And How Was Your Day?

 

The surprises life occasionally drops in your lap can sometimes be nothing short of incredible.

 

I drive a shuttle bus five days a week for a particular business. I’ve been driving it for two years, now. In that time, I’ve gotten to know several of the folks who ride it on a regular basis. I know many of them by name, and enjoy talking with them when they ride with me.

We’ll talk about just random stuff: music, sports, the job, the mercilessly hot weather (currently), whatever.

And, somewhere in the conversation, I try to get a laugh or two out of them; maybe make them forget a few seconds about the stress of the day. Some people, I can joke with relentlessly, because we know each other that well by now.

This one fellow, who shall remain nameless, and I are like that, but one day, we got a little deeper in our dialogue. I don’t recall how we got to this subject, but I shared my depression struggles with him, which led to him opening up about his depression, and sometimes thoughts of suicide.

He told me he’s thought about it “logically”, i.e., exactly how he would go about it.

I told him about how I wrestle with those same thoughts, and recommended that he get help, as I did. Because, like I’ve said before on this blog, that’s way too big a dragon to try and slay on your own.

He thanked me for the talk, and we haven’t brought it up since. Which is probably bad; I should have followed up on it with him. But, I don’t see him as much, now; since relocating to the main office, he doesn’t need to go to the other facility too often. Not that that’s any excuse.

So today, when I walked into the office, the lady at the security desk, who I also know, had a card for me from him. Now, we both expected it to be something funny, because he and I sometimes leave snarky little notes for each other with her. She kinda gets a kick out of being the go-between, I think.

Not this time. Instead, it was a thank-you card. Inside was a generous gift, and a note which read:

I really struggled on a daily basis with depression during my old job. Part of the reason I was always on the bus was you. Thank you for making me laugh and smile.

 

I just stood there for a minute, looking at that note, totally dumbfounded. I genuinely didn’t know what to think. I’m still trying to get a grasp of the significance of it.

At the very least, though, it’s immensely gratifying. I have no idea if I’ve helped anyone with what I’ve written on this blog; I can only hope. But, I can take some satisfaction in knowing I helped him.

With just a few jokes. Who would have thought?

I don’t know what this story will mean to you, if anything. Like I said, I’m still processing what it means to me.

But, have you ever been at a point in your life where you never envisioned yourself being, wondering why you were there?

I don’t know for sure, but maybe, this guy was the reason I’m right here, right now.

Which blows my mind just a little.

Love one another, y’all.

 

 

One more letter to my Senators

This has to stop NOW!

Ends and Beginnings

Note: Feel free to use any or all of this letter to send to your representative(s)

So, are you asking yourself this question yet, what does Vladimir Putin have on Donald Trump? And if you aren’t asking yourself this question after the Helsinki love fest my only question to you is why aren’t you? Trump has spent the last year and a half bashing our closest and most loyal allies. People and countries that have come to our defense no matter what the cost to themselves or their countries. Nations that have spent money and shed blood on our behalf. And rather than thanking them for their support and their loyalty Trump condemns them, ridicules them and embarrasses them while heaping praise with the enthusiasm of schoolboy in love on a violent and dangerous dictator.

We don’t need Russia. Trump claims that because they are a “nuclear power” that somehow…

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The Decline and Fall of the United States

Thank you, trump supporters, for all of this.

Endless Bitchen Summer

July 16, 2018: A Day That Will Live In Infamy

We have been attacked by our own president.

The United States is no longer in control of our own foreign policy; Vladimir Putin and the Russian Confederacy are dictating our agenda.

This is unprecedented. All Americans should be highly alarmed.

At this point, if you vote for anyone who supports the Trump agenda, you are voting against the sovereignty (independence) of the United States.

There is no going back. Our president has humiliated and broken ties with our democratic allies, while he embraces the world’s dictators.

Where do you draw the line?

  • As the sister of a brother who suffered from Muscular Dystrophy, the line for me was crossed when Trump mocked the disabled reporter in November 2015. What type of person does this? In a society that decries bullying, our president is the biggest bully in the world.

Trump…

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My Final Year As a Quinquagenarian

 

In other words, I turned 59 today.

Anyone between the ages of 50 and 60 is a quinquagenarian. It’s a word you use all the time, right?

Are you kidding? People that age get worn out just saying it. Who the blue devil came up with that title, anyways?

Never mind, here I am, standing at the threshold of 60. A threshold I thought would take a lot longer to show up. Truly astonishing, how fast life runs when you’re not looking.

It’s unfair, too; by the time you come to appreciate just how precious your days on this earth actually are, they’re mostly gone.

But enough gloom and sadness. The larger point is, I’m still here! And, as that noted philosopher once said, “Any day above ground is a good day.”

(Even with the guy we currently have as President, but I digress…)

Also, considering that I’ve spent the last several years with depression as my constant companion, occasionally urging me to just cash it all in, it’s a small miracle I’m still around.

And, on the whole, I’m glad I’m here. Despite what I try to tell myself sometimes, life actually is worth living.

Especially when I can get in some naps. Us old folks need those, you know.

So, have a piece of cake for me. Heck, indulge; have two.

Just don’t make me blow out any candles. I’m still a little winded from saying that word.

 

 

 

Why Do I Keep Talking About Gun Violence? Good Question.

The problem is guns. Not people. Guns. None of you 2nd Amendment folks will ever convince me otherwise.

Dogpaddling Through Life

Saturday I went to a Pride/ Family Togetherness Rally. Everywhere I looked I saw the happy, smiling faces of people who were enjoying each other’s company while celebrating who they truly are. And I looked everywhere, too, because I was watching for people who appeared out of place.

People like the 30-something white guy (a former high school teacher) that showed up at a rally held in a town an hour away and heckled the crowd while an Episcopal priest offered prayer. When confronted by members of the crowd, he pulled out a gun.

The NRA wants us to believe that all gun owners are responsible and have nerves of steel, but the stories I read daily about our well-regulated militia are enough to make your hair curl. Actually, It’s the Well Regulated Militia that share those stories on Twitter and Facebook (I strongly encourage you to follow this account).

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