I see my photo of last day fired up a few of my detractors. Yes, I look fat and old in some photos. That was true in my thirties, so I’m not worried in the least. In the picture, I’m also leaning to the left which makes my butt look big when in real life it is not big. Let me tell you about what I used to do at work long ago, concerning unwelcome co-dependencies.Whenever I was compelled to have a conversation with somebody I normally would not associate with, I’d put a stack of twenty dollar bills on the table beside me. I’d explain that every time they said something stupid, I would take a dollar from my left and put it on my right to save up for going back to college. Two dollars if they insulted me. When the twenty bucks was on the right, I’d sit there and pretend to go deaf. Well, detractors, help me get yet another degree. Ooooo, that’s one dollar already, or is that two?
Which brings me to the Friday Maker session (the Miami group advertising a California-style think-tank). We, our club, are divided on that one. I say we cannot afford to not check it out. Others disagree after reading that session topics include stitching and art, and that the organizer resides in Ann Arbor. I say any club in Florida that expects to attract the above-average cannot afford to reject even one applicant. So if I just show up, the worst they can do is say no dice. In which case they will likely wind up sewing quilts and arranging flowers. In Michigan.
Now something new and vitally important to me: stem cell heart regeneration. A UM researcher has used a man’s own stem cells to repair the patient’s heart. Shown nearby is the newspaper ad. Why do I regard this one as different? Because the man, Barry, says a dozen things he could not possibly know unless he went through what I did, no way to fake that.The hexagons in this scan tell his story. The words which stand out to me are he had a heart attack that was not detected until years later. Ah, so I’m not the only one. Heart regeneration is so rare I have no doubt the stem cells were a primary factor. He quotes he could “actually feel” his own heart healing. No way can that be imagined, Barry could not lie about that. It’s like a subtle, silent clicking like sore muscles that finally relax.
Then, two years later he runs a marathon. I don’t need further convincing. I still cannot run a mile. I put 7,000 miles on my bicycle and cannot walk to the corner store. Barry’s case is due to be discussed in fanatical detail beginning this Thursday. There were times I nearly prayed for such research and there could be no objection to the use of one’s own stem cells by any third party.
I mentioned company. Estelle was over for the afternoon. No, she is not my girlfriend. But she is an example of why I must be so fussy. She walks in and owns the place. The tea, the sugar, the chair, the music, she helps herself—and she is not that assertive a lady. If I am not careful, any good-looking woman in the world will take over my life. Except for a couple total head-cases I’ve met, but you know what I mean.
Estelle and I had the option of Chinese food, the movies, a motorcycle ride, the library, even the bakery. We stayed right here with tea and ginger snaps. Listening to the radio. We fell asleep in the chairs until past 4:00 PM. My kingdom for that woman who shows me a good time without trying to change me into the dumb bastard boyfriend she had twenty years ago. You want a commitment? Go sign a mortgage.
This paragraph has nothing to do with Estelle. She doesn't try to change me, she's just not my type. To any woman who objects if I compare her to Robyn, remember (big difference) that I never try to change you into her. Because women who object to comparison will never in their fucking dreams be 1% of the babe she was back then. Past tense.
And Zumba class came back. Just two weeks off when my instructress was on holidays and I have to start over again. Tuckered me right out. This photo is the spacious dance studio, somewhat classier than the one I used to work at. They have a chandelier. If you squint you’ll see Roxi’s mother and I in the mirror at center, waiting for a quota to show up. A quota being four people and today we had five. This [class] shredded and re-glued every muscle I forgot I had and wore me down to the slowest individual in the room. And it’s an all-girl class.I had my mind on electronics toward late evening. I’ve managed, conceptually, to redesign the ROM project in terms of now having a working drill press. I’ve drawn out a plan to leave double spaces on the copper plate, turn both plates upside down, saw the spacers with the upcoming table saw, slice the perfboard and 45 degrees, and cut rather than etch the copper grid. Not bad for an hour’s work while sitting in Buddy’s. Yes, I went for beers after class. Why not? Nothing else going on.
ADDENDUM
I hear it all the time. The baby boomers are to blame for everything wrong in the world today. But think about that. The real problems in this country were already in place by the time I arrived. There exists a good argument that the baby boomers did not even turn 18 until the mid-60s and had no real political power until the 80s--which were fantastically heady times.
I’m aware boomers focused on anti-war protests and flashy impeachments rather than abolishing the entitlements that are bankrupting the country today. They are certainly very guilty of not opposing unlimited welfare nor was there any sizeable opposition to the welfare state in general. I view all handouts of unearned money as welfare, whether it is unwed mothers or Chase Bank. (This attitude does not extend to insurance, for insurance is something I opted to pay for in advance.)
Worse, the boomers are guilty of calling anyone who opposed the handouts a “redneck”. They can never be forgiven for that. My memory is that boomers had an easy life and thought of welfare as an insignificant necessity rather than a creeping cancer, and therefore everyone should be glad to “pay their share”. The problem is that not everyone else had an easy life. Share, my eye. A 15% tax rate hit the poor sap like me far worse than it did any rich kid. In that sense, it serves the Boomers right, for now that the spending curbs they berated have become necessary, they are no longer welcome in either camp.
Still, the boomers did not originally create the social evil behind welfare dependency. What do I blame them for? I do hold the boomers responsible for the insane real estate bubbles, the credit crisis, and lack of foresight concerning their own retirements. That’s something every last one of them brought upon themselves. I was there to watch them ignore both good advice and good example. Crowing about their wealth while taking on boggling debt. It was basically a contest to see who could borrow the most. I “came in last” because I borrowed the least. On the other hand, I have no concept of what it is like to owe somebody money for 30 years.
There is no lost love between the complacent and myself. I feel no obligation to assist groups who did not assist me. Yet, while I collectively hold the boomers (totally) responsible for their own sad state of affairs, I don’t blame them for everything. Heck no, I partially blame their parents. Ha!
