Something That Happened.

This is

Stories by Harold, in a variety of formats - including text, audio, video, and podcasts.

Featuring several years of
quality archived content!
Expand/Collapse archive

Read an example archived post now!
Expand/collapse example

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Regrets...
I've had a few.
But then again,
Too few to mention!
--"My Way",
written by Paul Anka
When I hear that song, I think of Frank Sinatra, and sometimes Elvis or Sid Vicious -- all of whom have been known to perform, in their own unique manner, that wonderful song. Wonderful because -- though I don't always enjoy hearing it, I've heard it so much -- the song is a wonderful personal anthem. That's something we all need: a personal anthem. A song that praises our individuality; a mark of devotion to oneself. After all, they say you're going to have a helluva time loving anyone else unless you've first learned to love yourself, right?

This is not to replace your love for your God, or your spouse, or your family. I'm simply saying that we all need to give ourselves a bit more self-love at this time of year. (No, not that type of self-love !) Too many of us beat up on ourselves throughout the year, and then nearly destroy ourselves at year's end. No wonder there are so many suicides during the Holidays; the messages bombarding us are to Buy Buy Buy and to Give Give Give -- but what if you have nothing to give but love? If you have a dearth of that good stuff, then you'll have a bitch of a time spreading it around to your neighbors.

So be good to yourself, whether you're Christian, Pagan, Wiccan, Athiest, Hindu, Islamic, Mormon, Podcastin, or otherwise. Don't take the pills, they won't do you or anyone else any good; you'll simply miss out on the Next Big Thing (which may turn out to be Your Next Big Thing). Just do things your own way, singing that little hymn as you do so:
For what is a man,
What has he got?
If not himself,
Then he has naught.
To say the things,
He truly feels,
And not the words,
Of one who kneels.
The record shows,
I took the blows
And did it my way!

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Another phonecall from the nursing home, the third call this week informing me that my mother is a maniac, tearing up and down the halls day and night, scratching and hitting and screaming, smacking eyeglasses off faces, sweeping paperwork off desks - disturbing everything and throwing the facility off balance, more Yang than Yin in the Tao of the place now because of this one reckless new tenant.

With each incident the staff consults a psychiatrist and more medication is inevitably prescribed; then, as required, a voice on the phone informs me of the changes in mom's behavior and medication, emphasizing the necessity of the meds by describing the new scratches on mom's face, battle scars from her latest combat. Mom's so doped up now she's probably dizzy, the voice on the phone says, yet she stills waltzes the halls, her will never completely vanquished. It is difficult for me to imagine, mom in this state, because she's never been quite so violent around me - a little touchy at times but never outright terrorizing. Not that I don't believe the nursing home; I believe that mom's capable of terror when I'm not around, but it's still difficult to accept: my 54-year-old mom, demented and furious in a nursing home, Jack Torrance without a baseball bat but with boobs.

The voice on the phone says mom is milling about the nurse's station a few feet from the phone, so I ask to speak with her. Hi mom, I say, I love you and she replies Oh! I love you too and I ask How are you getting along? (and I feel cruel and ridiculous for asking this) and mom begins to reply, but something violent happens on her end of the line, some disruption that steals her away from me. I hear a scuffle, followed by an Oh my God! and several other voices in conflict and shouting and trying to restore order, the sounds of objects or bodies crashing to the floor and a nursing staff momentarily in disarray. Eventually a voice returns to the phone, this time a different voice than before, quietly announcing that mom has struck, with the phone, the nurse-on-charge. Now they will place mom in (what sounds to be) a Jerry Bed, and I have no idea what that is.
posted by Harold  6/17/2004 12:46:00 PM
Comments: Post a Comment



Links to this post:

Create a Link



<< Home

Businesses in Huntsville, Alabama

*

I once posted, in this space (this right column), the following:

If I had friends they would be listed here

That particular bit o' text, that silly and idiotic phrase, was repeated a dozen or two dozen or so times and was intended to be temporary. I had been working on a project -- a new layout for this blog -- and had intended for that text to be placeholder content. That is, the text was supposed to temporarily replace the content that had previously occupied this column (which was a list of links to friends -- that is, other blogs and web sites I linked to). I didn't know what content I was going to place into that (this) space, so I placed a bunch of duplicate phrases here as a placeholder so that I would remember to fill in this space again later.

At the same time, I thought I was being cute with the heading:

NEW & IMPROVED FRIENDS!

The fact remains: I still don't know what content to put here, in this column. Links again? Pictures? Video? Audio? Ads? Oh, hell no! It hasn't come to me yet, but I'm sure it will eventually, and when it does it'll come quick and (as usual) with consequences.