuckin Perfect. (Yes, this is going to have profanity so if you don't like it, stop reading now.) The song says "if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, You're fuckin' perfect to me." And as love songs go, or songs about one you love, its probably pretty good. Yeah, I listen to P!nk. Problem with that? I didn't think so. I also like Simon and Garfunkel, Springsteen and a whole bunch of other music.
Anyway, its not real. Its a song. And you know what I hate? I hate people who are fake. Or people who want you to think their lives are perfect. Your life is not perfect. Don't lie. Sure, someone asks you how you are, you can say "Fine" or "Good" or "Okay." But don't put up some bullshit front because you think you are fooling people.
Great, your kid is a fucking genius. Is he the next Steve Jobs? Tell me your kid is doing well at school. Don't tell me he is the smartest kid in his class at some swanky private school. A) I don't care if your kid goes to Idiot Elementary School or Genius R Us University. Its fucking school. In the grand scheme of things, school, especially elementary school, teaches us how to interact with other people and get along in society. There are plenty of smart kids who have been failures in society because they can't get along with others. 2) Your kid aint that smart. He got all A's in 4th grade? Great. Congrats. Very fucking impressive.
Oh, and you are the stud of your adult league sports team? Really? Its a fucking adult league. Its recreational. Most people who actually play sports don't play in these pansy leagues. Its not like we have to prove anything. Most of us did it when we were younger - you know, when we gave a damn about sports, when are parents paid for us to play sports. Now we want to play for fun and go to work to support our families. But I am glad you are the three sport star as a 38 year old. Does it make you feel good? I might suggest you take up underwater basketweaving or tiddlywinks as well. Maybe then you will kick ass in 5 sports against other pansies.
Oh, and your job is perfect with your ridiculous public employee pension. I am damn glad you can retire at 55 and get paid 80% of your income for the rest of your life. That is great. Get paid by the people to work and then get paid by the people to retire. It must be nice. And that job security. Sheesh. I mean, what don't you get? Do they bring you lunch and wash your car too? Do they give you a pedicure and keep your nails pretty while you sit on your fat ass, oh wait, your studly sports winning ass, and push paper from one piece of crap pile to the next? I know, you have to be soooo smart to get that job and go to one of those fancy places that has a Division I football team to get that job. You are a fucking genius and I am so happy for you.
Let me guess, your wife has a perfect fucking body too. I know, you have all that money you have, it must be nice to have plastic women as a wife. Let me guess: fake tits, a tummy tuck, lip injections, which by the way are disgusting, and probably her eyes done. That is called fake. I don't know about everyone else, but I like my women real. Like 100% real. Yeah, I know some guys like fake boobs. But fake everything? Great. Good for you. Enjoy that.
And while I am guessing, I assume you are going to brag that you are 10" and can go all night. Sure you can. And Jenna Jameson asked you to fuck her too. Or maybe Cameron Diaz. Sure. Its all fucking perfect for you.
Now to reality. Life sucks sometimes. Its not sucky, but it does suck. The rest of us have problems. I wish life was better constantly. But its not. You get dealt a raw hand sometimes. You have to put up with bad things. And bad things happen to good people. And you can't explain why. I wish I knew. But there isn't an answer. Although I may try to answer that later.
But you know what, fuck that. I don't care. I know its hard. Sometimes I sit in my car and look up at the clouds and think "What the fuck?" Sometimes I sit and look at my kids and think "I am not sure I signed up for this plan." But then I realize it. It hits me:
A man's character isn't shown when things are going well, but when things suck dick.
Think about that for a second. According to you, your life is perfect, great, amazing. Happy Fucking Birthday to you. You know what, when life is that good, its easy to be a good person. Its easy to make people think everything is wonderful. Its not rocket science.
But when you are faced with troubles, the question is then what kind of man are you? Are you the kind who is going to turn tail and run or are you the kind that is going to man up, figure out a solution and try to make the best of a bad situation? Any asshole can do good things when life is great. It takes a special asshole to do good things when life sucks.
So, congrats on your perfect fucking life. Congrats on everything being great. I mean, lets pretend that you arent a cocksucking piece of crap who lies about your failures and pretends they don't exist. I know my failures exist - big time. And people know about them. But that is okay with me. I also know that when push comes to shove, I am going to stand up, take responsibility for my failures and figure out how to make the best of the crap that life sometimes deals you. I am going to do the best I can. And if I fail or if I succeed, I know its based on me making the best damn decisions I can make. And there is no one who can sit and judge me for it.
Yeah, a man's character comes out when life sucks. You, on the other hand, are too perfect to understand.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
On Children
Remember that first time you held your child? You were somewhere. You remember the place. Your child was put into your arms and you saw all of the potential. Your child was perfect. It didn't matter if he was bald, had hair, pooped on you, or cried. Your child was perfect.
I remember the first time I held my oldest son. Heck, I remember the first time I held all of my children. My baby girl was at the hospital. My three boys were all at the adoption agency. But that first time you hold your baby is so special, so amazing, such an event. We really don't appreciate that enough.
We were at the adoption agency. They brought him in to the room. He was amazing. Brown eyes, brown hair. We have a picture of that time. His big head on my arms and I smiled. I looked at my wife and called him "Munch." It was a dumb nickname but it was perfect for him. My little munchkin. We spent the night at a hotel. I had no idea what I was doing with a baby. Thankfully my wife was there. Then we got on a plane and flew home the next day.
I even remember my first diaper change. We were on a United Airlines flight from New York to San Francisco. My wife had a headache. I said I would change his diaper. I took him to the bathroom and laid out the little diaper changing pad. How hard could this really be? I took off his diaper, wiped him, and turned around to throw it away. When I turned back, I was looking at the Trevi Fountain. (Google it, people.) Someone forgot to warn me that a baby boy will pee like this when you take off his diaper. OOPS! Live and learn. I remember it like it was yesterday.
But what do you feel when your perfect baby isn't? I don't mean that he punches another kid or doesn't do his homework. Heck, I barely did homework from 3rd grade through my junior year of high school. All kids make mistakes. All kids screw up. But what do you feel when your child has problems?
We have all experienced pain. I lost both of my parents. It was two different ways. My dad passed away suddenly, unexpectedly. With my mom, we knew it was coming. Both sucked. Both hurt. But we all know starting at about 9 that life means death. We all have to go. (Although I don't for a minute believe the end of the world is tomorrow.) So that pain comes and we can grieve.
Maybe we lose a friend. Maybe we have our heart broken. That pain is real too. It hurts. We find a way to deal with it.
But what do you do when the pain can't be fixed? Today, my oldest son has to go to LA for a few weeks. Alone. I can't be there with him. And it hit me today - I can't fix him. I want to. I need to. But I can't. Its a tradition in my family. Dad could always fix anything. Need a water pump for a 71 Skylark while you are stuck in the middle of NY? Dad can find one. Need an extra $20 to take your girlfriend on a date? Dad can help you out. Need to get over a broken heart? Dad has a remedy for that. Need to get over a fight with mom? Dad knows how to do that too. Can't move and need a wheelchair that will help you get around at the beach? Yep, dad could get that too.
But now dad doesn't have a fix. Dad can't just make this go away. I can't. And if my dad was here today, he couldn't either. Its a feeling of helplessness that I can't explain. I don't know the relationship between moms and sons or between moms and daughters. I know the relationship between dad and son. Its a special one, and I guess a lot like the relationship between a mother and a daughter. But when the son can't be fixed and when the son has problems that the dad can't solve, what do you do?
I wish I had an answer. Green Day says make the best of life and don't ask why. "It's not a question/but a lesson learned in time." If I take this approach, I guess I don't need an answer. But it seems lacking. It seems like the Budweiser commercial. "Why ask why, try Bud Dry." We see how well that made it. They haven't made Bud Dry since about 1988. It sucked - or so I was told.
Maybe now is not the time for an answer. Maybe now is the time to just ask questions. Maybe there is no answer today, this week, this month. Maybe the answer will come to me in time. Maybe the answer is that he ended up with us because he needed people who could give him the resources that he needed. After all, the odds of a child born in New York and ending up with a family from California are pretty slim. The odds of that child being able to live with two biological siblings are even slimmer. So maybe that is it. Maybe its simple. Someone had a plan for him and knew he would be special. And because he was special, he needed people who could give him access to the things that would give him some quality of life. At least for now, that answer is satisfying enough.
I remember the first time I held my oldest son. Heck, I remember the first time I held all of my children. My baby girl was at the hospital. My three boys were all at the adoption agency. But that first time you hold your baby is so special, so amazing, such an event. We really don't appreciate that enough.
We were at the adoption agency. They brought him in to the room. He was amazing. Brown eyes, brown hair. We have a picture of that time. His big head on my arms and I smiled. I looked at my wife and called him "Munch." It was a dumb nickname but it was perfect for him. My little munchkin. We spent the night at a hotel. I had no idea what I was doing with a baby. Thankfully my wife was there. Then we got on a plane and flew home the next day.
I even remember my first diaper change. We were on a United Airlines flight from New York to San Francisco. My wife had a headache. I said I would change his diaper. I took him to the bathroom and laid out the little diaper changing pad. How hard could this really be? I took off his diaper, wiped him, and turned around to throw it away. When I turned back, I was looking at the Trevi Fountain. (Google it, people.) Someone forgot to warn me that a baby boy will pee like this when you take off his diaper. OOPS! Live and learn. I remember it like it was yesterday.
But what do you feel when your perfect baby isn't? I don't mean that he punches another kid or doesn't do his homework. Heck, I barely did homework from 3rd grade through my junior year of high school. All kids make mistakes. All kids screw up. But what do you feel when your child has problems?
We have all experienced pain. I lost both of my parents. It was two different ways. My dad passed away suddenly, unexpectedly. With my mom, we knew it was coming. Both sucked. Both hurt. But we all know starting at about 9 that life means death. We all have to go. (Although I don't for a minute believe the end of the world is tomorrow.) So that pain comes and we can grieve.
Maybe we lose a friend. Maybe we have our heart broken. That pain is real too. It hurts. We find a way to deal with it.
But what do you do when the pain can't be fixed? Today, my oldest son has to go to LA for a few weeks. Alone. I can't be there with him. And it hit me today - I can't fix him. I want to. I need to. But I can't. Its a tradition in my family. Dad could always fix anything. Need a water pump for a 71 Skylark while you are stuck in the middle of NY? Dad can find one. Need an extra $20 to take your girlfriend on a date? Dad can help you out. Need to get over a broken heart? Dad has a remedy for that. Need to get over a fight with mom? Dad knows how to do that too. Can't move and need a wheelchair that will help you get around at the beach? Yep, dad could get that too.
But now dad doesn't have a fix. Dad can't just make this go away. I can't. And if my dad was here today, he couldn't either. Its a feeling of helplessness that I can't explain. I don't know the relationship between moms and sons or between moms and daughters. I know the relationship between dad and son. Its a special one, and I guess a lot like the relationship between a mother and a daughter. But when the son can't be fixed and when the son has problems that the dad can't solve, what do you do?
I wish I had an answer. Green Day says make the best of life and don't ask why. "It's not a question/but a lesson learned in time." If I take this approach, I guess I don't need an answer. But it seems lacking. It seems like the Budweiser commercial. "Why ask why, try Bud Dry." We see how well that made it. They haven't made Bud Dry since about 1988. It sucked - or so I was told.
Maybe now is not the time for an answer. Maybe now is the time to just ask questions. Maybe there is no answer today, this week, this month. Maybe the answer will come to me in time. Maybe the answer is that he ended up with us because he needed people who could give him the resources that he needed. After all, the odds of a child born in New York and ending up with a family from California are pretty slim. The odds of that child being able to live with two biological siblings are even slimmer. So maybe that is it. Maybe its simple. Someone had a plan for him and knew he would be special. And because he was special, he needed people who could give him access to the things that would give him some quality of life. At least for now, that answer is satisfying enough.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
I'm so sorry
A wise person once told me that saying sorry is the difference between being a man and a mouse. I think there is something to that. In fact, I have thought it for a few days, but I haven't had a minute to write about it.
Saying sorry is interesting. I doesn't really fix the problem. Look, Mike Vick can say he is sorry all he wants but there are still dead dogs. Barry Bonds can say he is sorry, oh wait, sorry. He would never say he is sorry. I guess that is why, while I hate what Vick did, I want to see him succeed. (I in no way condone what Vick did.) Dude was given a second chance because he admitted his mistake, as bad as it was, and is trying to be a better person. Bonds can't admit he did anything wrong, even with a small conviction over his head.
So as I was thinking of this, The Script came on. I was listening to the words: "They say bad things happen for a reason/But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding." Sometimes when bad things happen, there are wise words to help.
For example, when you screw up, a bad thing could happen. You miss your traffic ticket court date and a warrant is issued for you. Having a warrant for your arrest is a bad thing. Even if the cops aren't going to come pick you up, its bad. You don't want those floating around out there. But, if you say you are sorry, it will help. At least, the Judge will see you are a man. You are owning up to your mistakes.
So, with that said, let me start with "I'm sorry." I am sorry to the people I made fun of for things they could not control. Yes, I was a jackass when I was younger. (Caveat: I am not sorry for making fun of debt collectors. Those dweebs can get a job that doesn't require you to be an ass 24/7. I am also not sorry for making fun of the radio DJ who used the R word and I may have said he talks like he has marbles in his mouth. He still talks like that and while he may not be able to control it, he could learn to open his diarrhea filled mouth. That would solve the problem.)
I am sorry to the people I hit harder than I meant to or had to. I am sorry I punched you out of the door. You probably deserved it for not being nice to my wife, but I shouldn't have responded that way.
I am sorry to my parents. I wasn't always the best son. I know that. I tried. I did the best I could. I wish I could explain that to you now, but I can't. I am sorry that I can't explain it.
I am sorry to my kids. Look, there is no book on how to be a parent. We learn from our examples - our parents. I parent like my dad did. There is good and bad with it. I know. I yell. I get upset. I totally understand. One day, you will understand that this parenting stuff is harder than it looks.
I am sorry to my wife. The last few weeks, no wait, months, have sucked. We fight more than we should. I am stressed. I know. For some reason, you put up with me. I am sorry I can't fix everything. I wish I could. I wish I could more than you know.
I am sorry to that group of people who know who they are (and aren't reading this because of who they are). Sometimes, I fuck up. I don't mean to. I don't try to. I mean to do good deeds. Sometimes good deeds turn bad. And I know none of you think I need to say it, but I do.
And I am sorry to anyone else who I have hurt - either intentionally or not. I am sorry for not always being a great friend, or even a good friend. I am sorry that I don't pick up the phone and call as often as I should. Yeah, Facebook is great, but its not quite the same thing. I am sorry I don't write you a letter or send an email. I know I should.
And while I am apologizing, let me be perfectly clear: there are some things for which I shouldn't apologize. No, won't apologize for. Ever.
I am not going to apologize for advocating for my kids. Ever. Look, they are kids. They will always be my kids. At 11, 9, 7 and 1. At 21, 19, 17 and 11. At 31, 29, 27 and 21. At 41, 39, 37, and 31. And as smart as they may be, they are never going to have the same life experiences, or the same amount of life experience that I have. I am going to advocate for them. Sure, it may not be as much as they get older, but especially when they are young, I am going to get upset, get annoyed. If you are supposed to help my kids and you don't, I will give you another chance. Maybe even 3. But if you continue to fuck with my kids, I do have a breaking point. I will yell. I may make you cry. I will not apologize.
I will not apologize if you hurt my family and I kick your ass. I got in some dumb fights when I was younger. 7th grade over some comment some kid made to me. 9th grade, 10th grade. Hell, back in like 4th grade. I haven't been in a fight since my freshman year of college. Its like 20 years. But, if you hurt my family, I will kick your ass. I promise. And I won't say I am sorry after.
I will not apologize if I do what I think is right. If you are dying, I may not tell you everything. I may hide some things from you. I don't do it out of hate or spite or because I am a dick, I do it because I care. I do it because I do not want to hurt you. I do it because I know you have bigger issues in life than my issues. I promise I don't mean to hurt you by doing it, but I also promise I will not apologize for it. Nope. Not going to happen.
Yes, a real man stands up and apologizes. A man will admit when he has made a mistake. I admit to my mistakes. But there are sometimes when a man shouldn't, can't and won't apologize. I won't say I am sorry for those things. For everything else, I am sorry.
Saying sorry is interesting. I doesn't really fix the problem. Look, Mike Vick can say he is sorry all he wants but there are still dead dogs. Barry Bonds can say he is sorry, oh wait, sorry. He would never say he is sorry. I guess that is why, while I hate what Vick did, I want to see him succeed. (I in no way condone what Vick did.) Dude was given a second chance because he admitted his mistake, as bad as it was, and is trying to be a better person. Bonds can't admit he did anything wrong, even with a small conviction over his head.
So as I was thinking of this, The Script came on. I was listening to the words: "They say bad things happen for a reason/But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding." Sometimes when bad things happen, there are wise words to help.
For example, when you screw up, a bad thing could happen. You miss your traffic ticket court date and a warrant is issued for you. Having a warrant for your arrest is a bad thing. Even if the cops aren't going to come pick you up, its bad. You don't want those floating around out there. But, if you say you are sorry, it will help. At least, the Judge will see you are a man. You are owning up to your mistakes.
So, with that said, let me start with "I'm sorry." I am sorry to the people I made fun of for things they could not control. Yes, I was a jackass when I was younger. (Caveat: I am not sorry for making fun of debt collectors. Those dweebs can get a job that doesn't require you to be an ass 24/7. I am also not sorry for making fun of the radio DJ who used the R word and I may have said he talks like he has marbles in his mouth. He still talks like that and while he may not be able to control it, he could learn to open his diarrhea filled mouth. That would solve the problem.)
I am sorry to the people I hit harder than I meant to or had to. I am sorry I punched you out of the door. You probably deserved it for not being nice to my wife, but I shouldn't have responded that way.
I am sorry to my parents. I wasn't always the best son. I know that. I tried. I did the best I could. I wish I could explain that to you now, but I can't. I am sorry that I can't explain it.
I am sorry to my kids. Look, there is no book on how to be a parent. We learn from our examples - our parents. I parent like my dad did. There is good and bad with it. I know. I yell. I get upset. I totally understand. One day, you will understand that this parenting stuff is harder than it looks.
I am sorry to my wife. The last few weeks, no wait, months, have sucked. We fight more than we should. I am stressed. I know. For some reason, you put up with me. I am sorry I can't fix everything. I wish I could. I wish I could more than you know.
I am sorry to that group of people who know who they are (and aren't reading this because of who they are). Sometimes, I fuck up. I don't mean to. I don't try to. I mean to do good deeds. Sometimes good deeds turn bad. And I know none of you think I need to say it, but I do.
And I am sorry to anyone else who I have hurt - either intentionally or not. I am sorry for not always being a great friend, or even a good friend. I am sorry that I don't pick up the phone and call as often as I should. Yeah, Facebook is great, but its not quite the same thing. I am sorry I don't write you a letter or send an email. I know I should.
And while I am apologizing, let me be perfectly clear: there are some things for which I shouldn't apologize. No, won't apologize for. Ever.
I am not going to apologize for advocating for my kids. Ever. Look, they are kids. They will always be my kids. At 11, 9, 7 and 1. At 21, 19, 17 and 11. At 31, 29, 27 and 21. At 41, 39, 37, and 31. And as smart as they may be, they are never going to have the same life experiences, or the same amount of life experience that I have. I am going to advocate for them. Sure, it may not be as much as they get older, but especially when they are young, I am going to get upset, get annoyed. If you are supposed to help my kids and you don't, I will give you another chance. Maybe even 3. But if you continue to fuck with my kids, I do have a breaking point. I will yell. I may make you cry. I will not apologize.
I will not apologize if you hurt my family and I kick your ass. I got in some dumb fights when I was younger. 7th grade over some comment some kid made to me. 9th grade, 10th grade. Hell, back in like 4th grade. I haven't been in a fight since my freshman year of college. Its like 20 years. But, if you hurt my family, I will kick your ass. I promise. And I won't say I am sorry after.
I will not apologize if I do what I think is right. If you are dying, I may not tell you everything. I may hide some things from you. I don't do it out of hate or spite or because I am a dick, I do it because I care. I do it because I do not want to hurt you. I do it because I know you have bigger issues in life than my issues. I promise I don't mean to hurt you by doing it, but I also promise I will not apologize for it. Nope. Not going to happen.
Yes, a real man stands up and apologizes. A man will admit when he has made a mistake. I admit to my mistakes. But there are sometimes when a man shouldn't, can't and won't apologize. I won't say I am sorry for those things. For everything else, I am sorry.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
On death and dying
As anyone who is reading this knows, I recently lost my mom. Cancer blows. A lot. Its tough now that I have lost both my parents. Not even 40 yet. Yeah, I know. Some people have it worse than me. I get it. Doesn't make it hurt any less. I wasn't overly close with my mom, but there is still a pain. But this isn't about me. This is about what people should do when a friend or loved one loses someone. Call it Jon's Commandments on Death and Dying.
1. Thou shalt not say "Its for the best." Really? The best? No, you know whats for the best? Its for the best if people didn't get fucked up diseases like cancer. Its for the best when someone gets a chance to say goodbye to a loved one. Its for the best if people wouldn't open their idiotic mouths and spill out shit like this.
Lets think about it. The best is a good thing. Michael Jordan was the best. Pele was the best. Bruce Springsteen is called The Boss because he is the best. I am not the best. See, how that works? You don't walk around and say "Osama bin Laden was the best terrorist." There is no such thing as a good terrorist. Get it?
Now, if the survivor comes up to you and you are talking about it and he or she says "I lost my mom but at least she is not suffering anymore" then feel free to make a comment. That is an opening. You can say something at that point. Still, avoid the best. Maybe "I am sorry for your loss. Its good that she is not in pain." See, still not using the best.
You think I make this crap up? When I lost my dad, my aunt said it was for the best. WTF? I lost my dad. I was 29 years old. He was 63. I'm sorry. Anytime someone does before 70 its not for the best. Its not even good. Its a life unlived. Its potential lost. At 63 my dad was still 10 times smarter than me. He accomplished more in his last year of life than I did in my first 20. What exactly is good about it? Sure, he had Parkinsons and some bullshit leukemia that I have never heard of. But his brain worked. His body worked when he needed it to. He managed to walk me down the aisle at my wedding. He was there when I graduated from law school. Fuck that crap. Its not for the best. Yeah, and I am bitter. I know.
2. Thou shalt not post on Facebook before the closest living relative. Yes you, dumbass who can't get off Facebook. (And I know some of you are reading this through Facebook or through a link from Facebook. Don't take it personally. If I am still your friend on Facebook it means you didn't do this.) Look, when someone dies, it sucks. But it sucks more for the people who are closest.
Anyone who has lost someone knows what I mean. Sure, when my grandfather passed away, I was sad. It sucked. But you know what? It sucked for my mom 10 times more. When a friend's mom passed away, it sucked. And I know he had it so much worse than I did. When a client's son recently passed away, I was sad. Maybe its lame for me to be sad, but I was. But I sure as hell know that my client had it a million times worse than I had it.
If your aunt passes away, its sad. Aw...I feel for you. However, your aunts kids are much worse off than you are. Again, personal experience. How dare you announce to everyone what a loss you have had. How about giving those of us who were her children a chance to process it. The morning she passed away? Really? Screw you. Yeah, you had a loss. Yeah, you need sympathy. I am sure it was so hard for you. Oh wait. You didn't bother coming to the funeral but you had to get all of the sympathy from your Facebook friends? If you don't go to the funeral, then don't bother telling everyone how sad you are and dont but that BS on Facebook.
3. Thou shalt not be a jackass over the estate. I don't know which is worse - people fighting in a divorce or people fighting over someone's estate. Look, there is a good reason for a will. It makes sense to have one. I highly suggest it and would be happy to recommend a good estate planning attorney near you. I know one in almost every state. But not everything is covered in a will or a trust.
For example, lets say you have a will that gives your money to A and B. Great. What about the knick-knacks in the house? Those little tchotchkes need to be given to someone. So, when you find a picture of your sibling as a baby, GIVE HIM THE FUCKING PICTURE. It doesn't matter if you like your sibling or not. Its just human decency. What are you going to do with a picture of your sibling? Throw it away. Yeah, thats environmentally friendly. Oh wait, no its not. And Goodwill doesn't want that crap. Unless your sibling is Diane Lane or Adam Levine or some other famous person that people of the opposite sex would find attractive, no one wants that stupid picture. Oh, well, no one except your sibling!
Those books on the bookshelf? Yeah, I know. So meaningful that you don't even know what they are for. Trust me - the sibling who wants it wants it for a reason. Do you really think anyone else cares about a PhD thesis on the chemical structure of some chemical thing that 10 people in the world understand? NO!!!! Am I clear? NO ONE CARES. Again, except the sibling. Give him the damn book. And that 40 year old book? Yep, no one wants that either. It has no value. Just man up (or woman up) and give it to him. Are you that much of a bastard?
4. Thou shalt not tell anyone not to come to a funeral. This should not be a surprise to anyone, but apparently it is: the funeral is not about the living. Its a way to honor the dead. Go look it up.
Every single religion. Even the nonsense cults agree that a funeral is a way to honor the dead. Again, nothing about the living there. Even the Wyoming Funeral Directors Association say its a way to honor and remember the deceased. (Yes, Wyoming has a funeral directors association. I don't know how many members they have - 5? 10? But it exists. Google it.)
Thus, if you won't go to a funeral because little Jackie is going to be there and you don't like little Jackie then you are an asshole. A big one. Yep. That means you think the funeral is about you. It isn't. And it also means that you don't care enough about the deceased to show your respects. Yep. There are no ifs, ands or buts about this. If you can't act like an adult for 30 minutes, then you shouldn't be there. (See commandment 5 below.) I don't care if you think Jackie is a loser. At least Jackie cares enough to show up. In my book, that makes Jackie a pretty good person.
You want to grieve? Sit shiva. Go dance a jig. Do whatever it is that folks do. I don't know. I don't really get the whole grieving process. I suck at it. Big time. Yep, I still don't think I have properly grieved for my dad and its been 8 1/2 years. I know. I suck at it. But there is a process that you can go through. The funeral isn't about you. Clear?
5. Thou shalt say something to the people who go to the funeral. Yes, its for people who can act grown up. You don't have to be a grown up. I remember being about 11. A friend's dad passed away. Talk about sucking for someone. My mom took 3 friends and me to the funeral. We wore our black suits. (Yes, you MUST wear a black suit to a funeral if you are a man and a black outfit if you are a woman. There are no exceptions. You don't own a black suit? Buy one. Keep it in your closet. Try it on once a year. And no sandals. Are we 12 and in middle school? Sure, sandals can be classy and dressed up. Not at a funeral.) We sat quietly and were there to support our friend and pay our respects to his dad. I didn't understand much of a Catholic funeral at the time. But I acted like a grown up.
So, when someone you love dies, and it will happen, then you need to go up and say something to the people who cared about your loved one enough to show up. I don't care if some douchebag from high school that you hate shows up. Man up and say "Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me." I don't care if it doesn't mean jackshit to you. Do it. Its the right thing to do. Again, its not about you. Its about the deceased. Do you mean to tell me that your mom wouldn't want you thanking someone for coming to an event? I know better. Every mom teaches that to her kids. Its learned in freaking Kindergarten. Its one of the very basic concepts of civilization - thank people.
Remember the good times and not the bad times. I know its easy to say. And I know I don't do this all the time. I think of my mom in her bed before she passed away instead of her playing soccer in the Old Timers Game. I remember my dad needing help to the bathroom instead of the drive to Virginia in his Corvette. Its hard. But I think its the right thing to do. And as of tonight, I am going to try it.
One final note: Oh, and when I die, if you are reading this, let me be clear: party. Big ole party. I don't want people sitting around crying over me. My life is not a perfect life. I fuck up plenty. Just ask anyone who knows me or knew me. Seriously, find the guys on Facebook who knew me in Freehold when I was in elementary school or when I got kicked out of middle school. Find the folks who knew me in San Diego in high school. Find people in Sacramento. I fuck up. I admit it. I don't want people sitting around saying "Oh he was such a great guy." Do I do good things once in a while? Sure. Have I done something great? Nope. No cure for cancer. No way to fix a broken heart. So do me a favor, come to my house after the funeral, bring some food, turn on the music, and enjoy yourselves.
One final, final note: seriously. Follow these 5 commandments. Its not because I say so. Its because its the human, decent thing to do.
1. Thou shalt not say "Its for the best." Really? The best? No, you know whats for the best? Its for the best if people didn't get fucked up diseases like cancer. Its for the best when someone gets a chance to say goodbye to a loved one. Its for the best if people wouldn't open their idiotic mouths and spill out shit like this.
Lets think about it. The best is a good thing. Michael Jordan was the best. Pele was the best. Bruce Springsteen is called The Boss because he is the best. I am not the best. See, how that works? You don't walk around and say "Osama bin Laden was the best terrorist." There is no such thing as a good terrorist. Get it?
Now, if the survivor comes up to you and you are talking about it and he or she says "I lost my mom but at least she is not suffering anymore" then feel free to make a comment. That is an opening. You can say something at that point. Still, avoid the best. Maybe "I am sorry for your loss. Its good that she is not in pain." See, still not using the best.
You think I make this crap up? When I lost my dad, my aunt said it was for the best. WTF? I lost my dad. I was 29 years old. He was 63. I'm sorry. Anytime someone does before 70 its not for the best. Its not even good. Its a life unlived. Its potential lost. At 63 my dad was still 10 times smarter than me. He accomplished more in his last year of life than I did in my first 20. What exactly is good about it? Sure, he had Parkinsons and some bullshit leukemia that I have never heard of. But his brain worked. His body worked when he needed it to. He managed to walk me down the aisle at my wedding. He was there when I graduated from law school. Fuck that crap. Its not for the best. Yeah, and I am bitter. I know.
2. Thou shalt not post on Facebook before the closest living relative. Yes you, dumbass who can't get off Facebook. (And I know some of you are reading this through Facebook or through a link from Facebook. Don't take it personally. If I am still your friend on Facebook it means you didn't do this.) Look, when someone dies, it sucks. But it sucks more for the people who are closest.
Anyone who has lost someone knows what I mean. Sure, when my grandfather passed away, I was sad. It sucked. But you know what? It sucked for my mom 10 times more. When a friend's mom passed away, it sucked. And I know he had it so much worse than I did. When a client's son recently passed away, I was sad. Maybe its lame for me to be sad, but I was. But I sure as hell know that my client had it a million times worse than I had it.
If your aunt passes away, its sad. Aw...I feel for you. However, your aunts kids are much worse off than you are. Again, personal experience. How dare you announce to everyone what a loss you have had. How about giving those of us who were her children a chance to process it. The morning she passed away? Really? Screw you. Yeah, you had a loss. Yeah, you need sympathy. I am sure it was so hard for you. Oh wait. You didn't bother coming to the funeral but you had to get all of the sympathy from your Facebook friends? If you don't go to the funeral, then don't bother telling everyone how sad you are and dont but that BS on Facebook.
3. Thou shalt not be a jackass over the estate. I don't know which is worse - people fighting in a divorce or people fighting over someone's estate. Look, there is a good reason for a will. It makes sense to have one. I highly suggest it and would be happy to recommend a good estate planning attorney near you. I know one in almost every state. But not everything is covered in a will or a trust.
For example, lets say you have a will that gives your money to A and B. Great. What about the knick-knacks in the house? Those little tchotchkes need to be given to someone. So, when you find a picture of your sibling as a baby, GIVE HIM THE FUCKING PICTURE. It doesn't matter if you like your sibling or not. Its just human decency. What are you going to do with a picture of your sibling? Throw it away. Yeah, thats environmentally friendly. Oh wait, no its not. And Goodwill doesn't want that crap. Unless your sibling is Diane Lane or Adam Levine or some other famous person that people of the opposite sex would find attractive, no one wants that stupid picture. Oh, well, no one except your sibling!
Those books on the bookshelf? Yeah, I know. So meaningful that you don't even know what they are for. Trust me - the sibling who wants it wants it for a reason. Do you really think anyone else cares about a PhD thesis on the chemical structure of some chemical thing that 10 people in the world understand? NO!!!! Am I clear? NO ONE CARES. Again, except the sibling. Give him the damn book. And that 40 year old book? Yep, no one wants that either. It has no value. Just man up (or woman up) and give it to him. Are you that much of a bastard?
4. Thou shalt not tell anyone not to come to a funeral. This should not be a surprise to anyone, but apparently it is: the funeral is not about the living. Its a way to honor the dead. Go look it up.
Every single religion. Even the nonsense cults agree that a funeral is a way to honor the dead. Again, nothing about the living there. Even the Wyoming Funeral Directors Association say its a way to honor and remember the deceased. (Yes, Wyoming has a funeral directors association. I don't know how many members they have - 5? 10? But it exists. Google it.)
Thus, if you won't go to a funeral because little Jackie is going to be there and you don't like little Jackie then you are an asshole. A big one. Yep. That means you think the funeral is about you. It isn't. And it also means that you don't care enough about the deceased to show your respects. Yep. There are no ifs, ands or buts about this. If you can't act like an adult for 30 minutes, then you shouldn't be there. (See commandment 5 below.) I don't care if you think Jackie is a loser. At least Jackie cares enough to show up. In my book, that makes Jackie a pretty good person.
You want to grieve? Sit shiva. Go dance a jig. Do whatever it is that folks do. I don't know. I don't really get the whole grieving process. I suck at it. Big time. Yep, I still don't think I have properly grieved for my dad and its been 8 1/2 years. I know. I suck at it. But there is a process that you can go through. The funeral isn't about you. Clear?
5. Thou shalt say something to the people who go to the funeral. Yes, its for people who can act grown up. You don't have to be a grown up. I remember being about 11. A friend's dad passed away. Talk about sucking for someone. My mom took 3 friends and me to the funeral. We wore our black suits. (Yes, you MUST wear a black suit to a funeral if you are a man and a black outfit if you are a woman. There are no exceptions. You don't own a black suit? Buy one. Keep it in your closet. Try it on once a year. And no sandals. Are we 12 and in middle school? Sure, sandals can be classy and dressed up. Not at a funeral.) We sat quietly and were there to support our friend and pay our respects to his dad. I didn't understand much of a Catholic funeral at the time. But I acted like a grown up.
So, when someone you love dies, and it will happen, then you need to go up and say something to the people who cared about your loved one enough to show up. I don't care if some douchebag from high school that you hate shows up. Man up and say "Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me." I don't care if it doesn't mean jackshit to you. Do it. Its the right thing to do. Again, its not about you. Its about the deceased. Do you mean to tell me that your mom wouldn't want you thanking someone for coming to an event? I know better. Every mom teaches that to her kids. Its learned in freaking Kindergarten. Its one of the very basic concepts of civilization - thank people.
Remember the good times and not the bad times. I know its easy to say. And I know I don't do this all the time. I think of my mom in her bed before she passed away instead of her playing soccer in the Old Timers Game. I remember my dad needing help to the bathroom instead of the drive to Virginia in his Corvette. Its hard. But I think its the right thing to do. And as of tonight, I am going to try it.
One final note: Oh, and when I die, if you are reading this, let me be clear: party. Big ole party. I don't want people sitting around crying over me. My life is not a perfect life. I fuck up plenty. Just ask anyone who knows me or knew me. Seriously, find the guys on Facebook who knew me in Freehold when I was in elementary school or when I got kicked out of middle school. Find the folks who knew me in San Diego in high school. Find people in Sacramento. I fuck up. I admit it. I don't want people sitting around saying "Oh he was such a great guy." Do I do good things once in a while? Sure. Have I done something great? Nope. No cure for cancer. No way to fix a broken heart. So do me a favor, come to my house after the funeral, bring some food, turn on the music, and enjoy yourselves.
One final, final note: seriously. Follow these 5 commandments. Its not because I say so. Its because its the human, decent thing to do.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
The R Word
Okay, another rant. People just bug me these days. I don't know why. Maybe I am more sensitive than normal. Maybe its that time of the year. (Oh, don't pretend to be offended by that. Its not offensive.) Maybe I just don't have patience. Maybe people are just dumber than normal.
Let me start with what I posted on my Facebook page last week. There is some douche who has a radio show in Sacramento. He thinks he is funny. And he can be funny. He has an intern and a producer. And by producer I mean a marble-mouthed dweeb who can't complete a sentence in English without sounding like the teacher in Peanuts. Seriously. I don't know how you make a living on the radio if you can't fucking enunciate. (Trying spelling enunciate correctly. Its a bitch. They should put that in the Spelling Bee. It sure wasn't on my speak and spell.) Anyway, these guys apparently make a good living on the radio, better than most of us make. But apparently they think calling people a retard is funny.
Why is it not funny? For the same reason its not funny to call someone a "n***er" or a "sp**" or a "f**" a la Kobe Bryant. Its not funny to make fun of someone for something that they cannot control that differentiates them. Sorry. Its just not. If I were to walk around and start dropping the N word on folks, I would have my ass kicked. And rightfully so. As a matter of fact, I would kick my own ass if I used that word. I would lift my leg and smack myself in my ample rear. And I would deserve it.
But, its worse to call someone a retard. Why? I mean, after all, its just a name, right? With this word, what I shall now call the "r" word, you are making fun of people who, by their very nature, cannot defend themselves. Sorry, most folks who are mentally challenged cannot have an argument with you about why you a worthless piece of crap who should go for a long walk off of a short pier. They don't have the mental capacity for it. Just like some people cannot change their race or nationality, these folks cannot take a pill to fix whatever you think is wrong with them.
So why can I call these dweebs names or make fun of this dickweed's lack of ability to speak clearly? Because you can control being a dumbass. You can control how you speak, unless you have a stutter. You can control the jokes you make about people and what you call them. You can learn not to be panty-waste. And if you think you are so funny and that making these jokes are funny, I would be more than happy to sit down with you and play snaps. Trust me, I will win. There isn't much I can do, but I am pretty good at the insults.
There is a lot that is funny. My ability to sit down and eat chocolate cupcakes is funny. The fact that Baby Got Back was a song, or that it was a hit, is funny. Jokes about JaFatboy Russell are funny. Jokes about Donald Trump's hair are funny. Jerry Seinfeld is funny. Family Guy is freaking hilarious. We can agree on most of this. Jokes about someone not being so smart or having a mental illness just aren't funny. I don't know why people think its funny. Especially those folks who are in a position of being able to use their words to communicate with people.
I just' dont get it. I think we should start a campaign. A campaign to kick the crap out of douches who don't get it. These are just assholes. Sorry. There is no other way to put it.
Back to your regular programming.
Let me start with what I posted on my Facebook page last week. There is some douche who has a radio show in Sacramento. He thinks he is funny. And he can be funny. He has an intern and a producer. And by producer I mean a marble-mouthed dweeb who can't complete a sentence in English without sounding like the teacher in Peanuts. Seriously. I don't know how you make a living on the radio if you can't fucking enunciate. (Trying spelling enunciate correctly. Its a bitch. They should put that in the Spelling Bee. It sure wasn't on my speak and spell.) Anyway, these guys apparently make a good living on the radio, better than most of us make. But apparently they think calling people a retard is funny.
Why is it not funny? For the same reason its not funny to call someone a "n***er" or a "sp**" or a "f**" a la Kobe Bryant. Its not funny to make fun of someone for something that they cannot control that differentiates them. Sorry. Its just not. If I were to walk around and start dropping the N word on folks, I would have my ass kicked. And rightfully so. As a matter of fact, I would kick my own ass if I used that word. I would lift my leg and smack myself in my ample rear. And I would deserve it.
But, its worse to call someone a retard. Why? I mean, after all, its just a name, right? With this word, what I shall now call the "r" word, you are making fun of people who, by their very nature, cannot defend themselves. Sorry, most folks who are mentally challenged cannot have an argument with you about why you a worthless piece of crap who should go for a long walk off of a short pier. They don't have the mental capacity for it. Just like some people cannot change their race or nationality, these folks cannot take a pill to fix whatever you think is wrong with them.
So why can I call these dweebs names or make fun of this dickweed's lack of ability to speak clearly? Because you can control being a dumbass. You can control how you speak, unless you have a stutter. You can control the jokes you make about people and what you call them. You can learn not to be panty-waste. And if you think you are so funny and that making these jokes are funny, I would be more than happy to sit down with you and play snaps. Trust me, I will win. There isn't much I can do, but I am pretty good at the insults.
There is a lot that is funny. My ability to sit down and eat chocolate cupcakes is funny. The fact that Baby Got Back was a song, or that it was a hit, is funny. Jokes about JaFatboy Russell are funny. Jokes about Donald Trump's hair are funny. Jerry Seinfeld is funny. Family Guy is freaking hilarious. We can agree on most of this. Jokes about someone not being so smart or having a mental illness just aren't funny. I don't know why people think its funny. Especially those folks who are in a position of being able to use their words to communicate with people.
I just' dont get it. I think we should start a campaign. A campaign to kick the crap out of douches who don't get it. These are just assholes. Sorry. There is no other way to put it.
Back to your regular programming.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
WTF is wrong with people
Okay, I have to get this off my chest. People are whiners. No, not every person. But a lot of people. Maybe even most people. Not most people. But a fair number of people.
Lets see. People whine about today's kids. What, exactly, is wrong with today's kids? Sure, the boys walk around with their pants around their ankles. They apparently think we want to see their dirty tighty-whities. We don't. Trust me. The girls think that shorts should stop at such a spot that they look like swimsuits. A little extra fabric wouldn't kill them. It would probably help.
But adults, and this means folks of my generation too, seem to think that every kid out there is causing trouble. My dad once told me that each generation has it a bit harder growing up then the one before. Sure, they have iPods, iPads, iPhones, i(P)whatevers. They have computers, that internet thingy and all of its tubes that Al Gore invented.
But they also have a lot of crap to deal with. I can barely do the math homework for my 4th grader. I can't keep up with it. They have to deal with making mistakes and the whole world seeing them. People putting things up on YouTube or blogging (ironic, isn't it?) or Facebooking about it. Heck, we screwed up and our parents knew and maybe a few friends. Kids screw up now and everyone and their mother sees it. Plus about a billion folks in China and India. Make a mistake now as a kid and have someone videotape it and it could affect getting in to college or a job.
And they have to deal with stereotypes. They walk down the street and suddenly they are drug dealers because their pants sag. Or they are gang bangers for wearing red or blue or whatever the color is. (I am pretty sure there is no rainbow gang, but that probably isn't far behind in being claimed by these perfect adults.) The kids don't show proper respect or they aren't taught manners.
Here is an idea: maybe they just are having a rough time. Maybe dad died and mom is working two jobs. Maybe they don't have a role model. But what do these folks do? Do they offer to help out? No. They just criticize the kids and lump them all together. I am sure it makes them feel better. Wait, let's try this: All adults who whine about kids are just big fat whiners. All adults who want to stereotype kids are kidists. (Think racists but with kid instead of race. Get it?) All adults who do this are douchebags. There. I think that is perfect.
But there are more whiners. What about those people who complain about where they live? You don't like your town - move. Ya, you Joe and Gavin Madouche. Sacramento isn't cool enough for you? Go back to your failing casino in Vegas. Oh, but this isn't limited to rich dweebs who don't know how to run a professional sports franchise. I get people who live in my town who complain its turning into LA. Really? LA? I like the sun, but Elk Grove is to LA as food is to electricity. (I learned that by helping my 4th grader with his homework!) They aren't even in the same category. If you don't like where you live, because we live in such a great country, you can move your fat, useless arse out of my town. If you need help, as my mom used to say, I will pack your shmatas. (Yiddish for rags.)
Then there is stupid tv show called "Pregnant in Heels." Some its some chick who makes her living telling pregnant women what to do when they are pregnant. My guess is that it is rich people who pay for this. Normal folks can't afford to hire her and her fake accent. She sounds like a mix between fingernails down a chalk board and Madonna during her fake British accent phase.
So first this chick talks about how great it is that men buy a "push present" that is a diamond bracelet for their wives who deliver a baby. WTF? A push present? Your present is a baby. Yep, I am pretty sure that is a present. Stop being a whiner and expecting a present for delivering a baby. That's nonsense.
But then chick goes on about how she has a child, but apparently can't get pregnant. So, according to her, the only way to finish a family is to have another baby. As in, get pregnant again. Really? That is the only way to have a family? Um, on behalf of my three boys - F___ YOU! There are plenty of ways to have a family and getting pregnant is just one of them. That doesn't mean someone else's family is not as great as yours. You are a bitch if you think that getting pregnant makes a woman a mother. You clearly don't get it and you should go jump in the Hudson River. My wife was just as much a mother when we adopted our 3 boys as she is now after delivering our baby girl. If you don't understand that, then you are dumber than the other folks who whine about where they live or about "today's kids." You don't get it, you never will and your show should be cancelled solely because you are a schmuck.
That's all for now. More soon, I am sure.
Lets see. People whine about today's kids. What, exactly, is wrong with today's kids? Sure, the boys walk around with their pants around their ankles. They apparently think we want to see their dirty tighty-whities. We don't. Trust me. The girls think that shorts should stop at such a spot that they look like swimsuits. A little extra fabric wouldn't kill them. It would probably help.
But adults, and this means folks of my generation too, seem to think that every kid out there is causing trouble. My dad once told me that each generation has it a bit harder growing up then the one before. Sure, they have iPods, iPads, iPhones, i(P)whatevers. They have computers, that internet thingy and all of its tubes that Al Gore invented.
But they also have a lot of crap to deal with. I can barely do the math homework for my 4th grader. I can't keep up with it. They have to deal with making mistakes and the whole world seeing them. People putting things up on YouTube or blogging (ironic, isn't it?) or Facebooking about it. Heck, we screwed up and our parents knew and maybe a few friends. Kids screw up now and everyone and their mother sees it. Plus about a billion folks in China and India. Make a mistake now as a kid and have someone videotape it and it could affect getting in to college or a job.
And they have to deal with stereotypes. They walk down the street and suddenly they are drug dealers because their pants sag. Or they are gang bangers for wearing red or blue or whatever the color is. (I am pretty sure there is no rainbow gang, but that probably isn't far behind in being claimed by these perfect adults.) The kids don't show proper respect or they aren't taught manners.
Here is an idea: maybe they just are having a rough time. Maybe dad died and mom is working two jobs. Maybe they don't have a role model. But what do these folks do? Do they offer to help out? No. They just criticize the kids and lump them all together. I am sure it makes them feel better. Wait, let's try this: All adults who whine about kids are just big fat whiners. All adults who want to stereotype kids are kidists. (Think racists but with kid instead of race. Get it?) All adults who do this are douchebags. There. I think that is perfect.
But there are more whiners. What about those people who complain about where they live? You don't like your town - move. Ya, you Joe and Gavin Madouche. Sacramento isn't cool enough for you? Go back to your failing casino in Vegas. Oh, but this isn't limited to rich dweebs who don't know how to run a professional sports franchise. I get people who live in my town who complain its turning into LA. Really? LA? I like the sun, but Elk Grove is to LA as food is to electricity. (I learned that by helping my 4th grader with his homework!) They aren't even in the same category. If you don't like where you live, because we live in such a great country, you can move your fat, useless arse out of my town. If you need help, as my mom used to say, I will pack your shmatas. (Yiddish for rags.)
Then there is stupid tv show called "Pregnant in Heels." Some its some chick who makes her living telling pregnant women what to do when they are pregnant. My guess is that it is rich people who pay for this. Normal folks can't afford to hire her and her fake accent. She sounds like a mix between fingernails down a chalk board and Madonna during her fake British accent phase.
So first this chick talks about how great it is that men buy a "push present" that is a diamond bracelet for their wives who deliver a baby. WTF? A push present? Your present is a baby. Yep, I am pretty sure that is a present. Stop being a whiner and expecting a present for delivering a baby. That's nonsense.
But then chick goes on about how she has a child, but apparently can't get pregnant. So, according to her, the only way to finish a family is to have another baby. As in, get pregnant again. Really? That is the only way to have a family? Um, on behalf of my three boys - F___ YOU! There are plenty of ways to have a family and getting pregnant is just one of them. That doesn't mean someone else's family is not as great as yours. You are a bitch if you think that getting pregnant makes a woman a mother. You clearly don't get it and you should go jump in the Hudson River. My wife was just as much a mother when we adopted our 3 boys as she is now after delivering our baby girl. If you don't understand that, then you are dumber than the other folks who whine about where they live or about "today's kids." You don't get it, you never will and your show should be cancelled solely because you are a schmuck.
That's all for now. More soon, I am sure.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
A rant for me- cancer sucks
Some folks may be offended by this one. Some people may find it rude. There is profanity in it. I don't really care right now. I would suggest you stop reading now.
A few days ago on Facebook, I updated my status to "Dear Cancer: F*** you. Sincerely, Me." That wasn't right. I really meant "Dear Cancer: FUCK YOU. You are a mother fucking, son-of-a-bitch, fargin icehole (from Johnny Dangerously). You should be annihilated. You serve no useful purpose. You are a piece of crap. Sorry, crap. That is offensive to you. Sincerely, Most of society."
I started this just after getting back from what turned out to be my last visit with my mom. She closed her eyes after we left and didn't come back. Sure, she lived a few more weeks, but she didn't live. After all, just breathing isn't life. There has to be some quality to it.
Its interesting how this has affected me over the last 5 months. This was started five months ago today. It is ending now. Those 5 months have taught me so much, about me, my family, my friends. Things that I guess we all have to learn. I am just not sure I wanted to learn them before I hit 40.
My mom always told me that she would want someone to "pull the plug" on her. I always told her I couldn't do it. WRONG! When I saw her there and I knew she was in pain, suffering, I could have done it. I know now. I didn't know at 20, 25, 30, or even 35. Its impossible to know. But when you watch a loved one lying there and you realize she isn't the same person she was, you understand how people do it.
I also came to realize that there is value in physician assisted suicide. You don't have to like it. You don't have to agree with it. But when a sane, rational person knows there is an end, and its coming soon, that person should be able to go out on his or her own terms. I am sure my mom didn't want her last weeks to be the way the were, lying in hospice, unable to care for herself, unable to do the basic functions. If she had a choice, she would have gone another way. I think we all would. And why shouldn't we give people that option? I can't come up with a good reason.
I also realize we make decisions in haste in this life. Someone upsets us and we change things. Maybe we disown someone or we say something to someone we regret. Telling your brother that you are upset with your kid, especially an adult kid, is unproductive. Sorry, but what happens between a parent and adult child should be between the parent and adult child. So if I pissed off my mom, I am sorry. But that was our business. And no one else should be involved. That means you don't tell me I shouldn't be there for her funeral.
When we know its the last time we are going to see someone, we say things that need to be said - or needed to be said. Its those last moments when we are fortunate enough to say "I love you" to someone. That fixes everything. Those three words can't always fix problems, but when a loved one is dying, those three words can erase a decade of pain. My mom wasn't perfect, but neither was I. We fought. We saw things differently. She tried to protect me when I was younger. I tried to protect her when she got older. She didn't like it, but that was my decision to make and I wouldn't change it. It caused friction, but at the end of the day, when she called, I went. And when I had to leave, I said I love you. No one else was there to hear it, to see it, or to understand it. But when you have told people all of the issues, it makes it difficult, no impossible, for others to understand that dynamic and forgiveness.
It has been a challenge. Some days are good. Some days are harder. I wasn't overly close to my mom, especially the last 8 years or so. But I don't know that I needed to be. She understood the sacrifices that my dad made for us. I didn't make the same sacrifices, but sacrifices had to be made. And she got that. She may not have liked it, but she got it. I am sure of that. I just wish she could have told me. Because now I can't have that discussion with her - or my dad. Its odd. I don't have a parent to call, to talk to. It feels funny.
I know some good has come from it. I put together a fundraiser for her. We raised awareness of breast cancer, raised money, and did good for the community. She would be proud of that. But I also know that some "friends" haven't come through the way I would have expected them to. No calls, no emails. No offers of help or even a nice word. On the other hand, complete strangers have come out and helped, have gotten involved and, dare I say, become friends.
Its odd how death affects us. I am still pissed at cancer. I can't think of too many things crappier. Parkinsons, autism, cancer. That is my top three crappy things that suck. Absolutely no good comes from any of them.
So there it is. 5 months after I started with "Dear Cancer: Fuck you" I am still there. Cancer can still go kiss my ass. But I have also learned from this - death should be on our terms, even though it is often not. Parents and children have a special relationship and no one can understand that relationship, including siblings. Forgiveness should be given out more readily. And I am going to try to be a better person.
A few days ago on Facebook, I updated my status to "Dear Cancer: F*** you. Sincerely, Me." That wasn't right. I really meant "Dear Cancer: FUCK YOU. You are a mother fucking, son-of-a-bitch, fargin icehole (from Johnny Dangerously). You should be annihilated. You serve no useful purpose. You are a piece of crap. Sorry, crap. That is offensive to you. Sincerely, Most of society."
I started this just after getting back from what turned out to be my last visit with my mom. She closed her eyes after we left and didn't come back. Sure, she lived a few more weeks, but she didn't live. After all, just breathing isn't life. There has to be some quality to it.
Its interesting how this has affected me over the last 5 months. This was started five months ago today. It is ending now. Those 5 months have taught me so much, about me, my family, my friends. Things that I guess we all have to learn. I am just not sure I wanted to learn them before I hit 40.
My mom always told me that she would want someone to "pull the plug" on her. I always told her I couldn't do it. WRONG! When I saw her there and I knew she was in pain, suffering, I could have done it. I know now. I didn't know at 20, 25, 30, or even 35. Its impossible to know. But when you watch a loved one lying there and you realize she isn't the same person she was, you understand how people do it.
I also came to realize that there is value in physician assisted suicide. You don't have to like it. You don't have to agree with it. But when a sane, rational person knows there is an end, and its coming soon, that person should be able to go out on his or her own terms. I am sure my mom didn't want her last weeks to be the way the were, lying in hospice, unable to care for herself, unable to do the basic functions. If she had a choice, she would have gone another way. I think we all would. And why shouldn't we give people that option? I can't come up with a good reason.
I also realize we make decisions in haste in this life. Someone upsets us and we change things. Maybe we disown someone or we say something to someone we regret. Telling your brother that you are upset with your kid, especially an adult kid, is unproductive. Sorry, but what happens between a parent and adult child should be between the parent and adult child. So if I pissed off my mom, I am sorry. But that was our business. And no one else should be involved. That means you don't tell me I shouldn't be there for her funeral.
When we know its the last time we are going to see someone, we say things that need to be said - or needed to be said. Its those last moments when we are fortunate enough to say "I love you" to someone. That fixes everything. Those three words can't always fix problems, but when a loved one is dying, those three words can erase a decade of pain. My mom wasn't perfect, but neither was I. We fought. We saw things differently. She tried to protect me when I was younger. I tried to protect her when she got older. She didn't like it, but that was my decision to make and I wouldn't change it. It caused friction, but at the end of the day, when she called, I went. And when I had to leave, I said I love you. No one else was there to hear it, to see it, or to understand it. But when you have told people all of the issues, it makes it difficult, no impossible, for others to understand that dynamic and forgiveness.
It has been a challenge. Some days are good. Some days are harder. I wasn't overly close to my mom, especially the last 8 years or so. But I don't know that I needed to be. She understood the sacrifices that my dad made for us. I didn't make the same sacrifices, but sacrifices had to be made. And she got that. She may not have liked it, but she got it. I am sure of that. I just wish she could have told me. Because now I can't have that discussion with her - or my dad. Its odd. I don't have a parent to call, to talk to. It feels funny.
I know some good has come from it. I put together a fundraiser for her. We raised awareness of breast cancer, raised money, and did good for the community. She would be proud of that. But I also know that some "friends" haven't come through the way I would have expected them to. No calls, no emails. No offers of help or even a nice word. On the other hand, complete strangers have come out and helped, have gotten involved and, dare I say, become friends.
Its odd how death affects us. I am still pissed at cancer. I can't think of too many things crappier. Parkinsons, autism, cancer. That is my top three crappy things that suck. Absolutely no good comes from any of them.
So there it is. 5 months after I started with "Dear Cancer: Fuck you" I am still there. Cancer can still go kiss my ass. But I have also learned from this - death should be on our terms, even though it is often not. Parents and children have a special relationship and no one can understand that relationship, including siblings. Forgiveness should be given out more readily. And I am going to try to be a better person.
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