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Another lost heart in the big city…

Wish to God I didn’t know now

Close to two decades ago, in the winter, told you once about finding a lost heart in the big city that a woman dropped when we smiled at each other.

I don’t think I ever told you that she was blond with a dark wool hat.

That’s all I remember.

It was a lifetime ago.

Back then, I’d tell people that everyone you meet out and about was single, sorta single and not single.

What a different life I’m living these days.

Was walking the kid to his BJJ class the other day when we found another lost heart.

And I was instantly back to 2006 in my old life.

At least, in my head.

In the past five decades or so, gotta say that one of the truest things I’ve ever heard was from a glam rock back in the 80s, of all things.

The song went:

I wish to God I didn’t know now
The things I didn’t know then

Fuck me if that’s not onea the truest goddamn things anyone’s ever written.

Location: my roof, wishing it would stop raining
Mood: sleepless
Music: my best friend died (Spotify)
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Alison would have been 46

I’m able to pay, for now

A little while ago, the Professor dropped me a line.

Him: If you’ve seen the HBO series Westworld there’s a line where a female robot is about to get her mind wiped again – to spare her from feeling the pain of her child s death – and she cries out “Please, no – the pain is all I have left.” I thought that line was quite powerful.
Me: (sighing) Yeah. Thinking of Alison and my dad is always painful but it’s better than not feeling anything at all, I think. Sometimes, I think differently, but for now, I agree.

There was also a NY Times Article that my brother sent me that had a subtitle that read, If grief is the price of love, I am unable to pay.

For now, I’m able to pay it.

But, early on, I thought paying it would kill me.

As I age, it’s a bit less painful.

Time just dulls everything.

Yet, when I do feel it, man do I feel it.

But I’d much rather feel it than forget her.

Because pain is the price we pay for love.

And pain is all I have left of her.

Well, that and the boy.

Him: I wish I knew her better.
Me: Me too, kiddo. You woulda loved her.
Him: And she woulda loved me?
Me: Oh, kiddo, she absolutely did. And she’d be so thrilled with the person you’re becoming.

Location: 2017, at least, in my head
Mood: complicated
Music: don’t look back from a hurt like that (Spotify)
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Something about Mary (Elizabeth Sawyer)

Feeling it acutely

This little girl named Mary Elizabeth Sawyer was born in 1806 and she led a fairly unremarkable life except for two things:

    1. She had a little lamb, whose fleece was white – as white as snow, in fact. And this little lamb followed Mary everywhere.
    2. Her friend, John Roulstone, upon seeing this, was so amused, he wrote her a poem about it.
Image via Art and Picture Collection, The New York Public Library.

The poem went:

Mary had a little lamb;
Its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.

It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play
To see a lamb at school.

And so the teacher turned it out;
But still it lingered near,
And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear.

There’s some question as to the validity of all this, but I like to believe it.

See, almost everyone in America has heard about Mary, knew her situation, and remembered her little lamb that she loved so much, and that loved her so much.

But I’m struck that everyone forgot that Mary was a real person, with all her hopes and dreams, and people – and animals – that loved her deeply.

Even if the poem wasn’t actually Mary Elizabeth Sawyer, the hope is that Mary was a real person, and this was a real thing.

This coming week will be both Alison’s birthday and Mother’s Day.

Again and like always.

And the anniversary of her death is coming up as well.

Every May I struggle with the void that she left after she died.

As hard as that is, it’s even harder for the kid, who – year-after-year – feels the loss a touch more acutely than the previous year.

Moreover, I worry that she’ll just be a distant idea to him, like Mary.

Like, I picture her in my head like the picture above while I think that my son pictures her like the blurry main picture of this entry.

It’s her but it’s…blurry.

Then again, it’s always good to be remembered in some positive way.

Whether that be in a children’s rhyme or a blog that almost no one reads.

I’ll probably write more later, but I just wanted you to know that the Lo household was thinking about her this May, like we do every May.

And like I always do.

Him: Papa! Did you know that there’s a country called Burkina Faso? Isn’t that a cool name?
Me: It is! Did you know that mommy used to go there all the time?
Him: She did? Why?
Me: She worked for a place called Helen Keller and was always trying to help people. That’s one of the things that I always loved about her. She was always trying to help people – she was such a good person, kiddo. Maybe, when you grow up, you can help people like she did.
Him: I will!
Me: (nodding) She’d love that. She would have loved that. And you.

Location: home, worried about the weekend
Mood: concerned
Music: A few years had gone and come around (Spotify)
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I was born before…

…a lot of major historical events

With the warming weather, the Firecracker and I hit up TikiChick for drinks and their killer chix sammies recently but the place was packed, so we just ordered three chix to go.

We went to another of our fave dive bars, Jake’s Dilemma, and realized they only gave us two, so I had to head back to get the missing one.

The lady there was so apologetic that she gave us three freshly made ones that were hot, so we had five total.

I may or may not have eaten alla them.

Told the kid recently that I was born before Google. He was floored.

So, that got the Firecracker and me to talking.

Me: I was born before all websites.
Her: I was born before mp3s.
Me: I was born before the Metrocard.
Her: I was born before streaming shows
Me: I was born before flat screen TVs.
Her: I was born before mobile phones.
Me: I was born before the Russian Federation.
Her: I was born before The Backstreet Boys.
Me: I was born before the third brakelight was a thing, man that was stupidly controversial as a kid.
Her: I was born before wifi.
Me: I was born before the Euro.
Her: I was born before the Czech Republic.
Me: I was born before the UFC.
Her: I was born before the Berlin Wall fell.
Me: I was born before the Challenger explosion.
Her: Oh, I was not!

The above is the first commercial for a flat-screen TV.

I believe that it’s at least $20,000 if adjusted for today’s dollars.

It was released in 1998, when I was still working at Cnet and I remember (a) this commercial and (b) speaking to LG about their plans to make their own flat screen TVs.

Crazy, alla these things were years/decades ago, and yet, they feel like just a few years ago to me.

Me: I was born before Diet Coke.
Her: WHAT?! When did it come out?
Me: Early 80s? The only real option before that was Tab. (thinking) Wait, *THAT’S* where you draw the line at my age?!
Her: (shakes head) I cannot believe you’re so old…

Not my pic – this is the original can of diet coke that someone is trying to sell for $425.

Location: home, with an impromptu kid’s pizza party
Mood: achy
Music: I know we’ve changed but change can be so good (Spotify)
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Pilate washed his hands

All the sinners, saints

Easter just passed, not too long ago.

While I’m now a devout atheist, you’d probably be surprised to know I was once deeply religious.

Interestingly, it was my repeated reading of the bible that really started me onto the path of being an atheist.

It’s not so much alla the insanely fucked up things the bible does and says, so much as the inconsistencies and repeated illogical situations that make me no believe.

But that’s neither here nor there.

On the topic of Easter, the story goes that Pilate didn’t kill Jesus, despite being the highest legal authority in the area.

Rather, he merely stepped aside so others could do it and he could have clean hands, literally, as he washed his hands of the entire affair (Matthew 27:24).

The best interpretation of this event, IMHO, comes from my fave Rolling Stones song, Sympathy for the Devil – I’ve mentioned it here more than once.

There’s a line that goes:

I was ’round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate

Strictly speaking, it’s unclear whose fate was sealed by this action:

    • Yes, Pilate sealed Jesus’s fate by not doing anything; he effectively made it so that the mob was able to have Jesus killed for standing up to the wealthy class.
    • But Pilate also sealed his own fate as well, once he let an innocent man die for doing the right thing, he was forever damned. Because he knew he was letting an innocent man die and no amount of hand washing could clean his hands of the stain.

The wealthiest in America are on track to kill off:

    • Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion – these are somehow bad things and bad words now.
    • USAID
    • Medicaid
    • Social Security
    • Education
    • etc.

And, it seems, we’ve sealed their fates, the fates of hundreds of thousands of people – and our own – by doing nothing.

Every time I think I can’t be any more disappointed in the world, I’m proven wrong yet again.

Location: Home Depot, picking up bullnose tiles
Mood: disappointed
Music: after all it was you and me (Spotify)
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Building up the opposition

Letter vs Spirit

When I was a kid, I loved the Support your local… films  with Support your Local Sheriff as my favourite of the two.

There’s a scene where an old crook named Pa Danby is trying to bust his middle-aged son Joe Danby outta jail.

Couldn’t find that scene but the above scene is before the bars are put in.

After the bars are installed, the dad tries to yank them out with Joe’s brothers and three horses, but the men are all flung from their horses and the bars don’t budge.

Joe: I could’ve told you it wouldn’t work.
Pa: Why not?
Joe: Because they set these bars in too solid.
Pa: What do you know about anything?
Joe: I helped to set ’em in.
Pa: You helped ’em put in those bars?!
Joe: I didn’t have nothin’ else to do.

Hold that thought.

Did you know that Jefferson Davis was the Secretary of War for the US right before he became the President of the Confederate States?

He built up and – vastly – improved the very army that he would face himself.

[Davis] suggested that the size of the regular army was too small and that its salaries were too meagre. Congress agreed and authorized four new regiments and increased its pay scale. He ended the manufacture of smoothbore muskets and shifted production to rifles, working to develop the tactics that accompany them. Id.

Been thinking about that fact and Support your Local Sheriff a lot lately because the kid and I’ve been arguing a lot lately.

He pushes back with me on a ton of things.

Me: You were supposed to call me.
Him: But you said call when I get out of school, you didn’t say right when I got out.
Me: True, but the point of your calling me was so I would know when to pick you up.

And I realize that it’s a delicate balance with having him be independent but also compliant – two wholly incompatible but necessary things to successfully function in society.

Balancing it properly leads me to no end of stress and us to no end of disagreements.

But this is my job, so I do it.

After all, my dad did it for me – and I’m sure he regretted teaching me to challenge everything.

Unlike Jefferson Davis, however, I’m fully aware that however I train him to behave, I’m gonna have to deal with myself, one way or another.

Because it’s the destiny of all fathers and sons to be adversarial on some things down the line, no matter how much we support and care for one another.

That’s just how things are.

But I’ll always be on his side, whether he realizes it or not.

Here’s hoping that I’m doing it right.

Him: You didn’t say that! You just said to call you after school.
Me: (sighing) Fine. But the next thing we gotta chat about is the letter of the law vs the spirit of the law…

Not looking forward to the teenage years.

Location: My incredibly dusty room sans bathroom
Mood: beat tired
Music: you start me up before breakfast – how about we fight fire with fire? (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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5 Columbus Circle

Did you know that you have scoliosis?

Do you have any place or time that fills you with dread thinking about it?

For me, it’s 5 Columbus Circle here in Manhattan.

Always walked in with a fully developed sense of reality, only to leave disabused of that reality when I realize that what I think is true, isn’t true at all.

My first – positive, actually – example of this was way back in 2008, when I finally found out after months of waiting that I didn’t have testicular cancer.

Remember walking into that appointment fulla dread, and leaving feeling so light and relieved.

Then came alla the darkness there.

The first was in 2011, where Alison lost the first of six pregnancies.

Each one was awful for me, and soul-crushing for her – two were ectopic that required surgery.

It was not the last with her as she was there several more times.

Then, in 2012, I was told that I probably had a torn ACL there, which was confirmed.

I spent the next two years rehabing it (the picture in that entry is directly outside the building).

Then, in 2014, had another kinda spot of good-ish news when went in and was told that I needed to get a colonoscopy there but that turned out ok as well.

Between 2015 and 2017, Alison went there a number of times for tests and such for her cancer.

None of those experiences were good nor happy.

I hated even being near the place.


Two years ago, I walked in and was told that (a) I had massive bone spurs in my hand, and (b) I’d broken no less than seven of my ten fingers in my life.

And then earlier this week, I walked in after three months of trying to get x-rays and/or an MRI on my back and I was floored.

Like always, I was given a complete shock that shook my sense of self.

 

Her: OK, well you definitely don’t have cancer.
Me: (breathing in deeply) OK, that’s good but it sounds like there’s a “but” about to happen…
Her: (purses lips and nods slightly) Yes, well…did you know that you have scoliosis?
Me: What?! No, wait, I don’t have scoliosis.
Her: I’m afraid you do. Here, let me show you…

And she whipped out the x-rays you see above.

You can see the curve in my spine.

Evidently, I’ve had that my whole life.

BUT, because I’ve been working out my whole life, I never really noticed it – until recently, that is.

Me: Is that why I’m in so much pain? Like a few months ago, I could barely walk down the street when it rained.
Her: Partially. You have a lot of arthritis in your back as well, and you can see in the slide on the right where your disc slipped.
Me: Is there anything that can be done?
Her: Just PT, I’m afraid. The (main doctor) will get you a script for a much higher dose of celebrex than you’re on right now. (later) You have a lot of injuries.
Me: (shrugging) Just clumsy, I guess.

Like I said, I walked in with one sense of what my reality was and left wholly with another one.

At least I don’t have cancer.

That’s always a win, despite all the other discouraging news.

Location: home all day, nursing my back
Mood: blargh
Music: read the signs from your head to your toes (Spotify)
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Where’s my flying car?

A Skybridge to Nowhere

Him: What is that?
Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.

The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.

Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.

From ScoutingNY

Learned how to speed read around middle school.

I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.

Take the sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:

The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.

They go back at least one word, sometimes two.

You probably do it too. Try it.

Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.

At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.

That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.

Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.

Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.

It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?

By Mr.choppers – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=152037030

See, I assumed that, by now, I’d be flying around in my car. Instead, we got this monstrosity.

What happened?

I think that humans take two steps forward and one step back.

Constantly.

Like we got rid of the measles.

Because most people have no memories of just how horrific the measles were.

Then fucking morons like RFK Jr come along and say that measles aren’t a big deal because they have no fucking clue.

Then a lotta people die.

Then we gotta figure out the measles again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Arabs were once some of the most brilliant people on the planet, giving us algebra (al-jabr) and the House of Wisdom, among other things.

Then religious zealots took over and burned books and so much knowledge was lost.

Although, to be fair, this happened everywhere: China, England, Nazi Germany, even right here in the good ole US of A.

The US even had one just last year.

That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.

There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.

Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa?
Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward.
Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool.
Me: It really would be.

As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.

You cannot make this stuff up.

Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
Music: Boy, I don’t understand (Spotify)
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Got injured…again

The only heart I want

Her: You got injured?! Again?
Me: Yes. But in my defense, I’m getting injured less often…ish.

Was at the gym the other day and this younger fella, whom I’m friendly with, just ripped my arm and almost broke it.

The last time we rolled, I could tell I was frustrating him, so he was intent on winning this round.

That’s the thing; I care a lot less about winning and more about just improving in general, so this was annoying, to say the least.

Afterward, the instructor came by.

Him: Is anything broken?
Me: I’m not sure yet.
Him: (laughs) That’s the perfect answer. Get some ice on it.

So, I did.

It wasn’t broken but it was super sore and swollen.

It also meant that I had to sit around at home for about a week-and-a-half.

Whenever I can’t go to the gym, I actually have to try and eat well since I gain weight pretty much immediately when I can’t work out.

My Scenic Fights producer even commented the other day:

Him: You’ve been gaining a little weight.
Me: Wha?!
Cameraman: (shaking head) Logan? You’re outta your mind.

Anywho, as for eating well, I made a slew of roasted spicy chicken hearts the other day.

Someone convinced me to try some years ago and I got used to making them as quick and easy protein snacks.

Honestly, they taste oddly good since they’re pure protein and meat, but I get that it’s an acquired taste.

The Firecracker, for example, is not a fan.

Me: Hey, do you wanna try some of these roasted chicken hearts I made?
Her: Baby, the only heart I want you to give me is yours.
Me: But these are roasted with lao gan ma.

In any case, soon enough, the below poor food choices will all be mine once again.

As soon as I can move my arm.

Location: planting strawberries with the boys on the windowsill
Mood: ache-y
Music: But I survived I′m still breathin′ (Spotify)
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