dear mr. president

Dear Mr. President,

I know the Supreme Court is full at the moment, but I would like to make you aware of my interest should a position become available. My qualifications are numerous, but I’ll highlight a few of the key points for you here.

• I lean to the right. True, it is largely due to back surgery and some hardware that apparently wasn’t put in at right angles to my height, but the lean is there nonetheless.
• I have no record that could be used against me by the Congress in the confirmation process. Oh, unless Ted Kennedy reads my blog. There are a couple of references to the Senior Alcoholic from Massachusetts, but I was just funnin’ when I wrote that.
• I don’t believe in legislating from the bench. The legislative branch seems to have enough trouble remembering what their job is without someone else taking a cut of their action.
• I don’t mind if you give me a nickname. I realize you’ve been a little less public about the nickname thing – not everybody was amused at some of the assigned monikers – but I thought it was charming. No, really.
• I really look good in black. It’s slimming.

Let me know if I can clarify anything else that would matter. Hope to hear from you soon.

Respectfully submitted,

Scrapwood

“remember your failure at the cave”

Ever had a moment or experience stuck in your head that replays at critical junctures?

Unfortunately, they tend to be the “game reels” of our failures.

The title for this post is from Star Wars, Episode V (I believe) where Yoda is reminding Luke (as he leaves to save his friends) about his strange encounter with Darth Vader/himself. Why on earth do we want to replay our dark moments rather than our victories when challenges rise?

I’ve heard some attribute it to a “loser attitude,” others to Satan, others to human nature. Whatever the reason, this is where I am today.

When my dad was diagnosed with a gliablastoma multiformae (Greek for “really nasty tumor”), I had quit my day job to allow mom to keep working (and to continue her health insurance). I was his primary caregiver for almost a year while the tumor ran its course. My brothers and their families had come on occasional weekends to help out, but it always came back to me on Monday morning.

For the last few weeks dad was home, my oldest brother flew in and spent an extra day staying with dad. If you’ve never been the primary caregiver for someone that ill, you could not understand the total drain of the experience.

I had attributed dad’s decline to the tumor. His body’s decline matched what the doctor had described as typical, so I really thought I was doing the best I could.

After my brother’s third weekend there, he pulled me aside. “What are you doing,” he demanded.

I was at a loss – I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“He needs water. You’re dehydrating him.“

I really thought I had been doing well. I know I did the best I knew to do. But that shattered me. We moved dad to the hospice center two days later, and he was dead within the week.

The tumor did kill him – it was located near the control center for major organs, and they were shutting down like quittin’ time at a factory on Friday night. What I did or didn’t do probably didn’t affect his longevity, but the doubt will always be there as to whether I contributed to his suffering. And as for my brother – we have a history of obstacles between us, many of my making; but that one exchange did incredible damage in our relationship.

So why is it coming up now?

• In a family wrestling match last night, the other three were on top of me and I re-injured my back. The wound started when dad was sick, as I tried to catch him as he fell out of bed rather ungracefully while reaching for his wheelchair. The back has seen two surgeries since, and I can tell you with a great degree of accuracy when the weather is turning foul. Whenever it hurts, I think of dad.
• I’m working on a project which is pushing me on a lot of fronts. I’m getting it done, a little at a time, but I don’t think I have felt this incompetent since the incident with my brother.

This endless-loop video will fade, eventually. It usually starts playing during times of stress, like the demonic version of the Little Engine That Could (“I think you’ll fail, I think you’ll fail…”); and it stops when I get to the other side of the stressful time.

Sure wish I could just erase the tape, though.