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Imagine What You Will Know Tomorrow

Imagine What You Will Know Tomorrow

by | Oct 2, 2019 | Attitude is Everything

Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew…, Five hundred years ago, everybody knew…, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew…, imagine what you’ll know tomorrow.

~ Kay; MIB 1997

Looking past your past

There are somethings that we experience that we should have the right to forget. Not everything, not the important stuff like Ivy’s Gotcha Day, the day we pulled my soon-to-be-faithful sidekick away from her mother and family and included her in ours.

Maybe it was something we said or did that had ramifications that we were too obtuse to comprehend; harsh words exchanged with someone we love were anything but loving, exposing our true colors. Maybe, it was more permanent, such as a diagnosis, or the unexpected passing of someone close. It may even be a personal or professional failure that resurfaces at the most inopportune times.

My birthday is one day that I now would prefer to forget. It serves as a marker of sorts. It was at my 50th birthday party, a gift from my lovely wife, where it became evident to others, then to her and finally to me, that something was wrong. Doctor’s appointments would soon follow, culminating into a life-changing declaration delivered by a man in a white coat with letters behind his name, “You have Parkinson’s.” It would be a few years of tears and bitterness, anger and heartbreak before we could see how anything good could come from it.

Bueller, Bueller…

Life does move pretty fast. It shouldn’t take a righteous dude crooning atop a float in a St. Patricks Day Parade to show us that something good can and does happen almost every day. If we can’t see it, something is amiss. What, then, is holding our attention, the pressure to do more? It is a dichotomy. By design, we are created to engage the world around us but we are conditioned to believe that we must live to the edge of the page, leaving no white space on our calendars to engage those who pass through our orbit.

Kay meet Jay

Our future longs to escape the shadows of our past, a past that is not easily shaken. It’s our past, including our miss-steps, and our impediments— physical, mental, spacial, chemical or otherwise — that desires to shape our future. It will, but only if we let it. Hidden in our backyards, behind the fences we erect, are remnants, once treasured artifacts and relics of what could have been, that are now reduced to litter. Try as we might to alter our past, we mothball the versions that we think will serve us, shipping them off to the emotional equivalent to Area 51.

Our past doesn’t want to stay in the shadows; it demands credence while we would prefer to see some parts erased. Until a flashy do-hickey that erases memories comes to market, like the one held tightly by Tommy Lee Jones, a.k.a., Kay, we won’t have the luxury of having one in our toolbox. It sure would come in handy if we forget some of our memories, even if it’s just for a short while. Just imagining the possibilities is enough to get a tingle running up my pant leg.

Its all Greek

That leaves me with this question. How do you think about and measure your allotment of time? Is it all quantitative; numbers and factoids. Do you think of it in terms of “Kronos” as a chronological series of events that, when rewound, reads like an actuary’s diary?

Maybe there is another option. Maybe we need to think of the time we are allotted, not as linear but as circular, a plethora of interconnected events and people, as “kairos”. Would it change what rocks we carry in our buckets if you knew with whom we will cross paths and in what way we can engage them in a life-changing, if not a supernatural, way?

Its Your Story

Do you want your story sanitized; reading in such a way that it will make Jack Web envious, chronicling just the facts? If that’s not your style, maybe your story is better suited for a master story-teller such as Bono or Branson, Springsteen or Spielberg.

If you can’t get any of their agents to return your call, I hear there is a guy in Michigan who is pretty good; you just have to get past his dog.

Thanks for reading, liking and sharing,

You will have to forgive Ivy. We lost her for a while after a run-in with a flashy memory-erasing do-hickey thing. She now thinks that she is an influencer.

Al and his faithful, but unpersuasive sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.

It’s just an expression Ivy, pigs don’t fly. Even with your silver tongue, trying to convince the guys at Area 51 that the Wolverines should be ranked in the top 20 is a stretch. They live in the real world.

So, You Think You’re Hot?

So, You Think You’re Hot?

by | Aug 28, 2019 | Attitude is Everything

A Top Ten List

After nearly eight years of Living with Parkinson’s, I’ve come to the realization that my lovely wife looks at me much differently than she did in the past. After some brooding and pouting, it dawned on me that nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot” better than a shiny new hang tag. Surely, there must be more.

  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than getting a shiny new hang-tag to compliment my growing collection of mobility aids. If the tucking my walker behind the closet door and disguising my cane as a bed-side lamp can’t incite her passion, I may have to buy her a Buick.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than getting a front row parking spot at the Casino. After all, nothing says I’m fiscally savvy and make wise investment decisions better than a handful of Players Club cards and a seat at a black jack table; the one where everyone knows my name.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than trying to decide which one of our kids would treasure my used Toro leaving the others to fight over a nearly new set of teeth.
  • Nothing says, “So you think I’m hot…” better than helping my faithful sidekick shop for a Life Alert necklace. As it turns out, even she thinks I’m about to fall and can’t get up.
  • Nothing says, “So you think I’m hot…” better than allowing the county Rescue and Recovery Dive team to use our hot tub for practice drills leaving me to enjoy the solitude of Ivy’s kiddie pool and the neighbors swimmies.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than watching a toddler on his tricycle taking a victory lap after leaving me in a pile-up in the infield.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than getting my walker fitted with an aftermarket audio system complete with navigation and a holster to carry a side arm. Just because its vanity plate reads MY HELLCAT and the only CD I could find is Sammy Hagar’s hit “I can’t drive 55” doesn’t mean it is or I should.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than dropping a crispy $20.00 bill on the counter of the nearby Stuff-Mart and leaving with a silk shirt and as much bling that a canvas shopping bag can hold. I do have an image to maintain.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than attributing to my Sidekick any and all rogue gastric emissions.
  • Nothing says, “So, you think I’m hot…” better than getting to hold my lovely wife close, knowing she wants to share her life with me, and hear her tell me that she loves me.

Thank you Lisa, for always being at my side and believing in me. The best is yet to come.

Thanks for reading, liking and sharing,

Why do you ask, Ivy? Lisa and I have been together about 600,000 kilometers.

Al and his faithful, but flatulent sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.

I didn’t mean to confuse you, Ivy. Time isn’t all that interesting to me. Lisa and I are committed to going the distance.

This one is pretty good, Ivy; we should find an agent.

Through Ivy’s Eyes

Through Ivy’s Eyes

by | Aug 9, 2019 | Through Ivy's Eyes

It’s a tall order to be his go-to-guy, to answer all his silly questions and to keep him from hurting himself. I don’t think that my job is in jeopardy or my favorite spot on the couch is going up for auction. I hope he knows that I do more than that day-dreaming beagle who sleeps all day on top of a little house in his back yard. Anyone can pretend to fly a dog house and fight off an imaginary villain. How hard can it be when your arch-enemy is named after a grocery store pizza?

I like my nickname, the Wonder Pup, it makes me feel fearless and that nothing can stop me — that he and I, together, can make a difference. Even thought my feelings changed when I found out that…our villains are real, I have a great life. I found my purpose. My job is the care for him. It’s not all work. For fun, I like to hide his keys and wallet; it’s one way that I keep him close. I miss the of side of him that pokes fun of other people’s sacred cows. Sure, he seems more mellow, more reflective, and is even nicer than he used to be, but someone has to antagonize the drunken Sparty’s and the inflatable woodchuck that live down the street. I hope he isn’t turning into a cat person.

I like it when he scratches behind my ear’s and plays with me on the floor in the morning. Every now and then, I nudge him after he falls asleep just so he knows I’m still looking out for him. He gives me a lot to worry about, particularly when he starts his sentence with, “Don’t freak out…This may be the start of a minor medical emergency”. That’s my cue to stay calm, even thought things are about to get colorful.

He isn’t as worried about getting stranded anymore or that he might need help getting home from a walk; I just reassure him that if anything does happen, I will use my leash to tie up to a mailbox or a light pole where he will be safe. I promised him that I will always come back with help — or an ice cream truck. Goldens are like that.

I think that I’m a pretty good sidekick. After all, I don’t remember the last time I had to pull him out of the bar or an all-you-can-eat buffet. I know what he expects of me — my job is to make him look good. I have to be on my toes, and to stay sharp; I need to be prepared for any question he throws my way. You would think that I was studying to get on Jeopardy. The questions about politics are easy, but I would like to know where a talk radio guy earned so much about movies and music. I have to admit, he stumped me with the yellow-haired kid and the Raven. Maybe someone out there can tell me who is Paul anyway, and how did he die? Oh, and what is a Walrus?

I am going to try to get him to take me on a walk later tonight. The guy who drives the ice cream truck gave me his sound track that plays when he makes his rounds. I have it cued up on my iPhone. I’ll wait until I see him get off the couch and check the freezer for ice. He falls for it every time. Who can resist a Klondike bar delivered to you at the end of your driveway? Here comes the truck.

Thanks for reading, and helping me prep for the Daily Double.

—<<O>>—-

I wonder if this will get him off his game.

“Hey Daddio, I bet you can’t guess what kind of tree we have behind our pool in the back yard.”

“What is a Black Walrus tree?… I’ll take Arctic Flippered Mammals for $400, Ivy.”

A friend to many, but a sidekick to one, Ivy the Wonder Pup.

Wow, he’s good!

Lollipop Wrappers and Dead Unicorns – Its Our Story

Lollipop Wrappers and Dead Unicorns – Its Our Story

by | Jul 8, 2019 | Attitude is Everything

Who knew that the road to Utopia is littered with lollipop wrappers and dead unicorns. This is one of the times that only the coarsest imagery can convey the reality of living a paradox; that freedom can best be found when we let go of our lost treasure, when we suspend our failed efforts to obtain what we once pursued, and we boldly embrace the unknown and unimaginable.

Owning our Story

Those of us in the club at some point, had to decide if, when, and to whom, we tell our secret. Some of us were able to control the timing, however, for many others, that decision was made for them. Maybe it was a tremor or fall that caught the attention of someone outside of their inner circle, and now feel compelled to explain to those outside of the walls they have built for their protection.

My family and I have differing perspectives when it comes to the intrinsic value of all-things Zuckerberg. I tend to think of it more in terms of the way the Wonder Pup understands television — why bother; it’s not real. Do I really need to know what the friend of a third-cousin ordered at Steak-n-Shake last night? A steady diet of such revelations might leave me to believe that everyone is vacationing in exotic locales, eating at the finest restaurants or attending band camp. Why should I let the thought police and algorithms deployed by Zuckerberg decide who are my friends and what content they see?

Nonetheless, our story is told whether we tell it or we allow others to advance their rendition. Who better than you can tell your story?

Protecting Our Story

Sharing our story is not for the thin-skinned or weak-kneed. It will come with risks, and we will pay the price. It wasn’t all that long ago that someone took it upon themselves to share something I had told them in strict confidence. Then in a feeble attempt to stroke her ego, she fabricated a version that was slanderous, demeaning, and just plain wrong. Imagine my surprise that I learned while sitting in a meeting that I was suffering from a condition that I was not. Fortunately, I have access to those in the medical community whom I trust that took issue with this faux practitioner’s assessment and reassured me that was not the case. What was one person’s attempt to denigrate and malign now offers me an opportunity that is making my financial advisor salivate.

We can’t sit idly by, while those who do not have our best interest in mind, spread rumors and innuendo. It is our legacy that is on the line. To adopt a line from my alma mater, “What will you fight for?” If not you, then who.

Living our Story

Whether we choose to make our story public or we strive to keep it private, ultimately we will live out our story every day where others live out theirs. Our worlds are destined to collide, and our stories will become intertwined in ways that would make George Costanza cringe. We can’t become a person that we are not while we are waiting in an elevator, sitting in an interview, or having coffee with a friend. It takes more to become an Architect than just saying that we are one.

Our story will take on a life of its own. Those with whom we interact will retell the snippets that they find interesting, entertaining or salacious and not necessarily the ones we prefer to be shared. Nonetheless, by living and doing life with those we admire, we trust and will hold us accountable, our story over time will come to life and our true selves will be on display for the world to see. Together, we will celebrate our victories, and we will extend grace and be granted forgiveness when we stumble and fall.

So what do you want to do with your story? To leverage the tag-line from a once-mighty but now confused and soul-less shoe company, Just live it!

Thanks for reading, liking; sharing is encouraged.

Ivy, those aren’t dog treats in the closet — that’s where I keep my skeletons. I want them nearby in case I go into business making athletic shoes.

Al and his faithful, but consumer-savvy sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.

I don’t know if Nike makes shoes for dogs, Ivy. Apparently, that will depend on Kaepernick. He seems more like a chameleon than a dog person.

I’m Here!

I’m Here!

by | May 12, 2019 | Parkinson's Sucks

I’m here!

~God

“I’m here. You asked me where have I been. I’m here. I have been waiting, right here where you left me —on a shelf next to your other dusty books. Maybe I should be asking you the same question. Where have you been?

I will get to your questions in due time. First I have a few questions for you. Why did you think that I left you? You seemed to have a handle on things. I set you up with a job, with a view of the lake of all things. Wasn’t the snow beautiful? I kept your car from breaking down even when you were three quarts low and 12,000 miles past your scheduled oil change. I’m not ready to dispatch an Arch-angel every time you pass by a Quick-lube. Somethings have to be on you.

There are a lot of moving parts to this universe and if you were paying attention in your formative years, during the 4th & 7th grades and a good share of the time you spent in high-school, you would know that the sun and the morning stars do not orbit you. You are here at this point in time, for a reason that someday you will understand. Trust me, you are on the path that I put you on. You do still trust me, don’t you? Hold that though.

You have been rather snarky lately and that has to stop. Your family needs you — Lisa needs her husband and the kids still need their father. Get back in the game. I will never ask you to carry a burden that is too heavy for you to carry. This is the point that you are still missing, You are trying to carry it alone. I brought people into your life that want to help. You need to let them. They are my hands and feet to you and your family.

You still aren’t listening, are you? I will get to your questions when you are ready to listen. That never has been your strong suit. I can see that you are moving a little slower than you have in the past, but what are you doing about it? You have two spin bikes in your office and a road bike hanging from the ceiling in your garage. Last I saw you were using the bikes as a shoe rack. Your son can help you get your bike down if you need a hand. It’s on a pulley with a nylon rope. Your gloves are in your helmet. You won’t even get a blister.

I know you’re worried about what the future holds for you and I know that your lovely wife is scared. Maybe you better spend a little less time in the Stuff-Marts and a little more time holding her. You can get by without another… you can fill in the blank. I’m not about to tell you how to live your life. I think you can figure it out. I expect the same from all high functioning adults.

What are you doing up, anyway? You couldn’t sleep? You had questions for me? Now there is a surprise! Did you visit my FAQ pages. The book of Daniel, or Job, would be a good place to start.

That’s what is keeping you awake? That was your question? When will your Voice return? When you learn to listen and have something interesting to say. Now get some sleep.

That went well. Don’t you think, Ivy?…Ivy?

Ivy, get out of my bed. Okay, you can stay, but you will have to sleep on Lisa’s side.

Al and his faithful, but uninvited sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.

Thanks for the reminder, pup. The Voice has been on for twenty seasons, It just seems like it’s an eternity.

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