Welcome to the My Blog. Here. Have Some Depression.

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I pretty much blew off the blog thing for March. S'been a rough past few weeks. Dad's got the big 'C' - multiple myeloma, they tell us - and I haven't had the inspiration to write much of anything. I did manage to get down about 500 words for a story I've had percolating in the ol' noggin, but I was so consumed with the thought of losing my dad that my train of thought derailed Amtrak-style, and crashed and burned before I wrote anything of substance. 


Yep, these are dark days, but, being the sort of fellow I am (ie; both quasi religious and heavily medicated), I'm coming to grips with the fact that my father's time here may be soon coming to an end and that, when he does go, it will be to a far better place; one where my mother will be waiting with a gin and tonic and a wry smile and saying "See? I told you you couldn't live without me!"


It's a bit troubling that, at 40, I still sort of depend on my dad for...well...dad things. I can't fix a toilet or put up a fence. Hell, I can't nail two boards together without a trip to the emergency room. My father? He's a man's man. He's all power tools and engine oil. Me? I'm a wuss. I'm all video games and lattes. If my oil light is on in my car, I cover it with electrical tape. If something breaks, I either hide it or throw it away. If I can't fix it with duct tape, I chuck it in the woods and let nature reclaim it. 


So what, exactly, will I do when my father's gone? Even in his diminished state, where he's barely able to walk from his bedroom to the kitchen table without taking a break, he's still checking the fluid levels in my wife's car every morning and arranging the seeds for this year's garden. Up until recently, he was the guy who fixed my deck or replaced my windows or built our flower boxes. Now it's up to me to do those things for myself. And, like my father, I'll eventually get the hang of it, I'm sure. Who knows? Maybe one day my own kid will be asking me to build his flower boxes, fix his deck, and take care of  his car.


God help him...




Sorry to hear about your Dad

Sorry to hear about your Dad , Jim. I know firsthand what that's like, even though it was emphysema that helped do him in andnot the big C. It's been nearly 13 years and I still wonder what he and my Mom for that matter would think of the kids now...
hang in there.

Man...I feel like a schmuck!

  Wow...I am so sorry about the bad news.  Seems like blogging is that last thing on earth for you to worry about.  And here I am...bugging you about it!  I really am sorry about that....seriously if you need anything at all......Matt and I are happy to help, in any way possible.

LOL! No, no, Steph, don't

LOL! No, no, Steph, don't feel like a schmuck! I'm a writer. I'm SUPPOSED to write about stuff like this, but I'm of the mind that no one cares about my personal life, so why pollute my blog with it. I mean, it's one thing to post happy thoughts and writing-related stuff, but I didn't really want to write about something like this as some may think I'm fishing for sympathy or some such nonsense. Then again, no one really reads this blog, so I could probably write about anything and get away with it! :P


Thanks for your thoughts and I appreciate your support :)

Happy to read...

  Yeah so thanks for making me feel un-schmuck like.   Anyway, write about anything and everything...I'll be happy to read anything you blog about.  Then again, not much of a life here...and I can't imagine anyone thinking you are "fishing for sympathay."  Life is full of the good and bad...blah blah...don't want to get too deep....but support totally sincere.  I can come help you fix a toilet or appliance anytime :) 

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