Tag: hope

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personal

The Knock-Offs

Seeing the moon

Me: (stepping outta the shower)
Her: (nods approvingly) Whoa!
Me: (grins)
Her: You are one good-looking old man.
Me: (frowns)

This weekend, Sara and I saw a movie for the second time with the kid.

The first film we all saw together was the black-and-white film The Mark of Zorro with Tyrone Powell and Basil Rathbone a few months ago.

In that film, when Basil Rathbone’s character was killed, the kid was super upset. I had to tell him it was just a film and the actor was fine.

This time around, we saw Project Hail Mary and – while it took the kid a little while to get into it – we all ended up enjoying it.

The thing is that the ending upset the kid because it was so poignant and well done. I think that’s a good thing because it’s good to have a kid that’s empathetic.

Despite what some people think, empathy is a very good thing that the world needs more of and not less.

Me: Hydrox was the original; Oreos was the knock-off.
Friend: That I knew.
Me: (thinking) Well, did you know that the Big Mac is a knock-off, even down to its name? It was a copy of the Big Boy Hamburger, by…Big Boy Restaurants.

Right now, JFK’s in the news a lot because of everything happening in the Kennedy Center.

But JFK wasn’t supposed to be the leader of the Kennedy clan, his older brother Joe Junior was supposed to be the leader. But Joseph was killed at only 29 years of age while trying to bomb some Nazis.

Their dad, Joseph Kennedy Sr., knew he wanted a son as president, so he turned to JFK and groomed him for leadership – with equally terrible results, at least for a father.

For me, I don’t need or want the kid to be president. I just want him to be happy and a productive member of society.

But, if the kid vastly outshines me – which, let’s face it, shouldn’t be terribly hard because I’m a D- celebrity at best – I feel I would have done an outstanding job as a parent.

And I hope that Alison would have been happy with how I’ve been raising our son.

She trusted him to me and that, plus the fact that he’s mine, makes me want to do a good job raising him.

Honestly, I just want the kid to be better than me.

He won’t be a knock-off, he’ll be something better than I ever was.

That’s the hope, anyway.

Him: Is he ok? (asking about an injured character from Project Hail Mary).
Me: I dunno, I hope so.
Him: I hope he’s ok too.
Me: (nodding) Let’s watch and find out. You always have to wait until to the end to find out.

We all have to wait until the story ends to find out what happened.

I hope before my story ends, I can find out, someday, if he’ll see the moon.

Location: Broadway with Sara, daydreaming about apartments and al fresco eating
Mood: tech-y
Music: things go a little bit better when you plan it (Spotify)
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Happy (?) New Year, 2026

A start is enough for now

Her: What are you thinking about?
Me: (sighing) 2015 into 2016 – ten years ago.

Another year’s passed.

When I was a kid, the new year was always filled with so much excitement and hope.

These days, it’s a lot less of that.

This was my room decades ago.

It’s pretty wild that it’s 2026.

I remember in 1999 how crazy it was that we were turning to a new century and millennium.

Over a quarter-of-a-century later, that seems like a distant memory.

In 2015, I had a pregnant wife I adored without end, both parents, a smoking hot career, and was in peak health.

And then, in a snap, it all turned to shit.

This was the view from Alison’s hospital room at midnight on 2015.12.31, exactly 10 years ago today. That was our wedding reception picture on the windowsill.

But I couldn’t even mourn all that I lost because I was suddenly legally, morally, and ethically responsible for another – tiny, helpless – human being for the first time in my life.

What happened the next few years was a lotta madness and haze that I’m still working through now.

On that New Year’s Eve between 2015 and 2016, I sat alone with my dying wife on the top floor of a hospital on the East River and had this exact view in the lounge area.

I remember how beautiful it all looked and, while terrified, still felt hopeful.

2016 into 2017, I felt a lot less hopeful.

In 2017, when I thought my life couldn’t get worse, it got so much worse.

And here I am in the start of 2026 with my son, who’s now old enough to be really interact with me, and Sara, who has been nothing but a gift since the moment I met her.

I struggle still with all of the darkness both in and surrounding me.

But I feel a bit more hopeful, now that I have the two of them as companions.

It’s not much, but it’s a start. And a start is enough for now.

Me: Happy new year!
Him: Happy new year, papa!

Location: an Indian restaurant, trying to warm up
Mood: hopeful(ish) and freezing
Music: Gotta find my way (Spotify)
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Leaving holes in our lives that cannot be filled

As Happy as I could be

Him: (after meeting the Firecracker) You have a type.
Me: (shrugging) It’s not so much that as there are certain traits in a partner that I value. And the partner that I would pick to be my “until-death-do-you-part” partner would have the most of those things because I value those things.

The Firecracker isn’t Alison, but they have a lot in common – far beyond both being blondes with coloured eyes.

This shouldn’t be surprising because I seek certain things, just like everyone else does.

For example, they’re both female, which makes sense, as I like females. They’re both unwaveringly kind. They both liked that I cooked and I liked that they both cleaned.

Etc. Etc.

I’ve always said that we spend our lives looking for our tribes.

Who’s the ultimate example of your tribe if not your partner?

And if your partner isn’t the ultimate example of your tribe, why isn’t s/he, and why would you be with her/him then?

Firecracker: Are you happy?
Me: (thinking) Yes. But it’s complex.

This fella named Oliver Sacks once said:

When people die they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate – the genetic and neural fate – of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

Yeah.

And when someone leaves your Venn diagram, they take with them that unique space in your life that only he or she coulda occupied.

So, I have a hole in my soul the shape of my dad that was carved out once he died.

Just like I have one in the shape of my grandmother.

But the largest hole is that of Alison. It’s still there, as are the others.

That’s not changed. It never will.

After all, grief is the price we pay for wonderful things.

My father, Alison, my grandmother – they were all my wonderful things.

So, when the Firecracker asks me something like, “Are you happy?” The answer is yes.

But, imagine that you lost your left arm seven years ago. And in those seven years, beautiful and terrible things happened, because, that’s how life is.

Assume that you’re lucky and the beautiful things far outnumber the terrible things.

I’d assume you’d be happy.

But you’ll never be as happy as you would have been if you got a chance to enjoy those wonderful things AND still have your left arm.

Except, it’s not just your left arm. It’s your right hand as well.

And other bits and pieces of your body soul.

As happy as you could possibly be, you’ll never be as happy as you could have been sine qua non/but for the losses.

That’s the truest answer for the Firecracker’s question and it’s something that I’m acutely aware of for my son.

Because, as happy as he’ll be, as good as a parent as I could possibly be, he’ll forever miss having his mother raise and love him.

He’ll forever be missing something most people, myself included, take for granted.

And my heart aches as to the truth of that statement.

It’s why Mother’s Day/Alison’s birthday is such hell for both of us.

Note that the same is true for the Firecracker.

Because we met after she’s lived decades of her life and the purpose of life is to wear you down.

She too has injuries that she bears so that, as happy as she might be with me, those injuries remain. But that’s her story to tell.

I know that I can make the years the Firecracker and I have together as happy as I can.

But I also know that there are things that I can’t do because we all have those holes in our souls in the shape of the people and things we’ve loved and lost.

I like to think that, it’s not so much that I’ll die one day, so much as it is that I’ll have so many holes in my soul that, one day, they’ll be too many for me to go on.

I’m 39 in this picture above and the main one.

My friend Nadi took them while we were having dinner one night.

Life was perfect at that moment.

At that moment: My clients are awesome, and my career is taking off. My dad is alive. I’m happy and laughing with friends. And she’s alive and we’re about to start a family. Three kids. Suburbs.

Alla that.

A year after that picture: Alison and I lost our first pregnancy. It was the start of a winter of sadness and pain that I wouldn’t have believed possible for anyone to survive.

Nonea that.

But, in that moment, I was happy because I didn’t know how fucked up life could – and would – become.

Man, the lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late.

I’m realizing how lucky – at least right now – I am.

And I’m grateful to the Firecracker and the kid for making me feel lucky again.

It’s been such a long time.

Me: But I’m as happy as I could possibly be right now. I have no capacity to be any happier.
Her: Ok, I’ll take that.

Location: A dark bullet bar with some new friends and good stories
Mood: lucky happy
Music: It’s gotta drive you crazy, how you keep it all inside (Spotify)
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So long and so completely

Happy birthday, mom

Two big things happened recently. The first was awful.

Saw a good buddy of mine the other day and he looked…off.

So, I asked him what was up. His wife answered for him.

His mother died this past Friday.

Instantly, I thought of my dad and my mom, and – of course – Alison.

When I lost my grandmother all those years ago, it was the first close loss I’d ever had.

The losses never stopped once it started.

That’s how it goes for everyone.

But no one’s really prepared for the loss of a parent, to say nothing of the loss of a spouse.

My dad said it himself when his own mom died, long after his own dad died:

I feel unmoored from my past, like a leaf in the wind or a ship on the waves.

Lines I stole from him years ago.

In any case, I took my buddy out for a drink over the weekend and just heard his (and his mom’s) story, which I’ll end here because it’s not mine to tell.

Me: This is why alcohol was invented, man.

The second was the opposite.

My own mom turned a milestone birthday, one that I’m grateful she was able to reach.

My sister came up with the brilliant plan to have many of our relatives from all over – including Taiwan – to video call her at the same time and wish her well.

As an aside, I usually put up pictures that don’t include my kid sister and only include my brother and me because, by the time she was born, I was already a fatty-fat-fat.

Anywho, getting back to my mom and the video call, she’s not one for pomp and circumstance but I could tell she was touched by the gesture.

I know that, at some point, I will have to go through what my buddy is going through and I’m not – at all – prepared for it.

Don’t think we’re ever prepared to say goodbye to the people we’ve loved so long and so completely.

Ok, that’s my sister when she came home from the hospital. I can put pics of her up so long as I’m not in them.

When I think of my mom, the faces you see above is the face I always see in my head when I think of her.

She’ll always be that young and beautiful to me.

I wish everyone we love can always stay.

Doubt that I’m alone in this.

But that’s not the deal, and we have to accept it, however hard it is.

Me: Even I have to go someday.
Him: But…what if you don’t, papa?
Me: That’s the deal, kid. We all have to go at some point so someone else gets a chance.
Him: (hopefully) But maybe it’ll be different for you.
Me: (laughing) Ok, kid. Maybe. We’ll just have to wait and see. Go do your math.

Happy birthday, mom.

Location: In the rain, picking up my treasure
Mood: nauseated
Music: seen it all the tears have fallen (Spotify)
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More medical issues

A blessing nonetheless

A while back, my sister celebrated her birthday and gave the most lovely little nod to Alison, which I’ve always deeply appreciated.

She wrote something like, “People often complain about getting old. But after my sister-in-law passed at such a young age, I vowed I would never do that. It’s such a gift to get old and not everyone gets that chance.”

I think about that on the regular.

Getting old is a blessing.

A crappy blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

Just found out that a dear and close friend of mine is in the hospital.

He’s an older fella but still very spry and active so it came as quite a shock.

Burst aneurysm.

It instantly brought me back to all those fucking nights in those goddamn hospitals – both for Alison and my dad.

But it looks like he’ll be ok, which I’m hoping is the case – we won’t know for sure for a few days.

That’s the thing about getting older: Even if you’re careful and lucky, you still spend far more time dealing with health issues than not.

On that note, I’ve been dealing with my own health issues. My herniated disc isn’t getting better – at all.

Doctor: The main issue is that your spinal canal is getting narrower.
Me: Is it because of my wrestling and fencing?
Him: (thinking) I don’t think so. If anything, your keeping active prevented this from being worse.
Me: What is it exactly?
Him: It’s the scoliosis I mentioned, and you have signs of deterioration and arthritis.
Me: Because I’m so active or…
Him: Oh no, just age. You’re 52 after all.
Me: So, I’ve been told.

To wit, after I went with the kid for over two hours to check out some middle schools today…

This pic is also not from today – they didn’t allow us to take pics.

…and after over a year of physical therapy and other things, I did the one thing left for me to do before surgery, which is a steroid injection into my spine.

Now, last week, I went to an office on the East Side twice to do alla the prep I needed to do and this afternoon, it was shot time.

I don’t have any pics from the procedure today – just forgot to take any.

But picture this: I’m lying face down on like a massage table with a cutout for my face in a FREEZING room with three young ladies.

I’m shirtless and my pants are pulled down most of the way with my rear end sticking up in the air.

Luckily for me, I have very little shame so, while it was odd and a bit disconcerting, it was ok for the most part.

Anywho, my chat with the doctor was pretty good too.

Him: So, when are you back from vacation?
Me: Oh, we’re not going for another month.
Him: Ah, good. So, I can see you in two weeks for a followup?
Me: Yup.
Him: OK. You know, I do all this small talk to distract you while we do the injection. And…done.
Me: Wait, you did it already?
Him: (laughing) Yup. Just keep lying there for a bit but you should be out the door in 10-15 minutes.

Considering how many medical procedures I’ve ever done or been part of, this was probably the best case scenario.

Afterwards, I was too beat to cook so I just took everyone out to eat at our fave neighborhood bistro.

Ende gut alles gut. / Alls well that ends well.

Whew.

What a day.

Location: a middle school, trying to figure out what to do
Mood: achy
Music: baby, don’t you think I’m looking older? (Spotify)
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Being special is the inverse of being happy

I want him happy

Me: Do you want me to wait with you?
Him: No, it’s ok, papa. I’m fine. I’ll just get on the bus and meet some people.

Woke up bright and early the other day to bring my kid to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn where he caught a bus to another state for his first sleepaway camp.

He was fine. I was a mess.

It’s a special camp for kids that have lost an immediate family member – mother, father, brother, sister, etc.

An old and dear friend of mine told me about it, whose name is – fittingly – Heal.

She’s actually on the board of the group because she too lost a close family member as a child, so she walked me through the process of applying.

Well, he made it in and is currently living his absolute best life, at least based on all the pictures I’ve been seeing.

It’s a special camp for special kids, which makes sense, because my son is special.

Certainly, he’s special to me, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

    • He could read at 18 months.
    • He plays the guitar like a teenager.
    • He just beat me in poker (granted, a well-trained poodle could probably beat me in poker but just put a pin on that for now).

He’s also the kid that doesn’t have a mother.

That is the thing that – unfortunately – makes him special in a way that no one wants.

When I was a kid, I aspired to be special.

I was/am the middle child and probably the biggest nobody until I was in college.

But it was over a college summer working in at some office that I realized that there seemed to be an inverse relationship between the special and the happy.

The happy people were the middle-management nobodies that deeply loved their spouses and kids, and their innocuous little hobbies.

Conversely, the special people were either always trying to convince people that they were still special or – probably much worse – convince themselves that they were still special.

The special people were rarely happy.

And the happy people were rarely special.

Seeing my kid blissfully unaware that he’s at all special, but for the fact he only has a dad, means that he’s also blissfully happy.

But he’s been noticing that he’s special lately, because he’s the only one of all his peers with only one living parent.

It was because of this that I sent him to this camp – so he would know he wasn’t alone in the world.

If I had to pick one, special or happy, I would pick happy every day and twice on Sunday.

God, I just want him to be safe and happy.

He’s such a good little kid.

I’d pay any amount right now, if I could know that, long after I’m gone, that he’s safe and happy.

And I’d trade all he could possibly be – brilliant, famous, wealthy, respected, everything – for him to just be that.

Me: Alright, please be careful, ok?
Him: (nodding) I will. Don’t worry. See you next week.

Location: 7AM, the gym, trying to wake up
Mood: pacing
Music: I’m ready to show that I’m no ordinary (Spotify)
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What is home if not the people that call it that?

Never having a home

Speaking of home, movies like the Warriors – which is based on a true story that happened almost 3,000 years ago – can be countlessly retold because the themes of longing, home, and survival are universal.

Hold that thought.

While I enjoy the modern takes on the Incredible Hulk – particularly the 2008 Ed Norton reboot – for someone that grew up with the 1978 television series, The Incredible Hulk, it’s very different.

Not just in terms of technology, production values, and the like, but the thrust of the show itself.

Essentially, the modern movies make stories about a god-like/monster-like hero, the television show was mainly about the other part of the Hulk, Dr. Banner.

There, Banner is shown as a drifter, and I thought that the show was the story of a man with a mindless monster inside of him.

As I got older, I got wiser and thought it was the story of a man searching for a home with a monster inside of him.

But this was wrong also, I realized.

It was the story of man that can never have a home, ever. He must always be on the run and can never relax or settle down.

Not my copyright, obvs.

Because the moment he finds someone to create a home with, that person will forever be in danger of the monster inside him.

So, he can’t have any relationships – no friends, no lovers, no children, no one.

Which is why the ending scene was always of Banner walking alone, to nowhere, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag.

Banner can never go home because he can never have a home. He will never have a home.

So, there’s no home to find.

Because what is home if not the people that call it that along with you?

And he has no one to call it that with him.

It’s such a tragic story and can probably explain how a primetime television series about a big, green, comic book character in the 70s lasted five years.

In any case, just a random thought.

Think I’m finally starting to understand the world a bit.

Which isn’t necessarily a good thing.

Oh, by the way, my son’s home.

Him: I’m home!
Me: (laughing) Yes you are!

Location: NJ, getting my treasure
Mood: steamy
Music: There’s a monster in me who shut down (Spotify)
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Wait and hope

My one and done

Her: I’m not against it per se but, Logan, if we have a kid, say, next year. You’ll be 73 when she’s 21. Do you really want to be 73 with a 21-year-old kid?
Me: Whoa, I never thought of it like that.

Alison was the oldest of three; two girls and a boy.

As the middle of three, we were the mirror of that; two boys and a girl.

She always wanted two or three kids, whereas I always wanted three. My son was always supposed to be the oldest of – ideally for me – three kids.

After Alison died, the thought of more kids was the furthest thing from my mind. After I started feeling better, I kept thinking that I needed to get into a stable relationship ASAP so that I could give the kid some siblings, which he’s always wanted.

That might have put undue pressure on my relationships after Alison.

The Firecracker and I discussed having more kids. I still dream of having more kids but I’m 52 this week (!!).

The practicality of having more kids seems less practical by the minute.

Although the NFL Player insists that we won’t regret it if we do – and he’s right, I’m sure we wouldn’t regret it. The issue is everything involved in it.

And the fact that the kid’s birth was so much joy wrapped up in so much horror further makes me more hesitant.

To this end, I’ve begun giving away alla the things I’ve been keeping the basement for the past seven or eight years in the hopes of having another kid.

Gave away a baby diaper pail, a chair that Alison got to nurse on, and the kid’s crib, which was probably the hardest thing to give away.

I love the boy in a way that I don’t have words to adequately express it.

And I’m sure I’d love whatever siblings he might have.

So, I do what I’ve done my entire life with everything, and do as Dumas said to do, Wait and hope.

Location: my old gym, shooting more scenes
Mood: thoughtful
Music: Open up the door, c’mon sing me home (Spotify)
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Writing from the future

…and you’re doing ok

The kid’s trying out for another talent show this year – I think he’ll make it, but you never know.

He’s already got a song picked out, which is a rock classic; I’ll post it after he does the show if he makes it in.

I try to show him all the songs that were meaningful to me when I was a kid because I think those songs stay with you in special ways.

A more modern song that I’ve been listening to is one called Dear Me by a fella named Eric Hutchinson.

I think I’ll play it for the kid one of these days, soon.

Whenever I hear it, I think of alla these different versions of me that are as real and immediate to me as if I were still them.

That’s a whole entry in-and-of-itself.

In the meantime, here’s the song, give it a go?

Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now, dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Dear me
I know you’re scared as hell of everything right now
But don’t get lost and where you’re going
Dear me
You’re gonna fall in love with the girl that you live next door to
And you have no real way of knowing
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But I know you’re trying
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
You don’t know who you are
But you’re multiplying
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change, but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Dear me
Don’t keep people in your life that treat you like crap
And don’t lose sleep over them either
Dear me
Never give up on the good that rests inside of you
And don’t believe the non-believers
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they will fall behind you
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
You gonna make mistakes
But they won’t define you
Dear me, you’ll be older one day
I’m writing from the future and you’re doing ok
I said now dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Take care of family and the ones you love
Put all your energy into human stuff
Staying young is hard to do
So, when life’s getting serious just don’t take it so serious.
I said dear me, hold on to what you’ve got
Things are gonna change but change is better than you thought
Said you gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
You gonna get yourself, get yourself, get yourself together
Keep growing up, but don’t get old
Take care of what you can’t control
Respect the heart that you’re gonna break
Forgive mistakes that you will make
If I were you I would not care
But some old messes to beware
So you probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You probably won’t listen to a word I say
You’re doing ok
Dear me.

Location: home, chatting with the Firecracker who’s stuck at the airport
Mood: nostalgic
Music: get yourself together (Spotify)
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Fire and Ice

Bone-chilling

Her: Have you seen my cow slippers? It’s freezing.
Me: Since meeting you, I’ve heard sentences I’ve never heard ever in my life. Which is saying a lot, because I’m over half-a-century old.
Her: You told me I bring joy and light to your life.
Me: I say a lotta things.
Her: (glares)

It’s been bone-chillingly cold out here lately – and not just between the Firecracker and me.

Like, seriously bone-chilling:

But that also meant some snow and sledding out around here, which is a welcome thing for the kids.

Both kids were excited to get their snow on, so we were up insanely early to let them do it.

There was hardly anyone there when we first arrived.

But that was relatively short-lived.

Which is fine because the Firecracker and I were both freezing.

Her: I’m glad we’re leaving. I can’t feel my toes. (starts laughing).
Me: I can’t either. What are you laughing at?
Her: (pointing) That. Every time I come here, I see the remains of sleds that gave up the ghost.

My brother hates the snow and winter, which is why he lives in Pasadena.

But he and Paul have been dealing with the opposite problem of ice and snow, and that’s fire and ash.

Which sounds a lot like what we had to deal with here two years ago.

This is a pic of his backyard…

…usually, those pools are pristine.

Smoke and ash notwithstanding, he knows that he’s among the lucky ones, at least so far.

Paul and one of the Scenic Fights producers had to evacuate and one of them is just a few blocks from my brother’s pad.

Me: Can I post these pics?
Him: Sure, though what’s there is of course trivial compared to the sorts of calamities that befell houses up the way in Altadena. Those pics were from the morning of Tuesday the 8th, I think. The night before there were winds like I’ve only seen/heard maybe once before here in LA, it was nuts.
Me: Man…
Him: You know, I’m not sure I’ve used the word “befell” in a sentence befall.
Me: Are you proud of yourself here?
Him: It’s like Albert Shakespeare said, “Pride is a many-sided mirror.”
Me: (sighing)

Location: my living room, after the kid accidentally dropped his entire spaghetti dinner on the white rug
Mood: blargh
Music: You pulled the rug right out from under my life (Spotify)
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