Thanks

I don't really know your name. Wait, I don't know your name at all. And, in fact, its not one person. Its a group of people, people who are anonymous to me, people who I have met, but whose names I did not learn. I admit it - I am bad with names. (I tell everyone who shows up at Sunday Soccer that I won't learn their name until they have been out 6 times.) Anyway, I want to say thank you.

December 2, 2008 I wrote my first post for this blog. I was not new to blogging. I was not new to getting things off my chest. This seemed like the perfect vehicle - I could blog and get things off my chest. What could be better?

Somewhere along the line, I slipped off track. (With apologies to Bruce Springsteen who wrote that line in "One Step up, Two Steps Back.") It went from a place where I could be pretty funny, a la Michael Phelps's fans against Kellogg to a dark place where I didn't rant, but cried. That is not funny. It wasn't funny then. It isn't funny now. A little history.............

I was 16 years old and I was a dork. Not the cool dork on Big Bang Theory. No, I was a bad student, who did just enough to get by in school, got into a few fights, and generally was the class clown. I enjoyed it. I met this girl. She was the prettiest girl in the school. She was smart. She was fun. And, for some reason that, 23 years later I cannot understand still, she wanted to go out with me. It was a surprise. It shocked me. But, who was I to say no to a date with a girl who was smart and pretty? I jumped on it!

We spent the next year and a half or so finishing high school, going on cheesy dates (yes, miniature golf and Dairy Queen was our first date), and slowly, at least for her, less so for me, we fell in love. I knew before I graduated high school that I loved this girl. And I told her so.

As for the rest of my life, I couldn't have told you what I was going to do, how, where, why or when. I did tell my dad and one of his friends, some big wig at Johnson & Johnson, that I would be a millionaire by 35.  (Newsflash: I didn't make it.) But I didn't need to know what I wanted to do, or how or any of that stuff, because somehow it would work out. It always did for me. And how I could I not believe that would happen? I was dating the most amazing girl I had ever met. If that worked out, why wouldn't everything else work out? Besides, my dad always told me I didn't need to know what I wanted to do when I was in high school.

We went to college. I was actually told by my guidance counselor not to bother applying - I couldn't get in to college. I applied anyway. I guess I don't like being told that I can't do things. I was accepted. I hated it. So I went home after a year and attended a junior college. Then, together, we decided to come to Sacramento. Once again, somehow, things worked out for me.

I decided when we came to Sacramento that I shouldn't push my luck - I called my mom and told her when we came home for Thanksgiving I wanted to go to the jewelry store and buy an engagement ring. She was supportive and helped me pick one out.

You see, things worked out. They always did. I didn't worry about it. But, today, as I sit here, I know why they worked out - the glass was always half full. Life didn't get me down. It happened. I tried my best and things worked out. I didn't worry about what other people said or did.

Anyway, back to the story. I interviewed for jobs during my senior year of college and took a job as an insurance adjuster. I turned down a great paying job at BofA as a computer programmer so I could "adjust claims," whatever that meant. After my training, I heard about this CPCU thing. I didn't know what it was, but I was told not to worry about it - I wasn't smart enough to earn it. There were 10 essays you had to write, get a recommendation from someone with a CPCU and have 3 years of experience in the industry. Just months after my 3 year anniversary, I earned my CPCU, which is still the hardest exams I have taken in my life.

I continued to work my way up the ladder. Jobs seemed to just fall into my lap. Then law school started. Heck, as a full time employee with a wife, taking 3 classes at night was not rocket science. I managed to find a way to get through that first year.

Early in the second year, we had a hiccup. We survived, even if I had to yell at some folks and lay into them pretty hard. We had a child, then two. Life was good. I graduated, took the bar exam, had surgery the very next day, and started my new job while I waited for bar results. Again, I couldn't complain too much.

Now, looking back, it is here when the bitterness began to creep in. You see, I wasn't spending my Friday nights at the beach, dreaming of going to college, marrying my dream girl, talking to my dad about what plans I had for my future. My future was here - and my dad wasn't. After my graduation, but before bar results came out, my dad died. We immediately went down for the funeral and my aunt, she who no longer speaks to me, said "This is a blessing." She went on and on about how now my mom wouldn't suffer taking care of my dad, who had Parkinson's Disease. I was 29 years old.

Bar results came and I passed, but so did my mom's dad, my Papa. My dad was the toughest man I ever knew, but my Papa was a close 2nd. This guy fought in the Gold Gloves boxing tournament back in the day - way back. Somehow, though, we managed to keep going. Two kids, a nice house, a good job.

One fateful day, about a year later, I started this little adventure of running my own law firm. On that same day, unbeknownst to us, our youngest son was born. So, the day I decide to start running a law firm is the same day our 3rd son was born. My wife, the brave soul that she is, convinced me, maybe us?, that we could handle this. So, we said yes to the son (not yes to the dress!) and two months later he came home.

I knew nothing about running a law firm and even less about practicing law. But I was pretty sure I could run a business. And I could sell sand to the folks living in the Sahara. So how hard could it be? We made it work........

My oldest son was diagnosed on the Autism spectrum shortly after that. More darkness crept in. I don't know how women deal with these things, but I know how men deal with them - we don't. Nope. I couldn't deal with it. I didn't deal with it. I faked it well.

My sister died. I found out after the funeral.

My son got worse. And worse. And, still worse.

But in there, somewhere, my little girl, against all odds, was conceived. She came into this world on 09/09/09. It had to be a miracle, right? It had to be a sign. But more darkness crept in.

In 2010, my blog posts got darker. My world was darker. 2011 saw my mom die at 71. Two parents gone before I turned 40. I was uninvited to her funeral. No one talked to me. How on earth does this happen?

I can probably point to a more specific cause, but does it matter? Really, in the grand scheme of things, does it matter why it happened? It happened. This isn't an expose into why men are lame, why we can't cope, or why we fall into a depression.What matters is that it happened.

I know some of the posts were funny. Some were still good. Some were really good. A lot were dark. Maybe the darkness, the sadness, didn't come through. But I can go back and read them, and I see it.

Lately, that has changed. I see not darkness, but light. I look at my wife and don't see the woman who is making it through this crap with me. No, that's not her. I see the girl I married. I see this young, vibrant face. I see a light in her eyes. I see the fun we had, the fun we have, and the fun we will have. I see that beautiful girl who listened to my dumb ideas when we walked on the sand, listened to the waves crash, and whose face shone in the moonlight.

You see, I realized something recently: I can bitch, moan and complain and feel sorry for myself OR I can do something good in the world. This had been making its way into my head for sometime. I felt more positive. I felt better. I felt like I was helping people. Fine, maybe the 86 year old woman kissing me after I settled her case helped.

But there was more to it. I went to Florin High School last week. I spoke to these high school kids. I thought it was going to be lame. It wasn't. (You can read it here: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2013/04/florin-high-school-law-fair.html) I thought it was going to be me talking to no one who cared. It wasn't.

I realized over the last week that life is pretty good. It isn't perfect. It sure as heck isn't what I planned. I didn't plan on being 39 years old with 4 kids who range from 3 to 13. I didn't plan on a severely special needs teenager. But, I sure as heck didn't plan on being Mr. Negativity. I didn't plan on being the guy who was depressed, saw everything in a bad light, who was unhappy.

What does this mean for my blog? I will still rant. I think I can do it and be funny. I am sure of it. I will still mock things that need to be mocked. I will not, however, go back to that dark place. I will make sure it is lighthearted. I will go back, as close as possible, to being the guy who walked on the beach at 16 without a care in the world, seeing the good in everything. Life is simply too short for a guy whose parents died at 62 and 71. Life is too short for a guy who has 4 kids and a wife to protect.

So, there you have. Thank you to you and you and you. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for letting me see me again. Thank you for reminding me that life is too short for me to deal with nonsense, to deal with darkness.

Thank you.