Sunday, December 19, 2010

Old Friends, Good Times...

12/19/2010

I am not one to look back.  I believe fully in living in “The Now.” That doesn’t mean I don’t take a nostalgia trip occasionally.  Anyone who has read my stuff knows I have memories meaningful to me of which I sometimes write.  I cannot help remember, but believe me, I do not dwell on the past.  Yesterday The Nancy and I got to relive some old times, some really special times. 

In the fall of 2000, not long after The Nancy moved to Charlestown, West Virginia, we wandered over to Shepherdstown, WV, about fifteen miles away, just to check it out.  As we meandered along German Street, the main drag, we came upon Ed’s Deli and Tap Room.  We walked into the little shop that measured maybe 16 feet wide to find a cooler full of a number of beers from many different micro-breweries and a display case full of deli meats and cheeses.  As we walked around the store, we discovered, much to my delight, a backroom with a small bar made out of wood that looked as if it had been part of an old barn, with maybe eight stools and five or six taps with some really good beers.  Ed’s motto of “No Crap on Tap” was beautiful music to my ears.  The food was good, the cheeses sublime, the beers were outstanding, but what made Ed’s Ed’s was the people that worked there.

Mary Beth was Ed’s wife.  A sub motto at Ed’s, if there is such a thing, was “Redheads Welcome.” Mary Beth has red hair.  Ed, on the other hand, was Ed.  I like the guy, but knew almost from the start Ed was in no way ever to be identified with the term “hard worker,” but he did lend his name to the enterprise, and that was enough for me.  I loved the place.

The Nancy and I became frequent visitors to Ed’s and frequented it about once a week from our first visit until it closed about 2003.  During that time we absolutely fell in love with the staff.  Over the years since, we have maintained a friendly relationship with Mary Beth, Ed, Anna and Dianne.  Anna and Dianne were bartenders at Ed’s, and both of them worked at Ed’s while attending classes at Shepherdstown University.  Anna and Dianne made Ed’s Ed’s.

Mary Beth has gone on to manage other restaurant establishments in Shepherdstown.  Anna is in her final year of medical school, and Dianne got her masters in social work and works with disadvantaged kids.  We are proud to call all of them friends, and more than proud of the who and what they have become.  Truth be known, we are in love with them.

Yesterday we met the three of them and another friend at Lot 12 for dinner and then brought them all to our home for a “slumber party” of sorts, for want of another descriptor.  I cannot tell you when I have had more fun.  This was a nostalgia trip to end them all.  We had a total blast with these gals, they are a hoot.

Mary Beth and Dianne know our friends who are the proprietors of Lot 12.  It was fun was see them interact and to catch up.  Dinner was typical Lot 12, spectacular.  After dinner we all came back to The Farm, built a raging fire, and I listened to these girls talk of their glory days at Ed’s.  I laughed until jaw hurt, and a little after midnight I retired to my bed and allowed the five ladies to share more stories.

They all left us this morning after allowing me to fix them a good old country breakfast of scrambles eggs with herbs and Brie, fried apples, home fries, sausage gravy and biscuits.  I fueled them up and sent them on their way loving them all the more.

Recently, I lost a friend to heart disease.  I made myself a promise to never hold back on a friend.  From this point on in my life I will make sure each and everyone knows I love them, if that is how I feel.  Since I feel that way about nearly everyone I know, the rest of my life will be a regular love fest. 

Loving people makes this “The Best Day Ever.”

And that is all I have to say about that…

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Looking Forward to #7...

12/12/2010

Looking back, I have always looked forward to some events - some grand and some not so grand. 

I have always looked forward to certain holidays like Christmas, Easter and the Fourth of July.  Christmas when I was a kid was truly something special.  Having been raised by a couple of devout Methodists, the Christmas celebration was centered on the true meaning of the season with some Santa thrown in as an extra special perk.  Easter, too, came with great anticipation.  It was a day filled with lots and lots of goodies, and then we went church, but it didn’t spoil anything, we sneaked candy into our pockets to munch on while some dude in the pulpit talked over our heads.  Memorial Day is close to my heart, especially since beginning my relationship with The Nancy.  Grafton, WV, the childhood home of The Nancy, has a Memorial Day parade we look forward to attending.  It makes the day special.  And the Fourth of July generally meant a day with family or even maybe a day at the beach or on a picnic.  I look forward to lots of things, except, that is, if what is to come is not so good.

My #7 may just fall into that “not-so-good” category.  My #7 is a colonoscopy.  My #7 is coming on Tuesday.

Inasmuch as I have done this six times already, this really isn’t a big deal.  I don’t mind the procedure at all.  The worst part of the procedure is the hospital gown, which for some reason I always put on backwards.  It just seems logical to me the opening is to be in the front.  I am a guy, for crying out loud, I have to have unlimited access.  You might think I am nuts, but since the doctor shoots me up with some concoction allowing him to insert a six-foot scope into my lower intestine, up through my body and God only knows how or where, I don’t feel it at all, so I am more than happy.  I go to sleep before and wake up after it is all done.  Perfect!

It is the prep that I hate about this whole deal.  It consists of a “high colonic” of the worst kind.  I have just returned from Rite Aid where I purchased about four pounds of MiraLax and about what looks like a half gallon of Magnesium Citrate that is to clean me out to the point a fart will sound like high pitched violin note.  There will be nothing left in there to retard anything going in or coming out.  I am talking clean here.

The good thing about the prep is that I will not be eating tomorrow: I will consider it a weight loss day.  It is a clear liquid day, and this doctor does not consider beer to be on the list of approved liquids.  I was also admonished not to consume anything red in color; and definitely no corn for at least a week before the colonoscopy.  I am not sure what my doc has against corn?  Personally, I love the stuff.

On the serious side of this, I am a huge proponent of this examination.  Four of my friends have succumbed to the ravages of this terrible cancer.  It is just too simple of a cancer to detect and to treat, and this simple test is simply just not anything someone age 50 or with a family history of colon issues should ever consider not getting.  Consider this my pontification of the day – get the damn thing done.

Even though I do not consider this test to be egregious, those you who have enjoyed this, and also those of you who have not, may understand why I am looking forward to Wednesday.

And that is all I have to say about that…

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Did You Know Sylvester?

12/11/2010

I first met this beautiful man on November 18, 2004 in Dallas, Texas at the first of the three Millennium workshops we did together.  Sly, as we all new him at that moment, was very quiet, a little withdrawn, it seemed, not smiling, somewhat wary of what he had gotten himself into, much like the rest of the seventy-plus of us.

Sly Garcia was a handsome figure, very Latin – jet-black hair, damn good looks, and a beautiful smile that lit up the room.  Sly was the quiet one and when he did speak, he spoke is a low, soft voice.  He was quick witted, and quite intelligent.

As time went on, I fell in love with him.  Without divulging any of the Millennium secrets, Sly and I did do some exercises together.  He was “A Powerful, Passionate, Loving Man,” and as we completed the Millennium series, he was the epitome of that description.  It was also that about that time Sly, who didn’t really care a whole lot for his parent’s selection of a name for him, became more comfortable being “Sylvester” rather than “Sly.”

In our last conversation Sylvester told me he was about to undergo bypass surgery.  He had had one heart attack that I was aware of, and apparently other heart related issues, too.  The bypass surgery was to correct the problem and prolong his life.  He had said he wanted to live for his grandson.

I found out yesterday Sylvester did not make.  He had passed away.  His heart was just too weak.

I was driving home from Columbus, Ohio when a friend in Dallas passed the word to me.  I was in tears as she gave me the news.  I called another friend in Albuquerque to let him know, and he and I cried as we spoke of this man and what he meant to us.  It was as if we had lost a brother or a son.

My friend Sylvester will be missed, the world has lost one of the good ones.  I am so very glad he and I got to talk.  I did not suspect for one second this surgery would end his life.  And as the cliché goes, “I know he is in a better place.” What makes feel good, and what I will cling to the times I remember my friend Sylvester is that in our last conversation I got to tell him how much I loved him.

In the past I have written about not missing a chance to tell the people you love how you feel.  You never know when a death might occur and that opportunity will be lost to you and you will regret for ever.  Don’t let it happen.

And that is all I have to say about that…