by Al Van Dyk | Jun 30, 2020 | Attitude is Everything
” I understand that you have a problem.
The Caretaker
I do, do I? And what exactly is my problem, I thought. Couldn’t he see the elephant— it was right there in front of him — standing between him and I. Briefly, I stopped what I was doing, vacuuming my pool on a scorching summer day, to see who made such an unexpected statement.
A gift
It was an older gentleman, older than I, employed by a neighboring condominium community to tend to their property. I could see he was sincere, and he meant well but maybe was unsure how to bridge the subject. “I have a secret,” I thought. “Is that the problem that you are referring to?”
He didn’t really need me to tell him about my problem, or my secret. In his own way, he was telling me that he knew. I could have blurted out an answer to make him go away, after all, I had matters under control. Had I not entertained his statement, I would have missed out on the why behind his desire too freely give. He wanted to be a blessing to honor someone close to him for reasons he would soon share. If I had responded with anything but sincere gratitude, I would have missed the rest of the story.
Freely Given
At times, it feels like there are invisible hands that find me, that help with me with tasks that are more difficult for me than they once were. Other times, it’s as if those hands are there just to cheer me on. I don’t always know where they come from or how they learned of my need; after all, I too am good at keeping secrets. Maybe not knowing all the details is the very thing that makes them so special and so cherished.
But hands don’t get places on their own, they need feet to take them where they need to be. In those instances where the hands are unseen, footsteps can be heard. Maybe it’s the sound of a power tool emanating from my garage that draws out the Tim Taylor in many of us. What prompts so many to selflessly give to one so undeserving?
The Caretaker wanted to honor someone on the maintenance crew, who also had Parkinson’s. His friend lost his battle. As we spoke, he shared more about his co-worker. The longer we talked, the more connections we discovered. As it turned out, when I was in early elementary, we lived on the same street. I had gone to grade school and probably played kickball, tag, or hide and seek with his son. We attended the same church. That brief afternoon, my world and his were connected, and simultaneously both grew bigger and seemed smaller.
Undeserving
I will be the first to admit that, in the past, I have not always been a compassionate spouse or an engaged father; and as far as the rest, I will only plead the Fifth. But now I am the recipient of random acts of kindness that few have the privilege to experience. Since there is no place in my world-view for karma, I cannot expect reciprocity should I choose to pay it forward. That leaves me to conclude that it is grace that I am experiencing — grace in action.
Blessing
The days that I could climb on a roof to help a neighbor repair a leak are in my review mirror, as are most things that require an appliance dolly or random explosive devices. However, that only includes a few activities, and it does not give me a pass to be a blessing to others.
I am told by a person from my past that I have a story that others might want to hear, even find it uplifting, and dare I say be a blessing. Heady stuff from someone I shared a locker with all through high school, isn’t it? Now it’s time to use the gift that I have been given to bless others. I am out of excuses; the virus, the rioting, the political unrest. I could go on, but I think you get the point. There are risks to everything. There are ample excuses not to do what I should do out of fear that my secrets will be told.
Time is Now
About a year ago, a mentor baited me with this question and taunted me to act on it. “What are you running from?” He continued, “The story of your life is not a secret to hold but a story to be told.” His words, not mine. I tried to replace your, a singular pronoun with our a plural, but he would not authorize it.
I’m still not sure that the world is ready for my story, from someone who struggled to get a “D+” in Art and Physical Education and would eventually graduate with a Master’s degree with high honors from one of the most prestigious universities in the country. My eclectic experiences ranged from a career that included self-employment, a stint at a big–4 accounting firm, from highway construction to three distinctly different not-for-profits.
Who could have imagined that someone self-protective and introverted would be invited to share his story in 40 plus cities spanning coast to coast? Who would have thought that one could do so little with so much, or so much with so little?
Get ready. It has all the makings to be a white knuckle ride.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing.
Ivy wants to come along. Three months of self-quarantine didn’t serve her well; probably too many trips to the refrigerator.
Al and his faithful, but socialite sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
I think we can convert social distancing to something that a dog can relate to. How about an orbit that is 3-pi? I know how much you love pie.
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by Al Van Dyk | Jun 4, 2020 | Attitude is Everything
All Skate
A nameless roller-rink D.J.
“Are you ready? Are you ready to seize the day?” Or will you let an opportunity pass you by as if it were that popular girl whose attention you were trying to get at a middle school skating party? Sure there was the risk that your wheels might get caught sending one of you to the E.R. with a broken arm, but wasn’t that was a risk that every kid is willing to take?
Are you ready to fail? These are words that are sure to open a wound or two, especially for those of us who have long forgotten the details of our formative years. I vaguely remember keeping those memories locked up in my gym bag, and throwing it in the dumpster at the close of the school year. Still, I must admit there were ample learning opportunities that I might have missed, even some defining moments.
Now?
A life-altering event is rarely announced. It will just occur. The opportunist will recognize it as such; the rest will see it as an intrusion, or even a distraction, from their routine and pray that it will go away. Now back to the question, “Are you ready to seize the day?”
It’s the fear of failure that separates the dreamers from the doers, the starters from the finishers, and dare I add, the skaters from the bench-sitters. It comes down to our willingness, or ability, to accurately assess risk if we want to learn to overcome fear. Analysis paralysis occurs when we analyze the crap out of what we wish to achieve, snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory. It’s that little voice inside of us that plays like an 8-track of Stevie Nix telling us lies, sweet little lies that only the worst outcome is possible and that any failure is terminal.
the odds are…
It takes more than a healthy level of self-esteem to think of ourselves as victors and conquerors. It takes a willingness to try, even faced with insurmountable odds, even if it means we will experience failure. Someone much wiser than I once said, “Failure isn’t defined by how far we fall, but by how high we bounce.” His words are inspiring, even if his name escapes me.
But learning is predicated on our willingness to fail just as experimentation is the foundation of personal growth. The future belongs to the curious and the inquisitive, the resourceful, and the resolute. For those whose comfort zone is defined by the number of boxes that they must check before they call it a day, I caution you, “Don’t try this at home.” Failure is a necessary and integral part of what it takes to become the person we are destined to be. Failure isn’t a destination, it need not be more than a push-pin on a map; a highway rest-stop that we may need to visit to check our bearings and relieve ourselves of that truck-stop mega-burrito that is causing so much discomfort.
Gaps Happen
If you are following my story, you may notice that there are gaps and deviations from the usual subject matter. For the record, I am managing my disease rather well, but living with it can make for a boring read. When compared to the pandemic, there are no daily White House briefings that report the number of new cases, no antagonists posing as journalists, or no newly minted bobble-heads strategically placed on a podium. Each day I do what I must to live with it. Tomorrow, I will adapt and adjust if needed, rinse, and repeat.
Any deviation stems from my desire to stay sharp, flexing my creative muscles, to remind me that I still can. For kicks, I drifted into a political sandbox and tried to apply real-world logic and thoughtful analysis to the abstract; edicts handed down by our current Governor, but that proved to be low-hanging fruit. After all, how many synonyms are there for power-drunk partisan hack.
I even considered documenting the impact of the virus on the nation’s gross domestic product (GDP) predicting how many decades it will take to flatten the curve and absorbing nearly 40 million non-essential workers. Unfortunately, that was far too depressing. If I am going to take a reader to the edge of a cliff, I don’t think that it should be a real one overlooking the abyss.
As of now, I am looking for something new, something to keep my fingers nimble and my mind sharp. If I fail at this new endeavor, I will learn from it, blaze a trail through the morass and emerge even stronger. World domination, hypothetically speaking, is still in my sights, unfortunately dominating something as simple as a slight radius in my driveway is proving to test my geographical footprint.
What opportunities are you missing, or are you not seeing, if any. If there is an upside to a global pandemic, I suspect that these days, weeks, months, or years, will be remembered as the “Great Equalizer” when the mighty fall and the upstarts, the nimble, the curious and the inquisitive rule the day.
So what are you waiting for? The music is still playing. Maybe she is still out there, skating or even waiting?
Carpe Diem ~ All Skate.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing.
Ivy is sitting on the bench trying to figure our which skates go on the front feet and which go on the back.
Al and his faithful, but overly analytical sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
It’s too late now, pup. The bus is here to take you back to school. That’s what happens when you spend all night in the snack bar. You miss a lot.
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by Al Van Dyk | Jan 22, 2020 | Attitude is Everything
Oop’s, I did it again!
B. Spears, Influencer
I can think of worse places to be stranded; this big box home improvement retailer that does everything that one needs to feel at home, everything but a monitored in-store security system. It wasn’t my first rodeo, to be stranded, that is. I should have prepped the Wonder Pup on what to do in the unlikely event that our version of Gotham city’s Bat Light appears in an afternoon sky. I expected her to come to my rescue. She is my sidekick, after all.
Not Again
It’s become a cultural norm to romanticize irresponsibility. Some would argue if it weren’t for acts of self-indulgence, and a blatant disregard for the effects of pharmaceutical-grade chemical compounds, that the song-writing machines of many a pop-music superstar would come to a screeching halt. It’s these faux pa’s, the Oop’s moments that we encounter, or more likely, create that will be retold, providing the lyrics to an otherwise mundane story. Still, thoughtless actions have ramifications, and some would willingly trade notoriety and Snapchat stardom for credibility and modesty. If you are unsure where you land on this continuum but you feel the need to put on retainer a publicist and an SUV full of lawyers, then maybe your story has all the makings of a pop music artist.
Does this come in Cordless?
Getting stranded in your local Stuff Mart isn’t the kind of thing that will get the face of an average Joe plastered on the National Enquirer adorning the magazine rack at every checkout at every grocery store. Still, it certainly will rattle a teenager who has yet to experience first hand the debilitating effects of his father’s disease.
It was my fault. I have at my disposal an assortment of those pharmaceutical-grade chemical compounds, but none of them with me at the time. Call it negligence, denial, or just another ordinary day with far too much to do. It could have ended much worse. One could only imagine the carnage if I were stuck in the tool aisle between the shiny yellow and the shiny red things having to fight my way out using nothing more than sheer will power and a Capital One card.
Born Free
I have had to learn, and apparently, more class time awaits, what it means to live within the guidelines, or boundaries, make that the shackles that dictate my everyday events. Over the years I have grown accustomed to an impromptu trip to the local Stuff Mart to purchase that one thing I need that really don’t, or move a heavy object that is screaming out my son’s name. Now it takes a village. Maybe a village is an overstatement, but at the very least a checklist tattooed on my forearm delineating all the things I should take with me will suffice if I want my lovely wife to rest easy.
In all honesty, I am not the best at sharing with my lovely wife every obstacle that I encounter telling myself it’s for her protection. If she knew of all of the times that my disease got in the way or made my day challenging, or more colorful, I’m confident I would be confined to a box of bubble wrap and an adult diaper.
Until that glorious day comes, or rather if it comes, getting stranded occasionally will continue to be a risk I am willing to take and through those rare instances. I will get to experience the goodness and compassion of complete strangers, just like I have so many times in the past few years.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Are you sure, Ivy? You can’t see a Bat Light during the day?
Al and his faithful, but technology-dependent sidekick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
Sure, I can send you a text. I know, you like messages that are all emojis.
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by Al Van Dyk | Dec 9, 2019 | Attitude is Everything
“Whatever gets you through the night…is all right!
J. Lennon
One person’s restful night is another’s addictive vice, just as one person’s slippery slope is another’s slip-and-slide. A gateway to addictions, a stepping stone to ruin and destitution, is now available to all with limited interference. How ironic that it took the allure of an untapped tax base to generate an outpouring of compassion to those seeking relief. There has to be a more humane way to keep the recreational users and addicts, marginalized and ostracized, trapped on the lowest rungs of the socioeconomic ladder than to promote and tax the very thing that holds them there.
I never think to ask the convenience store clerk for medical advice. When it’s time to replenish my hidden stash of Twizzler’s and Peach Snapple, this question never comes up, “Which CBD product do you recommend for my insomnia?… Great, I’ll take your value pack and another $50 in Powerball tickets.” Maybe it’s because I don’t like the way it rolls off the tongue. To be fair, the phone number for my neurologist wouldn’t be the first I would look for if I were in dire need of an infusion of Twix bars to get me through the night.
What’s in your wallet? Is there an MMJ license hiding behind your Sam’s Club Membership card? With such a large number of people choosing to get stoned as a way to manage a debilitating condition, odds are I might know someone who does. Having never walked in their flip flops, maybe there’s a question they have answered that I should ask myself. “Is this something for me?”
There must be some logic that I’m missing, that taking something that is known to destroy brain cells to relieve my discomfort that is caused by a disease that is killing off brain cells will somehow benefit me. I can assure you that it isn’t my intent to belittle or malign someone else’s ailments. Who am I to judge, and who appointed me arbiter?
Terminal diseases, end of life, or palliative care, I get it. If it’s legal, why not? If it’s not, why isn’t it? Athlete’s foot, pattern baldness, or feelings of sadness after a bad hair cut; for me, that’s where the logic breaks down a little. None-the-less it is an option and a viable one. Whether it’s for relief from chronic pain or a chance to relive parts of the ’80s and 90’s that are fuzzy, it’s a hair that each individual must split.
Following in the footsteps of Cheech & Chong is not just icing on the cake, it can be the whole pan of brownies. Beware, we are now leaving the kiddie pool and venturing into deep waters. Many that started down the slippery slope are no longer with us, having turned to more powerful cocktails when the brownies could no longer satisfy their needs or reduce their suffering.
If you don’t think that it can happen to you, guess again. If you do find yourself stuck on one of those lower rungs, don’t expect anyone running for office to help you up or give you a hand. That swim lane is crowded now that Bloomberg is all in. Besides, most are in fly-over country, pandering to an unfamiliar crowd, while the wanna-be is touting their accomplishents, measuring Big Gulps and taking down names; presumably, names written on big checks.
So what’s hanging in your garage?
Thanks for reading, licking, and sharing. That would be liking.
Good point Ivy, a slippery slope can be just a sheet of plastic, a garden hose, and a few sprinkler heads away from becoming a fantastic slip and slide.
Al and his faithful, but chocoholic side-kick, Ivy the Wonder Pup.
Of course, we can ask the boy to translate this into emoji. A reader is a reader, sort of.
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by Al Van Dyk | 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.
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by Al Van Dyk | 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.
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