Rant #3,717: I Want To Take You Higher

I completed everything that I had to do, and i thought Thursday would be a quiet day--

But it wasn't.

I was on the phone for about three hours, with my aunt, my sister, and with my dental insurer, which, over the months my son and I have have been covered by them, has given us nothing but trouble related to bill payment (don't ask).

But at least i had the normal flow of work and other things to do, so I wouid rather have the time to touch base with my sister and aunt than to do hours and hours of typing.

(The stuff with the dental insurer I can completely live without.)

And I texted with my daughter--

Will wonders never cease!

Anyway, as you are reading this, it is Friday the 13th, i am at the doctor for yet another examination, and all the fun continues next week, when I have to bring my car in for an oil change and yearly inspection ... and then later in the week, I have to go to yet another doctor.

But during this past week, we lost Sly Stone first, and then Brian Wilson.

I am going to talk about Wilson first.

Personally, I don't think I truly got the Beach Boys until I was older.

I thought a lot of their music was wimpy, but as I got older, i understood the lyrics and themes a bit more, and I became a fan.

Those songs evoke summer, but if you got Wilson's music, you know that he was writing these songs almost in third person.

He wasnt a surfer, wasnt popular with California girls, and this all forced him to look elsewhere, "God Only Knows."

But if you were looking for a soundtrack of the 1960s, you must at least include, if not fully turn to, Wilson's Beach Boys songs as a template for that era.

And whether as a participant or in third person, he "got" summer--

As did Sylvester Stewart, who i think was the complete opppsite of Wilson; as he actually lived the summer, and it showed in his music--

Such as "Hot Fun in the Summertime," one of the great seasonal anthems.

But Sly was more than that.

He mixed rock, soul, rhythm and blues, jazz and gospel and created funk, and during their short period of prominence, Sly and the Family Stone were "IT"--nobody looked like them or sounded like them.

I have a personal recollection related to Sly ... or was it Walt?

The story is that both Sly's girlfriend at the time, and Walt Frazier's girlfriend, lived in my old neighborhood,  Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, New York, about 1969-1970 or so. 

I remember that word got around quickly that one of them would be picking up his girlfriend in Rochdale in his Rolls Royce. 

We went over to Section 5, I think it was, the Rolls Royce came, the girl was picked up, and the car drove away, with a bunch of us stupid kids running behind the car until it took off. 

Again, I don't know if it was Sly or Walt, but I was one of those stupid kids. 

Great memory.

Both were troubled souls, wasting their gifts on drugs and later, mental illness.

But i would rather think of the good times 

Brian and Sly are now creating new masterworks in heaven, but what they left behind ...

WOW!

Have a great weekend, and i will speak to you again on Monday--

And Happy Father's Day!

Rant #3,716: All I Can Take

Sorry, I am just so busy with my work obligations that we are going to have to go the "reading Rant" way again.

Thanks for bearing with me through this horror show.

30

With his new-found confidence and exuberance, Abraham Lincoln Panim decided to take a walk that evening, a walk like he had taken many times before. But with his physical change, this was going to be a walk like no other.

He got up from his bed, put on his jacket, and wrapped his scarf around his neck, but not on his face. He also stuffed the mirror into his pocket, and then he walked to his mother’s bedroom.

“Mom, I’m taking a walk,” he yelled through his mother’s still-closed bedroom door. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Mrs. Panim heard her son this time, and said, “Take that walk, and maybe it will help you think!” she screamed back.

He walked outside the house, letting the door close by itself behind him. He entered the fresh air with a big smile on his face, and he began to walk with a cadence that he hadn’t ever remembered that he had in previous walks with himself and his mother.

It was turning to evening, and there was barely enough natural light to use as the street lights popped on, illuminating the area of his walk, which led to the nearby park, as his walks always did.

“Why aren’t people stopping and admiring me?” he said, but while it wasn’t completely dark, it wasn’t as light as it was during the day. “I guess it is too dark for people to admire me,” he thought.

Abraham Lincoln Panim walked his usual walk, and he went by a few other people walking in the park, and a few did, in fact, stop to look at him, some young girls and some older women. He knew they were looking at him, and almost instinctively moved his scarf even further down his neck so it would expose more of his face to everyone.

He reached the point where he normally stopped, sat on the same bench that he had sat on many times before, and took in the night air as people passed him going both ways. Some stopped to look at him, and he sat up when he knew they were staring.

“I have to give them a full look at my features, so I better sit up straight,” he thought to himself as he moved up on the bench.

Abraham Lincoln Panim sat on the bench for some time, and then he saw in the distance a woman jogging with her dog, and as the woman came closer to him, he saw that it was Ariel and her dog Snuff.

“Ariel, Arilel … it’s Abraham Lincoln Panim … please take a rest,” he said as she came closer to him. “Please … .”

Ariel approached, and guided by her seeing-eye dog, sat down on the bench.

“Hi, Abraham Lincoln Panim,” she said, still taking in her breath from her run. “I am really, really glad to see you.”

“And I am too,” he said, thinking to himself, “If she could really actually see me now!”

“Look, Abraham Lincoln Panim, I really want to apologize for the way you were treated the other day. I am sorry that Brandon screamed at you like that. He told me who you were, and what he was so upset about.”

“So he told you about my rat face?”

“Yes, and I really don’t care about that,” Ariel said. “I mean, I can’t really see anything anyway, and you have a nice speaking voice and you are so kind, that well … look, I am blind. Who am I to say anything about how you look, when I can’t even see you?”

“Well, Ariel, things have changed—“

“Yes, they have changed. After Brandon did what he did, I had a long talk with him, and we are no longer a … a … couple, let’s say. He didn’t take it very well, but we aren’t together anymore.”

A big smile crossed Abraham Lincoln Panim’s face, and he tugged at his scarf. “You mean, he is out of your life?” he asked.

“Yes, we are not together anymore,” Ariel said. “He showed what a big jerk he was when he yelled at you like that. I don’t care if you have a rat face, you seem to be a nice guy. Brandon and I were going together for a short time, and it went both good and bad, but I guess you can say that this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. There was no need for what he did, because all we were doing was talking.”

Abraham Lincoln Panim pushed himself up in the bench. “Look, things have changed—“

“Yes, they sure have,” Ariel said.

“Listen, I am not trying to hit on you or anything, but if you aren’t with Brandon anymore … might you like to … well might you like to go out for coffee maybe … things have changed—“

“Yes, I was hoping that you would say that,” Ariel said. “If you hadn’t asked me, I am pretty sure I would have asked you!”

The two laughed, and the conversation stopped, as Abraham Lincoln Panim sat with a broad smile on his face in the moonlight, and Ariel sat back for a few moments.

Some young girls walked past the bench, and each time, Abraham Lincoln Panim sat up straighter in the bench, as he knew he was being stared at without Ariel even realizing it.

“Boy, a lot of people are walking in the park today,” she said, as she finally got up from the bench and was ready to continue her evening jog.

“Wait, before you go, when can I—“

“How about tomorrow, we meet right here at this exact time? It is where we finally met and spoke anyway, and we can take it from there.”

“OK, Ariel, I will meet you here tomorrow at this exact time.”

“Yes, and don’t forget, Ruff, will also be here, so it will be a threesome!” she said as she started to run away from the bench.

“See you then,” Abraham Lincoln Panim said as Ariel ran off into the distance.

He continued to sit on the bench for a few moments, with his arms stretched out from one side of the bench to the other, and a big smile on his face.

At least this time, when people passed him by and stared at him and giggled, he didn’t respond at all. He had other things on his mind.

Once again, he looked over a few benches, and the older woman was sitting on a bench.

He blinked, and once again, she was gone.

“I must be seeing things,” he said, as he walked home with a happy jaunt that he had never experienced before.

Rant #3,715: Read It and Weep

Well, in addition to everything else I am going through right now, I am smack dab in the middle of writing up these two all-day meetings for work.

And i am already pooped.

So today is going to have to be a "reading Rant," and here is the next chapter of my novel.

Thanks for bearing with me through all this turmoil.

29

Mrs. Panim came home some time after her son had arrived home. She opened the door after reaching into the mailbox to get the mail, just a few  letters, which she put under her arm as she entered her home. 

As Mrs. Panim came in, she put her things on the couch in the living room, and she moved toward the kitchen. She took a drinking glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink tap and sat down, looking very tired and worn out.

“Abraham Lincoln Panim, where are you?” she said in a loud voice. “Come into the kitchen, please.”

Her son was in his room, admiring his features with a hand mirror he found stashed away under the bathroom sink.

“Just a minute,” he said, taking one last look of himself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom and tossing the hand mirror on his bed. He also took his scarf and put it around his face as he had done before, sometimes in his house but not every time.

As he walked out of the room, he put on his scarf, tightening it around his face as he had when he was a rat face.

As he was doing that, he looked at the picture of the smiling Mrs. Stottle that was there. He looked at it, almost seeking approval for what had happened to him.

Abraham Lincoln Panim stared at the picture for a second. “I don’t know, it doesn’t look like her smile is as wide as it was the last time I looked at the picture,” he thought to himself. “I must be so happy that I didn’t see it before.”

He thought nothing more of it, and walked into the kitchen. His mother motioned for him to sit down at the kitchen table.

“I have had a very stressful day, lots of things going on where I was, and I hear that a lot of things were going on at school while I wasn’t there,” Mrs. Panim said to her son.

“What happened—“ said her son, but he could barely get the words out before his mother interrupted him.

“I want to focus on what is happening in school, the other stuff is important, but what is happening in school is what I want to speak to you about,” she said.

“Mom, what is it? I am a little busy—“

“Look, I have some good news for you, so you better listen. When I got back to the school late in the day, I found out that the teacher you are subbing for is going to be out indefinitely, so you are going to lead that class for the foreseeable future. You have done well, and you really earned the spot.”

Abraham Lincoln Panim smiled a broad smile, that could even almost be seen behind the scarf, which was still pulled tightly to his face.

“I am really proud of you, Abraham Lincoln Panim. But as proud of you as I am about this, you are not going to use the school as your personal model runway and show everyone how handsome you are now.”

“How did you find out?” Abraham Lincoln Panim said to his mother as he slowly took off his scarf.

“Look, I knew this was inevitable,” she said to him. “I just did not know when it would come. These things happen in our family, or sometimes they do not happen, with others. Remember Mrs. Stottle when she passed away? Remember her aching feet? Remember when we saw her, and her feet had never changed?”

Abraham Lincoln Panim nodded in agreement.

And when it happens, if it happens, it happens,” she said. “And we certainly don’t strut around like a peacock, showing ourselves off as if we are some type of Adonis, somebody above everyone else.”

“But mom—“

“Look, when this happens, if it happens, we are humble. We do not draw attention to ourselves. We simply go about our business, and we don’t forget when people made fun of us.”

“But mom, I never told anybody to stare at me, I never told anybody to ogle my good looks, I never told anyone to adore me—“

“Listen to yourself. Listen to the words you are using—ogle, adore—just a few days ago, you were upset at how you looked and would never want anyone to stare at you like they did. Today, you are so different!”

“Mom—“

“Listen, I know when this happens, it puts you in a place that you cannot believe that you are in. Think of those that this never happens to, like Mrs. Stottle. What would Mrs. Stottle think of your behavior right now?

“And the thing that gets me the most is that you never told me. You wrapped yourself up like you always do in the morning with your scarf, and you knew the change had happened. You went to school, making people—and your own students—very uncomfortable around you. And you never let me know—you even came in here a few minutes ago with your scarf on, and you rarely wear the scarf in the house.

“You could have told me. I mean, Abraham Lincoln Panim, don’t get me wrong, I am happy that you went through the change. Like I said, not everyone does. Mrs. Stottle never did, she had to live with that for her entire life.

“But to milk the whole thing like you have done, and to push people’s face right in it, I mean, do you truly understand my mixed emotions here? We don’t judge people by how they look. We judge them by how they act. Remember what Mrs. Stottle used to say, ‘Do unto others—“

“But mom—“

“Listen, we have always been truthful about things, but this time, at one of the most important times of your life, you never told me, never let on to anybody, and then, you made your “debut” at school and made people feel uncomfortable as you strutted around the school like Superman.

“That will not ever happen again, do you understand? Never again.”

Mrs. Panim got up from the table, and went into her bedroom, loudly closing the door behind her. Abraham Lincoln Panim said, “I’m sorry,” but he doubted he heard her.

He picked up his scarf as he left the kitchen, and he went back into his bedroom, laying on the bed where his hand mirror was. He again looked in the mirror, but put it down quickly on the bed.

“Is she so upset that I am now the most handsome man in the world, or is she upset that I didn’t tell her what had happened to me?” he thought to himself as he once again picked up the mirror, admiring his features as he continued to think about what his mother was thinking about him.

“I think Mrs. Stottle would be proud of me,” he thought, as he glanced over to her photo. He saw that her smile was now gone, replaced by something of a blank look on her face.

“I must be tired … I must be seeing things,” as he turned away from the picture, and stared into the hand mirror again and again and again.

Rant #3,714: I Can't Stand Up For Fallong Down

Monday was simply one of the most frustrating and nerve-wracking days of my life.

I had my first medical appointment of the week, and at this point, I don't know if it went well or not.

I told the doctor about my prostate ills--he was the one who directed me to the urologist I have been using--and to make a long story short, he believes my continued woes seven months after the fact is that I have--

An infection, and he prescribed me pills to combat that, if that is what I have.

So he told me to cancel the invasive procedure I was going to have on Thursday, and to stop taking whatever pills the urologist prescribed to me.

He also made an appointment for me with another urologist, for a week from Friday.

So is an infection what is ailing me?

At this point, your guess is as good as mine ... and I don't yet know if canceling the procedure was the right thing to do.

I was sworn by my doctor to secrecy, and my urologist's office did call to find out why I canceled, but I didn't breathe a word. I let them figure it out for themselves.

Also at the doctor's office, tests found that I have--

An extra heartbeat.

Look, I knew my heart was ticking pretty well, but it never knew that it was ticking too much.

So to watch this, I am now wearing a device on my chest to monitor all of this, which I have to wear through Friday morning.

They had to shave part of my chest so the unit would affix to me, and they gave me a cut that bled for about a half hour.

So now, while I don't have to go to the procedure on Thursday, I do have to go back to my regular doctor on Friday--the 13th, naturally--and I have a new urologist to go to next week.

As you could imagine, after I picked up my new prescription--which of course, wasn't ready when I went to pick it up--I went home, ate lunch, did any work that I had to do, and then crawled into bed and slept for two solid hours.

This is all very depressing, perplexing and frustrating to me, and I guess my mind and body simply crashed.

And this is all prior to the fun I have the next two days, covering eight-hour conferences for work.

So, with everything going on, I will be in and out of the Blog for the remainder of the week--

If I survive all of this, which right now, is somewhat questionable.

No, not really, but to me, this is not living, and this certainly isn't retirement.

I ask myself, and i ask myself constantly, the following question:

"What did I do to anyone to deserve this?"

And you know, i don't have an answer to that question.

(I will, however, have much more to say about the passing of Sly Stone when I have a chance.)

Rant #3,713: Easy To Be Hard

Have you ever had a day where, in spite of your best efforts, everything you do goes wrong?

I had such a day on this past Saturday, and it was very frustrating.

It all began early, literally right off the bat 

I woke up, and took a shower, which, for some reason was ice cold.

It didn't get even lukewarm until I was done and ready to shut the shower off.

Then I got dressed, looked for the Saturday newspaper, and it wasn't there.

I looked several subsequent times, and there was no newspaper.

It was past 8 a.m., and since the paper never came, I contacted Newsday for a refund--by that point, I had read the paper online.

Saturday is my son's bowling league day, so we went to the alley, and he began bowling--

Only to be stopped when the lanes malfunctioned, to the point that the two teams had to move to another two lanes--

Where my son and his team had a bad off week and lost both games.

Later in the day, while my wife was at work, i do what I always do, which is to go out for fast food, as it gives my wife a break from cooking.

She texted me whst she wanted, and I went out to get it, and get something else for myself and our son.

I brought everything home, only to discover that they left out part of my son's order, and that I was given the wrong type of salad for my wife.

And later, the Yankees lost to the Red Sox, so that served as the "cherry on top" fir a lousy day 

Sunday started off poorly.

My electric razor may have broken, as it took forever to shave thst morning.

But happily, the rest of Sunday went a little better, and my wife, my son and I went out to a local Italian restaurant to celebrate our 32nd anniversary, and everything went well--

Which i hope is a good omen for this week, as starting today, I have one of the busiest weeks i have ever had.

As you are reading this Rant, I am in my doctor's office, where I begin my yearly physical.

I feel fine, I am not expecting any major surprises, but more on that later.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, I have back-to-back eight-hour meetings to cover for work, and they already told me thst they want the coverages back ASAP.

I replied that I will do the best I can, but I have a major appointment with my urologist on Thursday.

As I said, I feel fine--

Except for one thing: the after effects of the procedure that I had more than six months ago.

My body should have healed, but I appear to be one in a million--

It hasn't healed, and on Thursday, I need to go through another procedure so the doctor can find out why.

After the first procedure, believe me, I am hesitant to go through another one, but perhaps the doctor can help me this time, rather than tell me that what I am going through is "normal," which it isn't.

And I still have these stories to write!

Thus, I might be in and out here at the Blog this week.

Please bear with me, and please keep me in your thoughts.

Happily, I don't have cancer, but why I continue to suffer is something we hopefully can find out later this week--

My week from hell, but maybe the devil will spare me this time around.

It would make for a great Father's Day gift, wouldn't it now?

Rant #3,712: Shout

Yes, we are finally in June, and the warmer weather is right around the corner.

That is reason itself to cherish the coming of this month, in addition to the fact that today, 32 years ago, my wife and I were married, certainly the best thing I did in my entire life.

And i want to shout that message from the roof tops!

That is the happy part of this Rant.

Now, for the not-so happy part, a part i dont like talking about, but i feel that i must.

Please just hear me out.

The past few years, when June knocks at the door, I kind of cringe, because I know that what has become a major event held during the month is going to be foisted on us, whether we like it or not.

i am talking about the all-encompassing Pride Month, which stretches across the entirety of June while it also stretches any sane person's patience.

The media picks up on this "celebration" of LGBTQ pride like a bee to honey, and we are barraged with over-coverage of this event, with parades and other events highlighting those in this community.

I respectfully have to comment on this.

When you define yourself solely by your sexuality, you are never going to be fully accepted.

And the way the media covers this ... funny, I don't remember the local New York CBS outlet having a float in the St. Patrick's Day Parade, the Columbus Day Parade, or the Israel Day Parade, yet they annually have one in the Pride Parade. 

Why is that?

If you are gay, that is fine. But don't continually hit us all over the head with your sexuality. Nobody really cares, but you are forcing us to care, and you are forcing people like me to speak our mind about this.

A news organization is never supposed to be the story. Here, they have made themselves the story by wholly participating in this parade. 

Can anyone answer my question about a major media outlet's participation in this parade over the others?

And i am sure CBS is not the only such participant.

All that they have done is helped to make this nothing but a political engagement, and that is wrong. 

We accept too much as being "normal" today, and if you base your existence wholly on your sexuality, I am afraid you are never going to be fully accepted by the greater breadth of society.

And we devote a full month to this ... what about other groups, like our veterans? We have ONE DAY devoted to those who have served in the military ... two days if you count Memorial Day, where we honor those who have given their lives so our society can continue to thrive, and that includes the LGBTQ community, too.

We give two days to our war heroes, and an entire month to the LGBTQ community?

Please.

The month of June has been fully hijacked by an entirely political celebration that many in the general populace do not truly care about, and respectfully, holidays should not be political like this event has turned out to be. 

The cat is out of the bag, this celebration is certainly not going away, but not everyone is enthralled with Pride Month and its existence.

I might be the only one to shout out about it, but so be it.

All that I ask is for you to respect my opinion, and yes, I truly respect yours.

Have a good weekend, and i will speak to you again on Monday, the beginning of perhaps one of the busiest weeks of my adult life.

Rant #3,711: Picking Up the Pieces

Records ...

Records ...

Records ...

Records to the left of me, records to the right of me ...

And here I am ...

Stuck in the middle--

With boxes.

Yes, I am at it again, with the final boxes I have to empty, which contain my wife's records.

Yes, her collection is not as prolific as mine, but she still has a good 300-400 12-inch records--

And it is my job to alphabetize them, just like I did with my own collection.

If my records were a mess, her records are a cataclysm.

So many of the records are mixed up, in no order at all, and I have a sneaking suspicion that these vinyl disks haven't been in order for decades, or even ever.

That, alone, makes it difficult enough to put them in order.

But what makes it even worse is that many of her 12-inch records are 12-inch singles, which were very popular in the 1970s and into the 1980s.

Most of these are dance/disco recordings, and you can't really see who the artist is because the singers usually aren't prominently featured on the sleeves.

Some are, but for every Madonna, there are Stevie B, Flaspoint, Cerrone and dozens of others who I have to look at the record label to try to find out who the performers on the records are.

And since I never heard of most of them--this is a genre of music I never got into and really didn't like to begin with--it makes it all the more difficult to figure out who is who.

I have all today to get these things in order, as we have another piece of furniture that will be up and ready to go by the end of the day.

I have already filled two boxes full of records in alphabetical order, with about a box to go before everything is in the proper order.

Then once the furniture is ready to go, I can put these away, get rid of the boxes, and finally move on.

I honestly did not realize that my wife had so many records, but she does, and the care I put on getting my own records in order is a mandate I have to follow with my wife's records.

And her 45s ...

Don't get me started ... .