Listening To Silence

Through the years, if you have read these pages, you have come to recognize that when I speak of Silence, I speak about my Higher Power. This deity does not need to constantly speak or be spoken about to be understood.

Whether you learned about your God through a book of religion or through word of mouth, that Being doesn’t constantly bombard you with the same message over and over again. We learn as children that stealing was wrong. Well, as a child I stole and I learned that those actions lead to serious consequences. The thing about it though, was I knew stealing was wrong, so I didn’t need to be told again how wrong it was. I had a choice and made it. Yes, it was the wrong choice but I made it and lived with it.

Silence taught me how to respect others and to love my neighbours. Yes, I read it in a book. Yet, it didn’t matter where the lesson was learned, all that mattered it was taught and didn’t need to be repeated over and over again.

I believe we learn when we are silent, not when we are talking. Not when we are belittling or knifing someone in the back. I was recently sent a video from a former place of employment. There was a mention about my job while I was employed there. I wasn’t mentioned specifically but I noticed that in the three years since I left, not one new product has been introduced. Granted, I know that some of these products were “reinvented” to fit in with a more greener-healthier generation than those of the past.

I know for awhile three people tried doing the job I did and was told by one how it had evolved into a circus. Much of nothing getting accomplished. They got to see first hand how much people criticized your work, yet to succeed, you needed to be silent, take mental notes and try again.

One of the biggest people to belittle me and stab me in the back was one of the people who tried to do the job I was doing. Karma is a bitch! It came back and stabbed that person in the back. That person got to hear the critiques and the ridicule of others and that person maybe listened but would have never remained silent.

Towards the end of my employment with that company I began to become bitter, mainly because of the lack of respect I was shown. I still listened to Silence and realized that I couldn’t change anything. I had no control and my voice had become silent due to the constant stabs in the back.

I do believe most of these stabbings were done because of insecurity and jealously. If these same people would have listened to the Silence, they would have realized that I wasn’t a threat. I wasn’t after their jobs or their place in the organization, I was just trying to carve out my own little place in that same company.

Sadly, I do feel a bit happy about what they went through. They learned what I went through with very little support from those I considered co-workers. Yet, today I listened to the Silence and realize that this Silence has filled me with love and respect. If not from others at least from myself.

Bye-bye Creating Dreams

In July of 2019, Creating Dreams will have been up and running for the last 15 years. And while the audience has remained loyal and true the time has come to evaluate where are we going from here. Damaged Merchandise has been ready for publication for over a year but I just haven’t put the final touches on it. War Zone is further away but has been started for its second release. While the two CD’s are moving along at a slow but steady pace.

The hard part has been the website. It is managed by Yahoo Small Business, now under the name of Aabaco Small Business, and while they are quite good at taking money from me every month to keep the site active, they offer very little support.

Two years ago Yahoo (Aabaco) had their e-mail servers hacked and my business account was one of the ones that has been hacked. So some contacts quite chatting with me through that e-mail account and instead we went to Facebook for our talks.

Recently though Yahoo said they were upgrading the business so while I was excited with the possible changes I was also quite sceptical. So the changes came and my business e-mail disappeared. With this all my email contacts disappeared. All my business emails as well as some very private emails disappeared.

I sent a notice about this to the support teams and was told they couldn’t fix it and they’d send it to the next higher group to fix it. Well two more notices later and nothing is being done, in fact, they aren’t even talking to me.

So with this in mind, maybe my Higher Power is speaking to me and saying it is time to go. So in early June Creating Dreams will disappear from the web. I’ll still be active with this blog, twitter, and Facebook.

In fact, I’ll probably be more active. Creating Dreams hasn’t been the same since Yahoo (Aabaco) was hacked and I lost a lot of support because of it. Now is the time to say good-bye to a horrible web server and a big hello to a new audience and welcome back to old friends...

ISIS Brides? No Humility... No Home

While the war with ISIS is coming to an end in Syria and Iraq, the war between the jihadis and their home countries is just beginning. There isn’t an easy answer with what to do with these people one thing stands out for me,

It’s the same thing that stands out for the alcoholic/addict early in their recovery. They want forgiveness and they do it by making amends and a strong sense of humility. They don’t justify what they have done, all they do is admit that what they did was wrong.

Recently, two different ISIS brides wanted to return home. They are both living in a refugee camp near the Turkey border in Syria. One is an American, the other is from Britain. Whether either one gets to return to their homes is not what I’m writing about. In no way should this be received as a political post. The only thing I noticed from these two ladies is the method which they are trying to use to return home.

The one from America is asking for forgiveness. She admits she made a mistake, that she was naive and arrogant. While the one from England, says she did it for religious beliefs. Beheadings didn’t bother her because it was done in the name of religion. She made the comment that the Manchester Arena bombing was justified because of the bombings in ISIS lands. Not once did she apologize for her role with any of it.

She was more concerned that the British people realized that she was pregnant with a third child. She wanted our pity because her two other children died from malnutrition. That in itself should allow her to return home.

It wasn’t enough to convince the Home Secretary that she should be allowed to come home. In fact, it had the reverse effect. He revoked her citizenship, leaving her no way to return to England. What was her response? She said she was shocked and would now look at her husband’s home in the Netherlands. She would move there and wait for him to get out of jail.

She was so sure she would be allowed to return to England and it didn’t happen. Now she sounds sure she will be welcomed in the Netherlands. Whatever does happen to her it will be of her own doings.

She freely went to Syria, with the intentions of living in the caliphate. It is time to accept responsibility for your actions and not wait for someone to give you pity.

Who would you rather help? The alcoholic who comes to you with regret and remorse. Who offers no explanation for their behaviour, only an “I’m sorry.” Or would you rather help the alcoholic, who blames it all on booze and can’t really apologize, because well, he was drunk at the time?

Humility goes a long way towards healing wounds. It goes a long way to becoming a spiritual being. Humility doesn’t correct the wrongs, what it does do is move things in the right direction. If you need to use pity to get your way, then you will always be living a life of manipulation and lies.

Watching these two on the TV and reading newspaper articles about them, I do hope one gets a second chance. The other? Don’t really care what happens to her. Why? Because through it all it has been about “me-me-me.” Not once has it been about any one else but herself.

Humility doesn’t mean you think less of yourself. It just means you think of yourself less.

Enjoy the process

September is upon us, which means it’s the start of football season. Football (soccer) in England started the second weekend in August, now for this American, real football starts the first day of September. And for me, that means Iowa State University will be taking the field against South Dakota State.

For so many years I sat back with a silent hope that this year it would be different. That Iowa State (the Cyclones) would be better than last year. Then by the end of the year they would be lucky to have won three games. Three wins and nine loses was a good year. Then 2017 happened. The Cyclones beat the number 3 team in the nation – Oklahoma. They followed that up with a win against the number 4 team in the nation – TCU. To say it was good year was an understatement. They won 8 games while losing 5. Those 8 wins equalled the total wins for the previous three seasons. As an Iowa State fan, to say I’m excited for this year would be an understatement.

What is impressive with Iowa State is that they don’t get the best high school athletes. The five star studs don’t want to go to a school that doesn’t have an impressive history of winning games or going to major bowls. The coaching staff have to evaluate talent that others don’t see. To put it simply, they need to find diamonds in the rough.

More impressive than the wins has been the “process” to get to this point. I put process in quotes because their coach speaks about it often. The idea is if you work the process, if you love the process, than the process will love you. What is the process? The team has another slogan they use. Win in the dark.

The idea being that when the lights are out and no one is watching is when the process starts. As players, they need to eat right, get the right amount of sleep, lift weights, run, and stay in shape. The process also means being a good student. Every phase of your life must be part of the process. It must be clean, it must be pure. When this is accomplished then playing football becomes part of the process. Then when they are out in the lights and their fans are cheering them on, they become one, not only with the process, but also with each other.

They know what they should do. They are not expected to grow from a three star player to a five star player. They are expected to be the best three star player they can be and to trust that their three star teammate is also being the best they can be.

What works for a team can also work in our personal lives. It can work with our jobs and our co-workers. Everyone has a personal responsibility to their team. Good work, good ethics, good morals, and a good trusting teammate. They accomplish that then they become one with the process. In reality, the process works with every aspect of our lives. Your workmates, your family… we all need to work together, to trust each other and to love each other, so we too, can become one with the process…

UK vs USA

Having visited England for six years prior to moving here two and a half years ago, I do believe I can make an honest assessment between the two countries. Many people believe, myself included, that moving between the two countries wouldn’t be that much of a change. I was in for a rude awakening when instead of a visitor, I became a resident. At times, I just wanted to throw in the towel and head back to America with my tail between my legs.

The reason I moved here was because of a lovely British gal and no matter how much I wanted to run away, I wasn’t going to give up on our life together. So I carried on and fought a battle within myself to change what I had learned for over 50 years, to adapt to a new culture and a new way of life.

Admittedly, I still make more than my share of mistakes. Now though, I realize I am the one who needs to adapt, not for a country to adapt to me. Some things were easy to accept and quickly fall in love with. One example would be bacon. Both countries love their bacon. And as an American I can honestly say, you haven’t tasted bacon until you tasted English bacon. Another example with food products is Mountain Dew. The American version of this drink can not be purchased in England. The reason being that one of the preservatives used in it is considered a poison in the UK. To put it simply, all of Europe is a lot stricter with food products than America.

Adapting to food has been one of the more comfortable changes I have had to make. One of the more difficult changes has been employment. From zero hour contracts to contracts in general, work in the UK is more frustrating and in a somewhat bad way, more employee friendly. As an employer, if you have a “bad” employee, it can take forever to fire (sack) him. These employee’s can show up late, leave early and still have a secure job.

The younger generation will work but very few go above and beyond to improve their lives. They know how much to work and when to quit. If they work to much, they can hurt whatever benefits they get from the government. In America, if you work, you may get help with food, in the UK, you can get help with your housing and sometimes travel expenses as well. Some have kids and want to work even less, so they get help with their housing. As and immigrant I am not entitled to any government benefits. Imagine that America. No benefits for immigrants! For me, it is for the first five years that I live here. I consider it one of the smarter things England has done.

Even though, I’m not entitled to any benefits, I am able to receive healthcare. When I moved here I paid a surcharge to have the ability to use the National Health Service (NHS). Now as a working member of the British society I contribute through my taxes to use the NHS as well as help others to have the ability to use it.

This is one expense I have no problem with. I remember back in the 80s when America was giving free breast screenings for woman to look for cancer. Yes, the tests were free, but if you had cancer then you needed money to treat it. Let’s face it. Only the poor people would use this free service. Then when they found out they had cancer there was nothing they could do to treat it.

The reality is that both countries have their own pros and cons. In a very simple nutshell, capitalism says you work to afford things. Mainly though, you work for one benefit – health insurance. One health issue can bankrupt a person. In 2014, I had open heart surgery. The total cost was a quarter of a million dollars. It was also the first year of Obamacare. Without insurance and without Obamacare, I would have gone bankrupt.

In 2016, my first year in England, I was diagnosed with mouth cancer. I had 30 days of radio therapy and spent over two weeks in the hospital. Two years later I see an ENT every three months for check-ups, and through it all I have never seen one bill for any of it. In fact, one expense was even eliminated. If you have cancer, for five years afterwards you get all your medical prescriptions for free.

To be going through cancer or a major health crisis and not have to worry about any bills, makes for an easier path to recovery.

Our two countries have so much in common, yet we also have so much that divides us. We should never assume and American is a Brit, nor should we assume that a Brit is and America. They are two totally unique countries, with a long history that both countries can be proud of.

There is so much difference that it would make an interesting book, from a personal perspective. … hmmm!?!

The narcissistic bully

Have you ever met a person who shows superficial charm, has an overinflated self-worth, is a pathological liar, as well as a con artist? These people show no remorse, have a parasitic lifestyle, and fail to accept responsibility for their own actions. If you have met someone like this then you have met a sociopath.

How about a person who has a grandiose sense of self-importance and has fantasies that they are famous? They are sure they’re unique and special, while from their family and co-workers they require absolute devotion and admiration. They have a total sense of entitlement and can not show empathy. If you have met these folks than you have met a narcissist.

Combine the two and you have a narcissistic sociopath. A person incapable of change.

The narcissistic bully

a behaviour can be changed

a behaviour can be improved

from anti-social to social

a hoodlum from the past

becoming a friend of today

a lifetime to develop a personality

not always improved

not always changed

what you see is what you get

sometimes a friend… sometimes a bully

the friend thinks of others

the friend shows empathy

the friend listens more than talks

grateful to see the friend

grateful to be a friend

the bully thinks of me-me-me

the bully don’t care

the bully talks and shuts others down

anger fills the bully

disgust fills others

confrontation doesn’t always bring rewards

the bully becomes the victim

from look at me-me-me

it goes to poor me-me-me

no remorse… no regrets

ok for a day… a week… a month

yet no permanent change

the anti social personality returns

the narcissist lives on

the sociopath stays strong

easier said than done

ignore… don’t chat… walk away

don’t give the narcissist power

on their pedestal they live with drama

they don’t care about you… walk away

the sociopath don’t care

no remorse… no shame… no guilt

the narcissist says look at me

no time for you… all me-me-me

do you really need the grief?

Cats in Heaven

I have been dealing with a heavy heart this past month with the death of our family pet, a lovely beautiful cat named Louise. Her death hit me harder than I ever imagined was possible. She was a sensitive soul. Which made me wonder about souls.

I grew up as a Catholic and as such, I learned that animals have no soul… they just die and disappear. Can this be the truth? After Louise and I let each other into our lives, I can’t accept that there isn’t an afterlife for pets.

How can something filled with such love, that brings such joy have no afterlife? How can I have such a heavy heart and have cried enough tears to fill a bucket, for a creature that has no life?

I’ve looked at different writings and found some thoughts which I found to be quite powerful. The Episcopal Church treats animals with love and respect. Some of the churches have services for your pets, so they can be blessed. Some of the churches will hold funeral services for our fur babies. But do they recognize that animals have souls?

One theologian wrote that animals do have souls. So the first argument to this debate is that Christ came to save the soul of man… not animals. Yes, He did come to do that because man sins… animals do not sin!

Again, I can not believe that this much love means nothing. By nothing, I mean that there is no future to see Louise again. I can’t accept that. Someday, I’ll see that beautiful creature again. She’ll recognize me and meow. She’ll wag her tail, like only she could do, in love when I feed her some treats.

Louise left this world with his favourite toy mouse and a shirt with her mum’s scent. She left this world in the arm’s of my wife, while looking at me. Through it all we cried and made plans on Louise’s life with us after her death.

She is with us physically and spiritually. There hasn’t been one day where I haven’t thought about her and missed her. She was my friend, my child, and a companion. Now, tell me again how this beautiful creature doesn’t have a soul? That this creation of God’s that freely gave love doesn’t have an eternal life. Love lives for all eternity and so will Louise…

An end to looooonnnng winter nights

I have spent parts or all of the past eight winters in England and the winter of 2018 has been the coldest. It has been the snowiest as well as the windiest winter I have experienced here. I live in the highlands of England, so there is very little protection from the winds.

Going outside to walk to town isn’t that bad. Yes, I do walk north right into the winds but it is all downhill, so it can be a very quick walk. It’s the walk home that is the challenge. The wind is at your back, but going uphill it just takes your breath away.

Granted, it is still very mild compared to the winters I lived in while in Nebraska, yet it has still been a shock. This country doesn’t have road graders so the snow stays where it falls, which really isn’t that bad, as even six inches of snow is usually gone within 48 hours. And the sidewalks? They are never shovelled. The belief is that if you shovel them than you accept responsibility for them. So if someone slips on your shovelled walk than you are responsible. If they fall on an sidewalk that is not shovelled than the town is responsible. Again, it is not that big of a deal because the snow is gone pretty fast.

So what’s a person to do in this type of weather? I started remodelling the loft where we live. When it is done, we will have an upstairs living area for a guest room and just a quiet place, where you can sit back and look out the skylights at the stars. When done, I’ll also have a place to play my Native American Flutes.

I also have been doing the finishing touches on the second edition of Damaged Merchandise, which hopefully will be back in print before summer of 2018. Then it will be back to work on War Zone. In the meantime though, between work for money and work around the home for enjoyment I have been playing around with writing a novel. Everything I have written has been about my personal experiences.

This is just a story. A romantic novel. Well, maybe not romantic. My personal belief is that men can’t do romantic novels justice. This is more of an erotic novel – close to pornographic, but not quite. Whether it is erotic or pornographic, I will say that if I ever finish it and try to publish it, it will be done with a pen name.

Not that I’d be embarrassed by it but rather I just don’t want to try and explain it. It’s just a story. A story that I have seen parts of on the movie screen and parts I have seen in real life. A story about what people would do to keep a roof over their heads.

Some folks would get a second job, but what if a second job is unattainable? Maybe they can help the landlord with doing odd work around the property in lieu of rent. Some folks may resort to prostitution or becoming a nude model. In short, doing just about anything to make more money.

That is the premise of this book. Kind of a “Fifty Shades of Gray” with “The Graduate” thrown in. Again, it may never be finished. It’s just been something to pass away the long winter nights in England.

With spring rapidly approaching, this may sit on the back burner till next winter, yet it has been enlightening trying to write something just from watching TV and seeing what people do to make money or do to try and avoid bill collectors.

Eloquence And Grace

The one gift I have acquired through the years is seeing beauty in simple things. After I found a Higher Power through sobriety a sunset never looked the same. A sunrise always seems to bring joy and a feeling of rebirth.

I have come close with death. I watched my ex-wife die and be brought back to life. I witness near death myself after complications from heart surgery. While in the hospital during cancer treatment I saw the families of two patients, within minutes of their loved ones death.

Have you ever just watched a pigeon? Constantly searching for food and coming so close to taking a crumb from your fingers… showing trust to a giant… a higher power if you will.

Look at God’s handiwork with every doctor, teacher, and pilot. As well as the plumber and carpenter. All using God’s gifts to help others.

Then look at those creations. Computers, planes, and boats. To earlier times with a carriage, a wheel, and a windmill.

Eloquence and Grace

standing tall… proud and alone
a symbol of hard work and perseverance
spinning tales and stories long forgotten
giving us memories of family
and a loving  caring way

simple eloquence… eternal beauty
a melody of time… the windmill constantly singing
spinning… sweet music in the heartland
your distinct sound… our lullaby at night
forever moving… forever working

simpler times… home on the plains
weathered wood or rusted metal
dignified with style… in bitter cold and scorching heat
making the roughest weather serve you
a value… we’ll always treasure

withstanding the test of time
you’ve graced our landscape
and as we walk below you
we wonder how many stories have yet to be told
and how many more memories will be shared

Capitalism vs Socialism

Having lived and worked in England for the last two years, I believe I can make a comparison between capitalism and socialism based on my experiences in these philosophies, both politically and economically.

This isn’t meant as a political statement, saying one is better than the other. In my opinion, both have some good points as well as their bad points. I’m just speaking as a person who has worked for over 40 years and has grown in my thoughts about what it takes to be a good employee and citizen as well as what it takes to be a good employer and caretaker of the nation.

What I have found to be the most difficult part about working in a socialist society for the last two years is that I’m not entirely working for my own benefit. I don’t mind helping others. I did it in America by donating to the Salvation Army throughout the year, with monetary gifts as well as quality second hand products. In the UK, some of my taxes goes to help others, which again I don’t mind, but the “helping” others get can amount to more than what a full time job offers. So in the end, why work?

The people that work in England – work. Than you have a group that works because they have too, yet they do just the bare minimum and rely on the government to fill in the shortfall. In America, there were two major times in my life where I was unemployed. The first time I ended up homeless. The second time was because of being made redundant.

The first time I didn’t have enough of a work history to get government help. The second time, I was offered classes to help find a job but I never received a penny in unemployment compensation. I didn’t receive food stamps or any help with rent or to help pay the utility bills. In England, I could have had a nice “paycheck” with all the benefits I would have received.

This part of socialism I don’t like. If I work, I should be paid a good wage and it is mine to do with what I want. I shouldn’t have to support those who don’t want to work. If I work to support others, what is the incentive to work? It is a part of American capitalism I agree with. You work to better your life. If that means you have more money than your neighbour than so be it. And vice-versa, if my neighbour has more than you have, it means they have worked for it and have earned it.

The part of capitalism I don’t like is health care. If you have money you can afford insurance, prescriptions, hospital care, doctors, and everything else. If you don’t have the money you won’t be able to take care of yourself medically without some kind of outside help. And to get that help means getting government assistance which is filled with shame and guilt. So people wait as long as they can before seeing a doctor. Sometimes the wait is to long and feeling better is no longer an option.

Years ago America used to offer free breast cancer screenings. It was a great idea to help poor people get checked for cancer for free. The problem was that after being diagnosed with cancer the patients didn’t have the resources to get treatment. So, nothing got done. The person knew they had cancer, yet the government wouldn’t help them without jumping through hoops and sacrificing whatever little they had just for a chance to receive therapy.

Recently I was sent a notice for a free bowel (colon) cancer screening. Everything turned out to be normal and that is the end of it for two years. If there was a problem I would have been sent for a colonoscopy and whatever else needed would be done without anyone asking how you would pay for it.

Something is wrong in a society that judges healthcare with the amount of money you have in your bank and what kind of job you have. Part of my taxes in England go towards health care, not just for me but for those who can’t contribute. This is part of human decency, anything less of being treated as equal we should feel ashamed.

I’ll quit there before I turn this into a political speech...

Dreams of Yesterday

Oh the Dreams Of Yesterday, for me they will forever stay.  Great job or should I say career? A wonderful home, with fancy cars.  Everything that was preached to me as a child... so many dreams, but like the end of this poem wonders...
... or is life just one... continuing nightmare... where the true evil... is part of the dream

 

Dreams of Yesterday

remembering the dreams of yesterday
seen in a peaceful sleep
dreams with no worries
stress free… wonderful sleep
it seems so long ago
a war in a mind
that never is at rest
a mind occupied with thoughts
beyond… control

sheets thrown around
pillows sprawled across the floor
wake up in a cold sweat
wondering if another day
can be survived
spent so long being down
forgot how to feel…
happiness… love…

remembering the dreams of yesterday
at least… maybe they’re memories
of innocence and…
euphoric comfort
will those dreams ever return
or is life just one
continuing nightmare
where the true evil
is part of the dream

Living Within Our Means

For years the start of a new year, for me, was the start of stressful times. The joy of celebrating Christmas was over and now the reality was setting in. How was I going to pay for all of this? I gave the kids some amazing gifts… everyone of them was paid for with a credit card. Not one card, not even two cards… at least three cards, maybe four.

The time was coming that payments would be due. Of course, there was no way I could pay them off in full. Not all four anyway. Hell, I couldn’t pay one of them off, why even think about four? So began the minimum payment cycle on all of them. Months would pass and it seemed like I hadn’t paid anything on them. My checking account was getting smaller but the balance on those cards didn’t seem to be shrinking at all.

I look back at those days and see how insane they were. I was trying to buy love. What was really amazing was how much control children had over me. They were great manipulators and knew how to fill my head with shame for broken promises throughout the year. I can’t blame them. They were kids, I was suppose to be the one in charge. And certainly, I was the one supposedly in charge of the money.

I was the one who knew how much money I had for gifts, not including credit cards, yet it never seemed to be enough. I can still catch myself in that trap of thinking that the gifts I gave were not enough. The other part of it is when do I quit giving gifts to the ungrateful?

For years I have given money to my kids, so their families and their kids can have a nice Christmas without falling into the traps I fell into. Yet, not once in over a dozen years did I ever get a thank you note, heck I rarely even got a Christmas card. Don’t mean to sound like I’m whining, my question is when do we stop trying to buy love and just move on?

This past holiday season I saw in myself how much of an addiction the holidays can be. I purchased a beautiful gift for my wife. One gift. Then my mind started wondering. Is that enough? Surely, I can find something else! I searched and looked and in the end I stayed with that one gift. I did also get a Christmas card for her and that was it.

When we opened our gifts she loved her card and two days later was still looking at it with love. The expression she had when she held her gift wrapped present was priceless. It is a photo that I will have in my mind forever.

It was perfect. One gift. Perfection. She didn’t want more… nor ask for more. One gift. And the ultimate gift? It is paid for and the books on this Christmas are closed – paid in full.

My life has been always trying to please others. The best way I knew how to do that was by buying their acceptance. The messages of my childhood that I was “less than” has stayed with me my whole life. Getting rid of those messages is a daily struggle. I don’t need to buy love. I don’t need to do anything special to earn acceptance. I don’t need to lose my own identity to please others because in the end, by doing so, I’ll never please myself.

Living with humility and gratitude

As the year heads towards the finish line, I can look back with grace, humility, and peace. I look back with gratitude for yet another chance to live this life. Three years ago, I head open heart surgery and had a near death experience. An experience that gave me a sense of peace realizing that if my life was over I could accept it, knowing that I was not alone.

Yes, at that time I was physically alone but I was in the minds and prayers of people close to that hospital as well as people from around the world… and that night I felt them all in my room. I also felt my Higher Power, cuddling me, comforting me, and making my pain more manageable.

I got through all of that and change my life. I left a comfortable job that I had for nearly twenty years and I moved away. Not across town or across the country. Oh no, I moved to a new continent. I grew up seeing the sun rise on the Atlantic Ocean, now I see the sunset on the ocean.

I left an America where the sea was at least an 18 hour drive away. I moved to England, a beautiful island where I am never more than 100 miles from the water.

I found a job where what you knew didn’t matter, if you could count and read a board and work really fast than you were a good employee. I left a job that was more like a family than co-workers, to a job where supervisors knew you by a number not a name. I hated every second of it but I still showed up and gave it my all for my new life.

Suddenly though things changed. I had a sore throat that just wouldn’t go away. After many home remedies failed and our local doctor couldn’t stop it, I saw an ENT specialist. I had numerous tests and found out I had cancer. It was year ago that I was in treatment. A treatment that was harder on me than I ever imagined.

Now a year later, I could have never imagined how far I have come. I got a new job. At times a very demanding job but I do enjoy it. I see a part of life that I was a part of for many years. I see the homeless. I see the addicted, as well as those who sell their bodies either for food or for drugs.

I see the look of death in their eyes and the feeling of hopelessness knowing there is little I can do. I do offer an ear to listen and to show them a little bit of respect, but besides that I am hopeless.

The decision to change is in their hands – not mine. Just as the decision to do chemo and radiation was my choice. I could have done other things or done nothing at all but I chose this path. There was a point during treatment that I wanted to quit and just surrender to it all. Then I realize how painful it would be for my wife and others that I knew.

I couldn’t do that. When I got sober my only goal was to never knowingly hurt another human being. By not doing treatment I would have hurt many people, who would have had to sit back and watch me die. I’m still going to die someday but these same people will be able to look back and see that I did everything in my power to live life to the fullest with this second chance that has been given to me…

A Message Delivered

A Message Delivered

laying in a field of grass
in the darkness
I stare at the sky
away from man made lights
the heavens seem so close
I don’t have to reach out
the stars touch me

easily falling into a trance
only broken by the sounds of crickets
away from the roads
and the traffic of the cities
unexpectedly… I’ve stumbled
into my own paradise
surrounded… by Peace

in the stillness
comfort comes quickly
through a message of Hope… and Love
all through the night
like shooting stars
the messages keep flowing

a transformation takes place
where Peace, Hope, and Love
become One…
and I was graced to witness it
in the horizon… the sky turned red
as the sun filled the sky
I realized that darkness
began setting a half world away

and I wondered… who
would be the next to receive this message
of Peace, Hope, and Love
and as every day turned to night
and every night turned to day
the message spread…
until Love conquered hate

A Wedding, Immigration, and Cancer

Just 12 days short of my first anniversary from heart surgery I got married to my wonderful British girlfriend, Karen. It was also the day before I celebrated my 21^st year of sobriety. We got married in the Presbyterian Church, which is the American branch of the Church of Scotland. Kind of fitting since I am a member of the Episcopalian Church, which is the American branch of the Church of England. In the corner of the church was an American flag, nope we didn’t have a flag of the United Kingdom anywhere.

It was a very small wedding, yet it was beautiful and perfect. By the end of the day, complete strangers were friends and the next day we heard from a couple of people how they wished all weddings were like that.

The same day we got married, we went with the vicar to the courthouse and got all the paperwork done and had everything in our hands right away. Karen would take this proof with her back to England and would start the process for me to move to England.

It was a process that we had no idea how long it would take. We knew for non-Europeans wanting to immigrate to the United Kingdom was an uphill climb. One that you had to make sure that all the “t’s” were crossed and all the “i’s” were dotted. There was no way we could have handled it on our own. The reality was that there was no way Karen could handle it all. It was unfair of me to dump it all on her, but there was no other way. She lived in England while I was over 5,000 miles away.

The best thing we did to make sure we could be together was to hire an attorney to do the paperwork for us. It may have cost us some money, but the stress and worries it saved us was well worth it.

Three months after our wedding and just over a year since heart surgery, I was granted a visa to live and work in the United Kingdom and I started my new life, in a new country on 1 January 2016. I was so happy and also relieved when I moved.

Before my health scare, I knew something wasn’t right but I had no idea what could be wrong. So, after everything happened and everything was fixed, I felt comfortable with the move. Not because of my health, rather because I wasn’t bringing illness into our new life together.

Sadly, within ten months of living in England, I was diagnosed with mouth cancer. As much as I wanted to protect Karen from my past health issues, there was nothing I could do to protect her from this happening. What I could do though, was to make it as least painful as possible. That meant doing everything doctors wanted me to do and to be active in every procedure I had to take.

Admittedly, I hated and feared a lot of it and even wanted to quit but I made it through and today I am cancer-free with a strong heart. Today, my wife looks at me and knows how much fight I have in me, not just for my life but for ours as a couple...

Quit Being A Victim

What does a provocative photo of a naked woman have to do with being a victim? Let’s face it, when you are a victim you are exposed. There are some, what I would call – real victims. People who are stalked are real victims, yet many of them don’t like the title of being a victim.

The victims I have trouble with are the ones who make themselves victims. An example, a person who neglects his job and eventually gets a good ass chewing from the boss. They feel like they’ve been abused, when in reality, they are lucky they still have a job. A butt chewing is still better than losing your job. And besides, if that person was doing their job would they have been yelled at in the first place?

What about the person who always complains about aches and pains. They whine to whoever will listen, yet they don’t go to a doctor. Their excuse is they can’t miss work and don’t have the money to see a doctor. So in the long run, if the aches and pains are real, they end up missing work sooner or later because they’ll be to sick. It won’t be for a day or two, probably a week, all because they said they couldn’t afford to see a doctor. Then comes the other point… why can’t they afford a doctor? Yes, I know doctors cost an arm and a leg in America, but if they are working, than they’ll have insurance to help with the cost.

What about the victim who is always looking for a job, yet is too busy to work? They go to job interviews knowing they have no chance of being hired. They have no work experience, yet they seem to think they will fit in with upper management. Then someone mentions them to their boss for a lower level job and the person sits at home waiting for a phone call. A phone call that never comes because this victim believes management should follow through with the contact and all they have to do is wait for them.

These victims take course after course in different fields improving their resume’ yet they still have no work experience. They take course in computer graphics, art classes, psychology courses, and other odd things, yet they haven’t worked in ten years. Why not be real and apply for a job stocking shelves in a grocery store and show future employers that you can make it to work everyday for a year? It may not be the job you want, but it is a job. It is a job that pays you for your work. It is not a benefit from the government for you to stay home and try and make people believe you are getting a job.

I just shake my head at people who have everything planned… from having their plans for how much money will be needed to travel back and forth to work, but can’t take the time to actually fill out a job application. I shake my head at people who when they do fill out an application, they need to have someone go to the interview with them. It gives them an excuse for not getting the job. Forever they stay the victim.

What is truly comical is the person (this is a fact) that doesn’t have a job, yet needs a house cleaner to do the dishes and wash their clothes because they will be getting a job.

I apologize for the tone of this ramble, but it does piss me off how some people love being a victim. The last three years I have had major life threatening medical issues, yet have only missed work for three months. After heart surgery, I cooked my own meals and washed my dishes and did my laundry all by myself. After cancer, I was walking a mile within two weeks and washed dishes every night.

Did I feel like doing these things? Truth be told – NO. Yet I needed to do them. I needed to regain my strength and needed to find my self-worth. The other day I needed to get a taxi. I knew the driver from previous trips and he made the comment how much I have changed in the last three months. He said I looked strong and healthy.

I refuse to be a victim. I am more than cancer. I am more than my heart disease. I am a spiritual being living as a human being and as such my existence can not and will not be a victim.

Getting my hands dirty!!!

I got my hands dirty last week. Oh no, I didn’t break any laws or got myself in trouble with any moral majority. No, I got my hands dirty the old fashion way. Wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt, my hands grasped a shovel for the first time in seven years and I played in a garden. Moving dirt around, getting rid of weeds, and getting the earth ready for some planting.

The one thing I have learned in the seven years away from gardening is that it is a lot of work IF we make it that way. I see people with vegetable gardens, spending endless hours weeding their little plots and making it look so good, yet I never see them enjoying it.

I like gardening but I don’t like the work, which is why I’ll probably never have another vegetable garden. I want to enjoy the fruits of my labour. I want to see the early bulbs pop up and see the tulips bloom. I want to see the azaleas come to life with all their glorious colours.

A strange thing about azaleas. I grew up in New Jersey and in our front yard were two rather huge azalea bushes. Every spring they would come to life with their bright vibrant colours. They were always a popular choice for gardens, not just in our yard but many yards in New Jersey.

When I moved to the plains. First, in South Dakota and then to Nebraska, no one had ever heard of azalea’s. Because of the frost lines, it was impossible to keep an azalea alive in those barren winter lands. Yet, go further north, on an island in the Atlantic and azalea’s flourish. That’s right, they grow quite well in England. The way the jet stream goes, nasty winter weather never makes it to England. Don’t get me wrong, England isn’t a hidden Hawaiian paradise, yet winters here are quite comfortable with very little or no snow and green grass year round.

Whoops, starting to drift here. Back to gardening. I enjoy seeing these plants and shrubs grow and provide wonderful colours and unexpected wildlife. There is nothing that can compare after a hard days work, going home and seeing all the life that shrubs bring with just the simplest of care.

When I started thinking about this little garden of ours, I started thinking about waterfalls and goldfish but right now, I think I’ll just keep it simple for awhile and let it grow. Let’s see what the garden wants to do before I tell it what I want it to do.

Inconceivable Denial

Sometimes we can't deny what has happened.  No matter how hard we try, the truth remains.  By denying  this fact, we can't find an end and with no end we can't find a new beginning.

 

Inconceivable Denial

can’t look away
can’t walk away
but… that’s all it can be
its inconceivable
everything that has
passed us by

but I wonder
what would happen
if… just if…
we had just one day
death… or life
who’s to judge

it would be a future
where no one
could venture safely
and hearts would be
broken… as well as healed
it’s a lonely world

where right and wrong
would become one
so night and day
would no longer matter
and the end… would be…
a new beginning to…
a new end…

Year one ends with cancer

My first year in England is nearing an end in a fashion I didn’t really want. It was two years ago, that I was leaving a hospital for the last time before I returned to work. In no time at all I regained my strength and the depression of hospitals and clinics left me.

Now instead of returning to work I am leaving work. And instead of being out of work for two months, I’ll be unemployed for at least three months. And for the first time in my life, I’ll go from caretaker to patient.

Two years ago, when I got sick and was told something is wrong, my worst fear was that it was cancer. In fact one of the reasons I avoided doctors for so long was that fear. I almost felt a sense of excitement and relief when I found out it was my heart and not cancer. That’s right. I was happy to learn my heart was the problem and it wasn’t cancer.

Fast forward two years, my heart is strong and healthy. My stamina and endurance is back, but now I have been diagnosed with cancer. Cancer of the tonsil… a form of throat cancer. Actually, it couldn’t happen in a better way.

My heart surgery showed me how strong I was mentally and how I could cope on my own, with keeping appointments and managing my medications. When I first left the hospital I was taking over a dozen different medications that were given at different times of the day and night.

I also have witnessed what cancer can do to others, so I feel halfway prepared for what lies ahead. The good news about it is that the cancer was caught early. The oncologist said, “there is no evidence that it has spread.” So, while I’ll have chemo, once a week for seven weeks, it won’t be as bad as it could have been. And during this time I’ll also be having six weeks of radiation therapy.

A new adventure in my life. One that I have said in the past that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy is now part of my life. The advantage for me, which at times makes me very grateful and other times makes me feel sad, is that I won’t be doing this on my own.

I have a strong wife, who already has shown her talents for being a great caretaker. Besides being loving and concerned, she is showing her ability to be strong and strict and not letting me become a victim.

All in all, a new walk in my life. A new challenge and a new adventure. One I wish I didn’t have to experience but now that it is upon me I’ll attack it with all I got and defeat it. Cancer may be in me, it may be a part of me, but it will never be me.

The end of a fantasy

When I decided to move to England, I realized that I finally was burying a dream that I had for over 30 years. That dream was for my family, my brothers and myself, to be reunited. I thought about it for quite awhile and I came to the conclusion that reunification was never going to happen.

All of us had spent our entire lives in America and nothing to date has brought us together… so why did I have a dream that we could some day become a close family? This was the ultimate delusional fantasy of mine.

I spent over 20 years living in Nebraska and I had brothers travel through the state and relatively close to where I lived, yet they couldn’t find the time to stop in for a visit. In fact, during a phone call that took place over a decade ago, my one brother even said that, “We didn’t have the time.” So my time is worth less… so I am worth less… I am worthless.

These are the feelings I have had with my brothers for a majority of my life. Sadly, this defined most of my life. My self-destructive behaviours. My anti-social habits from alcohol and drugs which brought me comfort for many years until finally it too couldn’t bury the pain within.

So, I packed my bags and moved to England. I left behind a daughter, a couple of step-kids, four grandchildren, numerous friends and little else. I didn’t feel any guilt or homesickness when it came to leaving my brothers, their wives, and their children. The fact is, I didn’t know any of them.

Out of my three brothers, I could say I was close to one. I use the word “close” very loosely. I have met his two daughters. Once when they were 5 to 7 years old and then when they were in their 20s. This “close” brother I had seen twice in the last 30 years.

It only took eight months of me living in England to see that this dream died forever. My oldest brother, Mike, passed away at the age of 69. It did bother me… it did affect me… but not to the point where my life stopped.

What hurt the most was that I had no idea who my brother was. I had no idea what kind of husband he was or what kind of dad was he to his two sons? With that said, I really don’t need to know the answer. I wasn’t a part of his life for over 30 years why try and act like it was something different?

I did have one final e-mail from him shortly before I left America. I never opened it… that is… until he was dead. It amazed me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t responding like my older brother, instead he spoke like a person who understood where I came from and he even apologized for not doing anything to help me as a child. To help me get away from the terror that was our parents.

I didn’t even feel any guilt for not opening that e-mail sooner. Those last eight months of Mike’s life, he probably wondered what I thought of that note and why I never answered it. To me, it worked out exactly the way our Higher Powers wanted it to. I spent most of my life, chasing my brothers waiting for some kind of recognition. Mike spent his last eight month’s waiting for a reply that never came.

I believe Mike was in a part of his life where he wanted to make amends, to rebuild bridges, and maybe somehow my dream became his as well. While reunification between myself and my three brothers will never take place in this lifetime, there is still hope for the next life.

I didn’t go to the funeral… I could of went. I flown across the pond enough to know that I could have been there the day before the funeral and pay my final respects… but why? Again, we had no life together when he was alive, so I’m not going to pretend it was all good just because he died.

Without my presence, reunification couldn’t even take place during death… and I feel really good and at peace with that. The 26^th of October 1980, will live forever in our family history. It was the last time all four of us brothers were together at the same time. The reason? My dad’s funeral. Just two months short of 36 years, that Mike, Ray, Rich, and Dave walked together.

RIP Mike