If I've learned anything by going to school this past year or so, it's that I've still got a lot to learn.
January 23 is my angel's birthday.
I love her so much. Every thought of her warms me.
I have lived most of my life without her, but I cannot imagine being without her for even a single day.
I've never had someone love me like she does,
And that is pretty special.
I don't do all the right things, say all the right things, and still need to get over selfish tendencies,
But she still adores me.
And I do her.
I've got a lot to learn in life.
But one thing I know is that my wife is more special than words can say.
And I spend most of my time trying to make sure she's happy.
She's an angel, and proves it daily -
Who in their right mind wants an unhappy angel??
Sheryl, I wish you the happiest of birthdays.
I hope we live another 45 years in the bliss that we share.
Your smile makes me melt. It makes me know that all is right in the world.
The twinkle in your eyes fills my soul with that much more hope.
I love you so much, that the word hasn't even been invented that expresses what you mean to me.
I love our story, I love the trip that we're on, and I love that we're sharing it together.
Happy birthday, sweetheart.
I love you.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The Spirit Before Christmas
So last night, Sheryl and I drove out to a bar called "Wildwood" at 21 Mile and Hayes - a 45 minute drive for us - to see Coldwater - a band that one of Sheryl's former patients plays in.
I had worked all day, and once I got home, we worked on Christmas stuff for hours. I was tired, and would have been more than happy to pack it in for the night, but the Fates didn't allow that.
When we got to the bar, we could hear the band from outside. I don't like to be overwhelmed by the music (that I don't choose! :)), so my mood was a little spoiled.
When we got in, Sheryl and I sat at the bar. We ordered drinks, and started a tab. We played Keno for most of the night, and perhaps ended up losing $5. Worthwhile for an evening of playing, I think.
During the band break - once we were able to hear each other - the bartender introduced himself from the other side of the bar. "Bob" was his name.
So Bob was a little older than us, and he sure seemed like he was having fun. He was experimenting with drink concoctions - a red "SweetTart" drink and a green "SweetTart" drink. Hmmmm... Christmas colors.
Well part of Bob's experiment was to include those of us at the bar in the taste test. We drank the shots and provided our input (the green one was really good - the red one... not so much). We got a little of Bob's story, too.
Bob had been a project engineer, and a few years ago, he was "downsized". So on a whim, he decided to go to bartender school. One night, he wandered into the Wildwood, and he struck up a conversation with the owner. He told the owner that he had just finished bartender school, and if the owner ever needed any help, give him a call. A couple weeks later, the owner called him and asked him to work.
Bob loved bartending. He worked hard to help the bar succeed. But after a while, he decided to get a "big boy's job", and he went back to work as a project engineer.
So all was well and good, and the owner of the Wildwood called Bob again. He needed Bob to work part-time if he could swing it. So Bob took on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.
Well, I told Bob that I will be taking the PMP exam (Project Management Professional) in March, and asked where he had worked.
"Oh," he said, "just some machine tool companies. Blah, blah, Cross, Lamb..."
Huh?? Cross and Lamb??
"Hey," I said, "my Dad worked at both Cross and Lamb!"
"Really? What's his name?"
"Well, he died in '91..."
"What was his name?"
"Jim Cummings."
"Yeah! Jim was a good friend of mine! I knew him well. He was in a car accident the day before he died."
"Ummm, yeah," I said, chills spreading over my body. "I was 25 when he died."
"I was at his funeral. Great guy."
"Wow."
"Yeah. You know, my son's name was Matt."
Chills again.
"He passed away when he was 25."
!!!
"I'm going to make us a special shot in a couple of minutes," he said. "We'll have a toast."
"Absolutely, Bob," I said.
Coldwater started rocking the house again. I think some glasses were rattling.
Bob made us a shot, and we toasted Jim and Matt.
The set was short since the bar stopped serving at midnight. After we could hear again, Bob said, "I've been dreaming a lot about Matt lately. His birthday is next month."
My dad's was this month.
We all agreed that we had been meant to be there, and I distinctly felt that Bob and I were both moved by the spirits.
Christmas spirits, perhaps?
When we left, Bob came from behind the bar. He hugged Sheryl, and hugged me. It was a strong hug. I told him, "Everything is the way it's supposed to be. Everything happens for a reason."
We parted ways, and my mind was completely blown. It's still blown.
Did we have a visit last night from the ghosts of Christmas past? Or simply the spirit of Christmas shouting above the music:
Merry Christmas to all... and to all a good night?
So last night, Sheryl and I drove out to a bar called "Wildwood" at 21 Mile and Hayes - a 45 minute drive for us - to see Coldwater - a band that one of Sheryl's former patients plays in.
I had worked all day, and once I got home, we worked on Christmas stuff for hours. I was tired, and would have been more than happy to pack it in for the night, but the Fates didn't allow that.
When we got to the bar, we could hear the band from outside. I don't like to be overwhelmed by the music (that I don't choose! :)), so my mood was a little spoiled.
When we got in, Sheryl and I sat at the bar. We ordered drinks, and started a tab. We played Keno for most of the night, and perhaps ended up losing $5. Worthwhile for an evening of playing, I think.
During the band break - once we were able to hear each other - the bartender introduced himself from the other side of the bar. "Bob" was his name.
So Bob was a little older than us, and he sure seemed like he was having fun. He was experimenting with drink concoctions - a red "SweetTart" drink and a green "SweetTart" drink. Hmmmm... Christmas colors.
Well part of Bob's experiment was to include those of us at the bar in the taste test. We drank the shots and provided our input (the green one was really good - the red one... not so much). We got a little of Bob's story, too.
Bob had been a project engineer, and a few years ago, he was "downsized". So on a whim, he decided to go to bartender school. One night, he wandered into the Wildwood, and he struck up a conversation with the owner. He told the owner that he had just finished bartender school, and if the owner ever needed any help, give him a call. A couple weeks later, the owner called him and asked him to work.
Bob loved bartending. He worked hard to help the bar succeed. But after a while, he decided to get a "big boy's job", and he went back to work as a project engineer.
So all was well and good, and the owner of the Wildwood called Bob again. He needed Bob to work part-time if he could swing it. So Bob took on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.
Well, I told Bob that I will be taking the PMP exam (Project Management Professional) in March, and asked where he had worked.
"Oh," he said, "just some machine tool companies. Blah, blah, Cross, Lamb..."
Huh?? Cross and Lamb??
"Hey," I said, "my Dad worked at both Cross and Lamb!"
"Really? What's his name?"
"Well, he died in '91..."
"What was his name?"
"Jim Cummings."
"Yeah! Jim was a good friend of mine! I knew him well. He was in a car accident the day before he died."
"Ummm, yeah," I said, chills spreading over my body. "I was 25 when he died."
"I was at his funeral. Great guy."
"Wow."
"Yeah. You know, my son's name was Matt."
Chills again.
"He passed away when he was 25."
!!!
"I'm going to make us a special shot in a couple of minutes," he said. "We'll have a toast."
"Absolutely, Bob," I said.
Coldwater started rocking the house again. I think some glasses were rattling.
Bob made us a shot, and we toasted Jim and Matt.
The set was short since the bar stopped serving at midnight. After we could hear again, Bob said, "I've been dreaming a lot about Matt lately. His birthday is next month."
My dad's was this month.
We all agreed that we had been meant to be there, and I distinctly felt that Bob and I were both moved by the spirits.
Christmas spirits, perhaps?
When we left, Bob came from behind the bar. He hugged Sheryl, and hugged me. It was a strong hug. I told him, "Everything is the way it's supposed to be. Everything happens for a reason."
We parted ways, and my mind was completely blown. It's still blown.
Did we have a visit last night from the ghosts of Christmas past? Or simply the spirit of Christmas shouting above the music:
Merry Christmas to all... and to all a good night?
Friday, November 25, 2011
Of Thanks and Thunder
On Thanksgiving Eve, 1982, I was working hard at Olga's Kitchen at Lakeside Mall - my first job.
After work, Duane - my step-dad - came to pick me up. I was tired, and didn't realize how tipsy he was until I looked back on it years later. As it was, I laughed at him when he completely passed our house, and had to circle around the block to find it again.
Back in those days, my Grandma Rodgers - a truly strong and amazing woman in her own right - came and spent the night before Thanksgiving at our house to help my mom cook and prepare for the Thanksgiving feast.
On this particular night, I laid down on my bed, the room dark - lit only by the light of my stereo receiver - and began listening to Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album from front to back - the first time I'd ever heard the entire album.
Mesmerized by the dark and gloomy music, I closed my eyes and relaxed, inhaling the amazing aromas of tomorrow's sure-to-be tasty banquet made for giving thanks.
I was warm, I was comforted, I was home, and had no worries in the world.
And ever since that night when all of my senses vibrated as one for one amazing moment, I have made it a habit...
To listen to Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album from first note to final growl, and think happily about that moment all those years ago - and how important my grandmother was to me.
Yes, I listen to Black Sabbath and think of my grandmother at Thanksgiving.
And I am proud of it!
On Thanksgiving Eve, 1982, I was working hard at Olga's Kitchen at Lakeside Mall - my first job.
After work, Duane - my step-dad - came to pick me up. I was tired, and didn't realize how tipsy he was until I looked back on it years later. As it was, I laughed at him when he completely passed our house, and had to circle around the block to find it again.
Back in those days, my Grandma Rodgers - a truly strong and amazing woman in her own right - came and spent the night before Thanksgiving at our house to help my mom cook and prepare for the Thanksgiving feast.
On this particular night, I laid down on my bed, the room dark - lit only by the light of my stereo receiver - and began listening to Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album from front to back - the first time I'd ever heard the entire album.
Mesmerized by the dark and gloomy music, I closed my eyes and relaxed, inhaling the amazing aromas of tomorrow's sure-to-be tasty banquet made for giving thanks.
I was warm, I was comforted, I was home, and had no worries in the world.
And ever since that night when all of my senses vibrated as one for one amazing moment, I have made it a habit...
To listen to Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album from first note to final growl, and think happily about that moment all those years ago - and how important my grandmother was to me.
Yes, I listen to Black Sabbath and think of my grandmother at Thanksgiving.
And I am proud of it!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Number 9, Number 9, Number 9...
The other day, I saw my oncologist again. Yearly checkup. Year 9.
And although everything is fine, I always get nervous seeing him.
And although I love the man, I always get nervous seeing him.
And although everything is fine, seeing him snaps me back to reality. About what is important, and what isn't.
I get introspective when I see my oncologist. Time heals all wounds, but some things change your life forever. The bad, and the good, and sometimes even the indifferent.
My doc made an important point the other day. He said that for the first time in history, we - as a society - have more cancer survivors than those with malignancies. Now, we need to understand the long term effects of the treatments that have allowed for so many survivors.
And though I am tickled to be one of those survivors, I need to be cognizant of potential issues. Add my chick disease - Sjogren's - on top of that, and there is more to be aware of down the road.
March will be 10 years since my original diagnosis. And although my oncologist keeps reminding me that I've got things I need to keep an eye out for, a man has gotta live his life. A man has got to make the most of the time he has ahead of him. And although there are things that we may have to worry about as a result of being a survivor, there are things we need to worry about being alive.
Why do we look both ways before crossing the street? Why do I need to get yearly CT scans?
If we have a lesson to learn, it must be that we have to live life to its fullest.
The other day, I saw my oncologist again. Yearly checkup. Year 9.
And although everything is fine, I always get nervous seeing him.
And although I love the man, I always get nervous seeing him.
And although everything is fine, seeing him snaps me back to reality. About what is important, and what isn't.
I get introspective when I see my oncologist. Time heals all wounds, but some things change your life forever. The bad, and the good, and sometimes even the indifferent.
My doc made an important point the other day. He said that for the first time in history, we - as a society - have more cancer survivors than those with malignancies. Now, we need to understand the long term effects of the treatments that have allowed for so many survivors.
And though I am tickled to be one of those survivors, I need to be cognizant of potential issues. Add my chick disease - Sjogren's - on top of that, and there is more to be aware of down the road.
March will be 10 years since my original diagnosis. And although my oncologist keeps reminding me that I've got things I need to keep an eye out for, a man has gotta live his life. A man has got to make the most of the time he has ahead of him. And although there are things that we may have to worry about as a result of being a survivor, there are things we need to worry about being alive.
Why do we look both ways before crossing the street? Why do I need to get yearly CT scans?
If we have a lesson to learn, it must be that we have to live life to its fullest.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Oh My Stars and Garters!
One of my favorite childhood comic book characters - The Beast - once sang a song that I thought of so many times this year:
"Take me out to the ballgame, buy me a whole bunch of beer..."
Tonight, the baseball season ended 10 days too early for the Detroit Tigers. That said, I actually expected them to lose the other night. But they gave me - and the city of Detroit - hope.
And what more could you ask from these guys?
Sheryl is the reason for my renewed love of the game of baseball. It was in appreciation of her, mostly, but also in appreciation of the game, that I took Sheryl to Tigerfest back in January for her birthday.
God, the smile on her face... turns me to Jell-o every time I remember it.
This year, instead of going to Cooperstown for our anniversary, we bought a 28-game package.
We shivered through April and May games. But we saw Justin Verlander's first game at home after his no hitter in Toronto, and I happened to capture it in a photo - the Cleveland Indians were no-hit into 8 innings.
We enjoyed the summer warmth in late June, and grabbed a couple of batting practice balls during a game with the Twins.
Speaking of the Twins, we were at Delmon Young's first game as a Tiger - against the Twins. And, well, we were also at Jim Thome's 600th home run night. Same game?
Oh boy, we were at WAY TOO MANY of Brad Penny's SLLLLOOOOWWWLLLYY pitched games!
We attended Christmas in July with one of my college roommates, and I attended a May Yankees game with my other college roommate - who reminded me that his first game ever - in the early to mid 1970s - was Tigers v. Yankees at Tiger Stadium. How cool is that?
A few weeks after Phil Coke twisted his ankle and was out of the lineup, I was able to ask him how the ankle felt: "Good," he said, "Real good!" Sheryl got his autograph, and a few others after standing eye to eye with Magglio Ordonez, with nothing to be signed and nothing to sign it with. One of many, many laughs I had with my amazing wife at CoPa this year.
Sheryl went to her first opening day this year, and I was thrilled to be her date (despite the cold!). And a couple of short weeks ago, both of us - with my mom and Bill - went to our first playoff game. We had tickets to both game 7 of the ALCS (which was never going to happen at CoPa), and game 3 of the World Series... which was scheduled for next Saturday.
We took Sheryl's nephew, my nephew, and niece to games this summer, and I went to a game with my team at work.
Wow. Every game has a story!
Of the most memorable games this year was the one where we won the 50/50 raffle. We were blessed to win, and to be able to share our winnings with the CATCH, CLF, Gilda's Club, The Lake House, and Capuchin Soup Kitchen charities.
Wow, we had a blast this year!
Tonight, I saw Jim Leyland's post-game press conference. This season, people either loved or hated Jim. I understood all but one of his decisions - and that decision was Delmon Young's appearance in the post-season after he had hurt his oblique, and went 0-5 the game before.
But no matter how you felt about Leyland, you have to admit that he's a classy guy. And I will step up and admit that I am definitely on his side.
So to all the great memories of the season, and the hope and pride they gave the city of Detroit, I just want to say: Bless you boys... here comes winter, with the promise of another spring...
One of my favorite childhood comic book characters - The Beast - once sang a song that I thought of so many times this year:
"Take me out to the ballgame, buy me a whole bunch of beer..."
Tonight, the baseball season ended 10 days too early for the Detroit Tigers. That said, I actually expected them to lose the other night. But they gave me - and the city of Detroit - hope.
And what more could you ask from these guys?
Sheryl is the reason for my renewed love of the game of baseball. It was in appreciation of her, mostly, but also in appreciation of the game, that I took Sheryl to Tigerfest back in January for her birthday.
God, the smile on her face... turns me to Jell-o every time I remember it.
This year, instead of going to Cooperstown for our anniversary, we bought a 28-game package.
We shivered through April and May games. But we saw Justin Verlander's first game at home after his no hitter in Toronto, and I happened to capture it in a photo - the Cleveland Indians were no-hit into 8 innings.
We enjoyed the summer warmth in late June, and grabbed a couple of batting practice balls during a game with the Twins.
Speaking of the Twins, we were at Delmon Young's first game as a Tiger - against the Twins. And, well, we were also at Jim Thome's 600th home run night. Same game?
Oh boy, we were at WAY TOO MANY of Brad Penny's SLLLLOOOOWWWLLLYY pitched games!
We attended Christmas in July with one of my college roommates, and I attended a May Yankees game with my other college roommate - who reminded me that his first game ever - in the early to mid 1970s - was Tigers v. Yankees at Tiger Stadium. How cool is that?
A few weeks after Phil Coke twisted his ankle and was out of the lineup, I was able to ask him how the ankle felt: "Good," he said, "Real good!" Sheryl got his autograph, and a few others after standing eye to eye with Magglio Ordonez, with nothing to be signed and nothing to sign it with. One of many, many laughs I had with my amazing wife at CoPa this year.
Sheryl went to her first opening day this year, and I was thrilled to be her date (despite the cold!). And a couple of short weeks ago, both of us - with my mom and Bill - went to our first playoff game. We had tickets to both game 7 of the ALCS (which was never going to happen at CoPa), and game 3 of the World Series... which was scheduled for next Saturday.
We took Sheryl's nephew, my nephew, and niece to games this summer, and I went to a game with my team at work.
Wow. Every game has a story!
Of the most memorable games this year was the one where we won the 50/50 raffle. We were blessed to win, and to be able to share our winnings with the CATCH, CLF, Gilda's Club, The Lake House, and Capuchin Soup Kitchen charities.
Wow, we had a blast this year!
Tonight, I saw Jim Leyland's post-game press conference. This season, people either loved or hated Jim. I understood all but one of his decisions - and that decision was Delmon Young's appearance in the post-season after he had hurt his oblique, and went 0-5 the game before.
But no matter how you felt about Leyland, you have to admit that he's a classy guy. And I will step up and admit that I am definitely on his side.
So to all the great memories of the season, and the hope and pride they gave the city of Detroit, I just want to say: Bless you boys... here comes winter, with the promise of another spring...
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