Winifred Pearl

I woke up this morning before daylight and heard the bluebirds defending their new roost in the house on our back fence. Sounded like the chickadees were trying to horn in and being quite the pests. I lay there a while longer and felt the cold nose of a Labrador Retriever on my hand. Seconds later my sweet bride was scratching my back and asking me if I was ok. Funny, I was sure that today had been cancelled here on planet earth. I'll draw upon perhaps the oldest cliche of all and declare that life will go on...it just has a hole in it now.
As she was taking her last breaths yesterday afternoon I told my Mother we would miss her. I told her I'd think about her everyday. I told her she'd still be here every Thanksgiving when I cooked the turkey and dressing she'd taught me to make. I told her she'd still be there every Christmas when I made a plate of her potato candy. Most of all I promised her I'd never again let the Atlanta Braves make the first or last out at home or third...it irritated her terribly when a baserunner let his ego write a check his legs couldn't cash.
When I was a young child - I don't know, maybe 7 or 8 years old - I had a terrible case of pneumonia. Ended up in Crawford Long Hospital for several days. The night before I was admitted to the hospital I remember running a high fever and shivering while Mother held me in her arms. She was singing that "Sunshine" song. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...you make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you,,please don't take my sunshine away..." Over the last week, on one of the nights I spent at the hospital with her, she was restless, moaning, agitated and in pain. It was about 3:30 in the morning and I felt like the two of us were alone in the world. So I grabbed her hand and returned the favor and sang her that "Sunshine" song. I thanked God Almighty that the song still has magical powers to calm the sick and nervous. She gave my hand a squeeze and went to sleep, finally. I realized, once again, that life comes full circle. She was now the baby and I was now the adult.
She'd be pleased with my breakfast this morning - a bowl of grits and a cup of strong coffee...two of the finer things in life she taught me to appreciate. She'd be glad that I got out of bed in the first place and allowed our world to keep turning. It's still turning,,,it's just a lot emptier now.

Here's your profile....

NOW FIT IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is going to be hard to put into words. But I'll try. The changes this surgery has brought to me physically - increased stamina, fewer aches and pains, my lifelong bout with asthma almost becoming non-existent - were to be expected. What is surprising, however, is the increased amount of introspection this profound change in my body has caused. Before my surgery it was easy (for me) to define who I was - I was the fat guy. Nothing else about me mattered and being "the fat guy" trumped anything and everything else about me. I let it define who I was even though I can now see that's wrong. That said, now that the weight is going, going and hopefully and ultimately gone, the focus becomes who I am if I'm not "the fat guy." And I've done a lot of thinking along those lines.
I've expressed here before how much I love music, songs and songwriters. Ok, so surely the type of music I listen to can help define me. Alas, it's no help at all. The cd player in my truck holds six cd's. At one point you could go from Roy Acuff to Miles Davis without missing a beat. Can there be two more opposite ends of the spectrum than Miles Davis and Roy Acuff? Let's get even more basic than that - "Pick-up truck" and "Miles Davis" don't belong in the same sentence. I'm odd, I tell ya..........
I've also mentioned in this blog how I generally try to avoid politics. As my father once told me, "don't discuss religion or politics with people - there's no right or wrong answers and folks just get mad." But, for the sake of our discussion, perhaps my political leanings could give me an idea of who I am. Again, no help at all. I'm not a liberal. I'm not a conservative. I'm somewhere in between. I sure don't claim any party affiliation...I have a general mistrust of all politicians from either side of the aisle. I've grown profoundly sick in these last few months of individuals who assume they know where I stand politically based on my age, ethnicity, etc... I actually had a work-acquaintance riding to lunch with me last week who was bemoaning the skills (or lack thereof) of a coworker...he raked her efficiency over the coals and ended his summation with "and you KNOW she voted for Obama..you can just tell it......" Of course he thought he was safe insulting this person who he thought HAD voted for Obama because surely a forty-five year old, caucasian, southern male like myself had not. I let it drop and didn't let him know how I voted either way...but his presumptuousness peeved me. But I digress...
I'm a beer and chicken wings while watching a ballgame kind of a guy. But I'm also a write poetry and watching babies laugh makes me cry kind of a guy. I like watching NASCAR but I religiously keep up with who's doing what on All My Children. On my nightstand you'll find Eric Clapton's biography followed closely by Robin Roberts "...Rules To Live By..." I'm ODD I tell ya.....
I was raised by some men that, in my mind's eye - were MEN in every sense of the word. Even now my father-in-law (who I couldn't love anymore if he was my biological father) fits this role well. Men are men, by God and they have answers and strength and wisdom and courage. Chronologically I'm forty-five but still feel as bumbling as a seventeen-year-old senior at Stone Mountain High School trying hard to figure out what in the hell to do with his life. I know that if I peeled away layers I'd see the frailties and insecurities of these men that plague us all. But still I use them as a measuring stick of who I should be...and it's an ideal that I'll never live up to, given the pedestal on which I've propped them. So we're back to me just needing to be "me." Great.....
Dear God...if a mental health professional reads this I'm going to be admitted for observation.

Silly stuff......

I can no longer pass a chair without sitting down. Not because I'm tired, but because I can now sit in any chair I darn well please. Prior to weight-loss, I had to have a team of engineers review each possible sitting apparatus for structural soundness and to make sure it would support my considerable girth. Now I see a chair, I sit in it. With God as my witness, last week in Bass Pro Shops I sat in a chair that I'm pretty sure was part of some display. But I had to sit in it because it was "THEYAH." (lame reference to JFK's reasons to go to the moon...nevermind......)
Occasionally, when walking, I stop to bend over and re-tie my shoe. No other reason than because I CAN. Similarly, I sometimes bend over and just grab my toes and stretch my hamstrings and calves...just for the hell of it.
When in the office, I now park on the far side of the parking deck and walk the LONG sidewalk that goes around the perimeter of the parking deck because I CAN. That habit may change when it's 125 degrees outside...but for now, it's much fun.
This past weekend I went with my bride to lunch to meet an old friend from her youth. Not very long ago I would've stayed sequestered in the house, not wanting anyone to see what she'd married. And I would've missed the opportunity to meet a fascinating individual whose friendship is important to Rhonda and therefore important to me. Similar situation this weekend...she has a reunion to attend and spouses are invited. Again, not long ago I would've been riding the recliner watching "Redneck Wedding" while she went alone. Now it's Monday and I'm picking out what to wear.
Gotta go,,,time to sneak in the neighbor's backyard and try out their new patio chairs....