You and Me

A hard look in the mirror

Life has a real way of kicking you in the nuts when you're down, doesn't it? I just had a chinese meal with a fortune cookie. Inside the message said: "The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost." That wouldn't be so deja vuish evil if I hadn't had the day I'm living through today. I have had a very, very poor weekend. I don't know how to say it, but I knew something was wrong this morning. Something disturbing was in my bones. It's not something you'd typically hear me say. I'm not exactly a fate kind of guy usually. I can't deny though, something was very ominous in my demeanor this morning. I went to the UA-Arkansas game, and afterwards I talked to my mother. The worst is happening. So I dedicate this entry to the third great man I've ever met in my life. He met my mother in Orlando Regional Medical Center in 1998. My mother's marriage was on the rocks, and promptly ended with my stepfather Geoff. When my mother met Jim Potter, there was an undeniable attraction between them. My mother loved him even though she denied it for months. She did talk a lot about finally finding her soul-mate. Ever the skepticist, I doubted it from my own personal experiences. I didn't think someone that is your other half existed. I'd been burnt too much to believe that. So, they were together when my mother had a dream about my grandfather becoming terminally ill, and thus they returned to my home town of Huntsville, Alabama. They wed the following year, and were very happy. He worked as a carpenter and mastered the science of home-building while he completely remodled my grandfather's house that he left us after he passed. He continued to work as a carpenter in a posh community near where we lived, but one day a garage was loose and fell and hit his head. It triggered a reaction in his body, a neuromuscular disease that had been dormant for most of his life. At first it was just disorientation and nausea. For a year and a half it was only a nagging disability which prevented him from very physical activity. Then it worsened. He lost the ability to walk great distances, and his motor skills were affected too. He became sick when traveling long distances, and he would have good days and bad days. Finally, several months ago his disease was diagnosed. It took a long time to find out what was causing his ills. Not the mayo clinic or any other physician could figure it out. He soon lost control of his bladder, and he was unable to breathe while sleeping. The lack of oxygen to his brain caused some mental damage and his speech muttered. This past week, he was admitted to the hospital after struggling to breathe. The pulmonologist informed us that he was having problems with his lungs functioning correctly, and that this was going to be a permanent predicament. He said it was difficult to determine how much longer he will be with us, but he feels that we are nearing the end of this terrible infirmity. He is fated to suffocate. He is no Teri Schiavo. He doesn't want to be on a ventalator. He is a brave man, and he is couragous and honorable. I've spoken of what has afflicted him, but I haven't spoke of what he affected. I said he's fated to suffocate because I realize that there is some small measure of fate in this world. He made me believe again. He never had even a minor argument with my mother. They are the happiest couple that I have ever met. My mother has deserved him. She suffered through horrible relationships and raising children on her own most of her life. This is a cruel hand that she's been dealt. While he made me believe, he gave her something that she yearned for her whole life, true love. He was a father to my fatherless siblings, and he is a deep and decent human being. I love you Jim Potter. I love you very much, and I will miss you every day of my life. You are the third great man I've met in my life, and the third time was the charm.

The Mourn of the Mississippi

My Heart's Lament


How black and dark that sick sky!
That now produces tears of every kind.
Your strangle on black gold makes corporations laugh,
And yet I weep on your behalf.

For lost are the names of forgotten faces,
And no mercy was spared upon all the races.
The bombs dropped like missles from above,
And now they starve and die for lack of love.

All the while streaks shock and scatter,
Blood from the innocent whose lives don't matter.
And explosions roar down upon your archiecture,
The assault of freedom brought by Mother Nature.

No law or order has been bestowed upon a man.
Looted is the womb of the forgotten land.
Warned but not spared is all they could do,
But rest assured that I have not forgotten you.