Happy Holidays... whatever you observe.

The Why Files may not be your thing. I totally get that. But I do want to share this Christmas message from AJ (btw... is Hecklefish on holiday already?) because I think it's important. It's been a pretty shitty year for me; but I'll likely dive into that later.

Don't forget the people in your life you take for granted. I know I can't shower people with cash these days, but a thoughtful card that was unexpected goes a long way. If you feel comfortable, let them know why you can't contribute financially, but that you still value and cherish their place in your life. In a lot of cases, I think this may mean more than a few dollars stuffed into an envelope.

Against All Odds... 30 years later

If you're new here, or if you don't remember 30 years ago, this song was burned into my soul for the rest of my existence. To this day... I can't hear it without devolving into a blubbering mass of tears. It is engrained into who I am. It sent me down a path, one that defined who I would become.

And if you don't know (or remember) why I carry this, you can refresh your memory here: The Last Valentine. Thirty years later, the scar hasn't healed. It changed everything, including today. I never really tried after that night. I was permanently broken. The "only one who really knew me at all" decided to "walk away" and all I could do was "watch you leave without a trace." 

There was no one after "K." There couldn't be. There wouldn't be. A young man (20 something) in the prime of his life, stumbles across the woman he believes deep in his soul he would spend the rest of his life with. They would share the joy of forming a family they could call their own. The house, the white picket fence, the 2.3 children, and the big back yard for the dogs to play.

All blown apart by a nuclear bomb that would spread its toxic effects for decades. Thirty years later these lyrics still ring true. "Take a look at me now, there's just an empty space." It stayed empty; so damaged it could never be salvaged.

Not Good Enough

I have never been good enough. It's not a hard concept to understand, but it is a difficult reality to accept.

In my younger years, I devoted a great deal of my time and effort into my career. With a Bachelor's Degree in Sports Administration, I set out on my course for a career. I eventually landed with an entry level position with a minor league hockey team in a newly formed league. My "title" was Director of Operations. That meant, since I wasn't coaching, sharpening skates, or filling water bottles, I was in charge of it. Paying bills, team payroll, player housing, team transportation, team doctors and medical, merchandise ordering and sales, media relations, ticketing and invoicing, etc. Way before personal cellphone technology was developed, that also put me in me charge of redirecting calls from my bosses "sister" to him (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more). I was young, looking to prove my skills, and working towards advancing my career. I was taught in college... get your foot in the door, work hard, learn as much as you can in all facets of the business, and you'll succeed.

How did that all work out you may ask. My in game public address announcer, who was a local radio news anchor, got hired to be the PA announcer for the local NHL franchise. The radio voice of the team got hired by the same NHL franchise and eventually became a Vice President in Major League Baseball. The beat writer from the local newspaper that followed our team was assigned to the local NHL team and eventually moved along to greater things. A sports reporter for the local CBS affiliate covered the team on selected weekends until elevating themselves to ESPN and worldwide recognition. In short, everyone not directly associated with me that I helped do there jobs got recognized and rewarded. I got no recognition. No accolades. Not even a simple thank you. I wasn't good enough.

My fate was sending out hundreds of resumes and hundreds of cover letters with no positive results. I kept a fledgling hockey team in a fledgling minor hockey league alive for three years. Back in the 1990's I worked for $1,000 a month with no benefits. I lived at home on the couch (thanks Momness). I was asked a few times if I could "wait on my check until next week" to make sure the players got paid and didn't strike. I chased the illusion, taught to me in life and reinforced in college, that if I worked hard enough I would eventually be recognized and rewarded. But I wasn't good enough.

I now realize that I had reached my peak in life in May 1989. I graduated from college with my future and the whole world ahead of me. I was in the best physical shape I had ever been. Then the whole world looked and said you're not good enough. I've been told this in some way, shape, or form the next 36 years including today. I truly am worthless.

Transfer

Why am I still here? I saw a video the other day with a key message; and it struck home like a bolt of lightning. This one sentence... "Suicide doesn’t end the pain, it only transfers it onto others" opened up a new perspective to end of life decisions.

To stay true to myself, I need to stay true to my being. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt to my family or perceived friends. My nature would never allow me to transfer my desperation and grief onto others and cause them suffering. I won't saddle them with that sorrow and burden. They deserve to live the best lives they can achieve. They deserve to flourish without the underlying question of "what could I have done?" 

I've spent my life in service of others. Professionally, I brought countless people joy and entertainment. I feel like I did something to enrich their lives... if only for a few hours. Personally, I have always strived to leave others in a better place. In most instances, I think I've chosen the right path to follow. A well intentioned "thanks, I appreciate you," a thoughtful "gee, I like your hair," or a well placed smile for a cashier I could tell was having a bad day were small gestures I hoped would make a big impact. 

Robin Williams was one of the kindest, funniest people of my generation. I think I've taken this quote to heart and try to live it. He gave his heart and soul to keep anyone from feeling the way he did. Ultimately he had nothing left to give and his strength was gone. My suffering is mine and I own it. Like Robin, I give all I can to keep anyone from feeling the way I do. I hope I don't choose to transfer that onto others, but sometimes you have nothing left to give.

Thankstaking

Here in the good old USA, Thursday is an annual celebration of "Thanksgiving Day." We're supposed to take a moment to sit back, reflect on what we have, and settle down with our family in a meal to celebrate the bountiful grace of our god and our freedom.

Today, I (and many others) neither have a bountiful grace or freedom. Nameless, faceless, and seemingly lawless gestapo roam the streets of the country. They round up non-white people and make them "disappear." The government, designed nearly 250 years ago, was intended to afford "We the people" the equal chance at "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" for all. This country and its current leadership actively works against those founding morals. I'm a white male. I'm relatively safe. The fact that anyone not like me is under attack is disgusting. Take away health care from the most vulnerable. Take away food benefits from children, veterans and most needy. Take away the right to love who you want. Take away the right to live the way you identify. Imprison those protecting the rights written 250 years ago.

Personally, I see my future destroyed in front of me. My mother's life care is bankrupting me. I'll end up living in my car under a bridge in a few years. Social Security and Medicare will either be gone or outsourced to private companies more focused on profits than people. There really is no hope for me to live dignified final years. Getting a start on the inevitable isn't out of the question. If it's going to be torture, might as well make it short instead of prolonged.

So Happy Thankstaking! Take my freedom. Take my dignity. Take my stability. Take my "pursuit of happiness." Take my limited future. And when you're done bending me over the dining room table without lube, leave the door unlocked so those desperate to survive and with a reason to live can take what is left.