I am just your typical ex long-haired (as of 2005) Christian (as of 1998) Catholic (as of 2006) who gets paid to harass people (Sales Rep), and who craving even more public embarrassment, decided to start a blog . . .plus what guy doesn't want to say "blog"? BLOG, BLOG, Bloggin' Blog!
Anyhoo, this is just a little exercise to help me avoid exercise...and to maybe learn to write a tad better along the way.
These wacky blog Posts are just my own thoughts, and I alone should be judged, and or condemned, by the content.
As I have noted on a few posts, I had rather long hair for the majority of my life (from the time I first saw the Partridge Family until just before I was received into the Church). This attribute gave me a small glimpse into what it is like to be profiled by the police, as there were numerous times I was pulled over for DWLH (driving while long haired), mostly without much drama, although once I did have guns pulled on me, yet another time I think the dude thought I was a chick and wanted to hit on me (something that does happen to a lot of young ladies I have been told).
The time that I could have been shot was in truth my fault, although it wasn’t until I was driving away that it all made sense. My 20 something still an atheist self was seeing a girl in Virginia, and we alternated weekends between my place in Baltimore and hers in Arlington, with me usually staying until early Monday morning and then driving to my bricklaying job from Virginia. A neighbor must have seem some long haired guy leaving the condo complex at 4:30 am with a duffle bag and assumed I was a bad guy. Driving only a few miles and I was pulled over, without the knowledge of why, or aware that I was supposed to stay in my vehicle, I got out only to see both officers pull their weapons and tell me to put my hands on the truck. I apologized for not knowing the “pulled over”etiquette and explained The Who-why-where’s as the one officer searched my truck and bag. They told me that had a report of a possible theft by someone fitting my description and then reminded me again to always sty in the car until asked. They had been super aggressive at first, and turned quite nice and helpful after they “got the facts”.
My most memorable pullover, mainly because of the lesson I received, was when I was just about 30. Finished up a DJ gig one Saturday night near York, and was making my way back to 83 when I accidentally ended up on a One way street, something that did not go unnoticed by the uniformed man in the squad car. This officer, or so I thought, was the opposite of Andy Griffith, and was more than a little intimidating and stern. He could see in my Jeep all the sound equipment, which to a non-DJ could easily look like I just robbed a house or store. Luckily I had my info sheet on the front seat, and handed It to him with my license and registration. He checked out my information, called it in, and then asked me some music questions to gauge my DJ knowledge. Convinced I wasn’t a criminal, or at least not currently committing any criminal acts, he gave me directions to 83 and suggested I not go up any more one way streets.
Still shaken by this, especially as this guy was all business, I started to head back to Baltimore, but stopped at a 7/11 just before the entrance to the highway. I grabbed a Diet Mountain Dew for the road and as I was about to pay I heard “let me get that Mr DJ” and it was the tough cop, except he had a big smile on his face and I was now more worried he might hug me than arrest me. He bought my soda, wished me a safe trip and even said God bless.
On my way home I had the time to think about that situation, and how it’s most likely safer for police to be intimidating at first, and how it might be for many just an act they put on - being the alpha male as not to have problems. Eh, what do I know, but that being a cop, especially now, is a very hard job.
While I still wish most days that the cancer would come back and finish the job, it is more that there is little reason for my feeble existence and that I am so obviously out of place on this decaying rock, than the fact I am unhappy with life.
Finishing up a sales call the other day the contractor noticed my cane (I do my best to hide it from my boss and clients), and asked me why I had it. It seems he is going through some health issues dealing with not one, but two, helicopter crashes he was involved in while serving our country.
I thanked him for his sacrifice, and told him about my PLS, my false ALS scare, and the cancer that I should have let end me. His condition was a mass that had grown, is growing, around his spine, and that there is a chance the operation may leave him paralyzed, and that if so he’d put a bullet in his head.
“So you have no family?, I see a wedding ring”
“Yeah, wife and 2 kids, and 2 more from my first marriage” he replied
“So that their father and husband was a pussy - that’s the legacy you want to leave them?”
At this point I kinda thought this marine was gonna deck me.
But he just replied “no” and spoke of all the things he wouldn’t be able to do, with me replying “me neither” to many of his complaints.
“How much more would your family and friends respect a man who fights through all those things”
I then said two things (maybe should have said more)
You need to go volunteer at the V.A, and work with guys like you , but who don’t even have a home.
And, would you mind if I prayed for you?
Both seemed to humble him a bit, as they did me, and I do pray he finds strength to be an amazing example for those around him, and if anyone reads this, would you please pray for him too.
Yes, I also realize that this was a bit of the Holy Spirit speaking as much through me, as to me.
While I know that the HPV cancer was my punishment and/or penance for not remaining chaste many years ago when I was engaged, it doesn’t stop me from being a lil’ angry at a God who seems to like to kick me when I’m down . . . Kick, punch, spit on . . . It’s obvious He doesn’t like this worthless ol’ butthead, as I feel like the mouse the cat spends all day slowly ripping apart instead of killing outright.
But in any family, it’s nice to have a Mother who’s always their to listen and comfort, especially when we aren’t on speaking terms with our dad or siblings. Mom might not be able to change dad’s punishment/anger, but she’s there to stop the crying after we get back from the wood shed. Even on the days it feels God’s ears are As deaf as He made my own mother’s , I still know Mary is listening, and hopefully asking for clemency.
This new perspective, and added, unorthodox, reason to be thankful for Christ’s gift of a new mother almost makes it worth the hell I am enduring.
I don’t blame God for His contempt for me, as it is one of the few universal opinions I agree with, but I still can’t forgive Him for not allowing me to die. . .for this continued cable TV version of JOB.
. The media or Hollywood or this talking head or that - demands change in the church, but they do not understand that we are the church of change!
Through the church a sinner can change into a Saint, changes one who takes into one who gives, through the church
the hopeless change into the hopeful and through the church the
unlovable change into the loved.
For we ARE the church of change, but they are the church of trend. .
. Will be creating a NEW blog to focus completely on, what I hope is, God's mission for me now, to show the extensive damage which has come from our contraceptive culture.
The cancer was caused by HPV, a virus that even my doctors make the defeatist comment "oh, everyone has it by now" instead of maybe actually admitting that casual sex is a lie straight outta hell. Sure the docs and media want folks to get a vaccination, because it is unimaginable to them that people live lives of chastity, even though it was only fifty years ago we could count the number of STDs on one hand, whereas now there are over 30. Not only do I have to wonder now if the cancer will return, but also which of my friends or family will be the next to go through this.
have mentioned the medieval torture device I get to wear as I am
strapped down for 10 minutes during treatment 5 days a week, and my
bizarre notion to want to not only keep it, but turn it into art and
the chemo causes me to have a bit of insomnia, which
has actually produced some pretty clever ideas , with one being the
"how" of decorating this thing which is, God willing, saving my life.
I am going to take photos of all the incredibly wonderful staff who has
been part of my treatment and then decoupage the photos onto the
masque. So instead of the torture device, I will see, and can remember
to pray for, the folks who have given me such great and compassionate
. I whined about my notso great day yesterday when I should have been lifting up that suffering and appreciating the good I saw.
One of my favorite club members got to ring the Last Day Bell, and his
whole family came to watch. I am actually gonna miss seeing him, but yet
so happy I won't and glad he's home and starting the recovery (even
after treatment the effects can last a month or more, and one woman told
me her taste took a year to return . . . 'course I said "I'm from Balwmer, so I aint never had any taste (O: )
Then before I left Hopkins, after being their for 8 hours, I met a
quiet couple about my age, the women looking pretty worn down, and I
while I usually chat folks up I left them alone. When the wife went to
the rest room I just starting a chat with the husband about where they
are from and thank God it's the weekend.
He talked for a while
and I even saw him smile a little, but then he told me that they said he
will soon be losing his wife of 24 years. I merely said I was truly
sorry. His wife came back and they left, with my horrific day put very
much into perspective.
While I of course immediately started to
pray for them, I didn't tell them I would, I was too worried about
offending them that I didn't say that simple little phrase I normal
spout " "if you don't mind, I will be praying for you"
and I hope some of you will take a knee for them now.
If you pray for me, be it a prayer that I will be His light as much as
possible when I am there . . .I can suffer, I can go through all this
crap, but I just need help is the strength to stop being a whiny lil'
wimp and instead carry that Love that I have so undeservedly been giving
to everyone I meet.
thanks and God bless! .
“If only mortals would learn how great it is to possess divine grace,
how beautiful, how noble, how precious. How many riches it hides within
itself, how many joys and delights!
Without doubt they would devote all
their care and concern to winning for themselves pains and afflictions.
All men throughout the world would seek trouble, infirmities and
torments, instead of good fortune, in order to attain the unfathomable
treasure of grace.
This is the reward and the final gain of patience.
one would complain about his cross or about troubles that may happen to
him, if he would come to know the scales on which they are weighed when
they are distributed to men."
Saint Rose of Lima .