Sometimes, we tend to find excuses for the things that don't work out for us. We tend to blame others instead of taking responsibility for our actions, which only elevates the excuses. This behavior also applies to standing up for what is right. We often remain silent and wait for someone else to take the initiative instead of holding ourselves accountable. "What's your excuse, now?" is about empowering ourselves to make choices that will help us feel comfortable and confident in our skin.
Sunday, May 12, 2024
Have A Blessed Mother's Day!
Tuesday, May 7, 2024
This, Too, Shall Pass!
I admit that living is complicated, but it’s all we have. At least, we have several opportunities to improve it. Nothing can be done after dying. I wouldn’t know, but I haven’t heard anyone returning to forewarn us.
Once again, another friend of mine is in hospice. The older I get, the more losses I experience. Captain Tom was my shipmate whom, after 40 years or so, I got in contact with regarding my mental concerns. While sailing across stormy waters, we lost a fellow shipmate during the hurricane. I was on duty in the pilot house and on the 1MC. The captain had me announce that all men remained inside the ship's skin due to the weather conditions. No one needs to go on deck to see how it looks. We could see the 30-40 feet swells and white-capped waves from the pilot house. The ship was fighting to stay on course. A few shipmates didn’t listen. Two did go outside, and one was washed overboard. The swells had moved us away from the sailor, and it took some time for the ship to come about. When we located him, the swell picked the boat up and dropped it on top of him. He was struggling but alive, not afterward.
I have always carried the blame but was able to shelve it in the background of my mind. It did not surface until I was appointed the head of the veteran program in a homeless shelter. I had always wondered why I was so edgy and distrustful of people. My wife had me go to the VA to find out. I was diagnosed with PTSD. After 40-plus years, I finally realized the truth. When I got out of the Navy, I thought it was high blood pressure and other health issues. We never thought to look at my state of mind. Now it’s too late.
I searched for Tom on Facebook for the name and dates of the tragic event. I’ve never been a fan of social media. I found him and a couple of other shipmates, and we sorted it out. He spent 38 years in service and was quite a journalist. Since then, we have maintained correspondence for the past two years. We shared some pictures of our families and discussed retirement and traveling. He was so proud of his family and their accomplishments. Most of all, his grandchildren were the ones who controlled his heart. He bragged about his wife Diane, who has been his anchor and soulmate throughout his journey. They took more ocean cruises than I could count. It was an annual event with them. I remember they had to stay in New York under quarantine during Covid because he caught it. He didn’t have the virus, but he was around someone who did, not his wife, but they had to remain separated from others.
In our conversations, he told me that he did have cancer and was receiving treatments. He would still go on cruises but took the shorter ones whenever the doctor permitted. He never gave up or let it get him down. He remained positive the entire time. The treatments did exhaust him, but he never stopped journaling. Tom was involved in several community-based programs helping people and was a member of several rotary, local, and national clubs. I tried to contact him again, but I’m sure Diane is shielding him and making preparations.
I am sad but blessed to have known Tom. He was authentic, not a fake representation of a man with integrity and honesty. Like many folks who have suffered physically, he will not be hurting when he’s called home. Tom left an impact on many of us. He’ll be missed mourned, but never forgotten. This, too, shall pass. While we are still living, we don’t need to make any excuses why we can’t change.
Saturday, May 4, 2024
Saturday, April 20, 2024
Love You, Mother Bennett!
A few weeks ago, I wrote about my 102-year-old godmother entering the heart hospital due to respiratory issues. She was retained for three days for medication and observation. When she was released, she could not return to independent living and had to be moved to assisted living, requiring 24/7 care. When I visited her at the hospital, it was hard for me to see her in her present condition. I have been so used to seeing her moving about on her own, talking satirically, and being so sharp-minded that I couldn’t speak for a few seconds. I saw a frail, little woman with oxygen tubes gazing into an unknown, unaware that someone was in the room. I called her name and awakened her from her trance. She recognized me after a few minutes of conversation. I felt her pain and concern.
I felt, in my heart, that her desire to leave this world would come true. My wife and I visited her at her new location with her granddaughters. She spoke to us briefly but then nodded off to sleep. This place was where her body and mind would only stay for a while.
This morning, we were told by her granddaughter that she transitioned last night. April 19, 2024, at 7:30 p.m. We know that you are at peace, Mother Bennett. Your pain and suffering are now indescribable and inexpressible joys in heaven, your new home. We love you and will miss you. You have made an amazing impact on many people’s lives.
I believe that Heaven rejoices whenever a family member returns home after their final journey. And we should do the same even as we mourn the loss.
Monday, April 8, 2024
YouTube Dancing, Old School Style!
I found a new video on YouTube that got my attention lately. They aren’t doing anything fancy or particular about it except elderly, black folks swing dancing from the oldies but goldies music from the fifties to the seventies. They are swinging and twirling more than stepping, but it’s interesting to see great-grandparents and grandparents finding time to recreate memories. I don’t recognize most of the music. I tried to use Shazam and Google to identify the artist and song, but neither app recognized the sounds. Some I did, such as Shotgun by Junior Walker and the All-Stars, Barry White, and Al Green from the seventies.
These old folks, dressed in their finest, put aside their walkers and canes, find new dance partners, and enjoy themselves with their dance moves. I remember that in my military days, we wore colorful outfits and shoes to match. According to the video's time, they will dance for at least three hours. I don’t look at them that long, but it may be less than an hour. I enjoy seeing them gliding and acknowledging friends on the dance floor. It could be the music my parents played when I was a child that has me fixated on what memories they had. Or, it could be in my aging process, my memories of when I danced. Then again, how did people see me on the dance floor when I thought I looked cool and dancing smooth? It took being under the influence of alcohol to get me on the dance floor. I needed an excuse to dance. They didn’t.
They have their own building that they attend to hold various functions and celebrate birthdays. The birthday celebrant wears a sash over their shoulders, and people pin money on it. The seniors have their DJ, who is attentive to them, calling them by name, giving them shout-outs, and making the people comfortable. I can only imagine how they feel and long for those days gone by. Deep down inside, I am drawn to them because I am interested in discovering more about my ancestors in Ancestry and Roots Magic. I do imagine what they went through during slavery, emancipation, reconstruction, Jim Crow, and even in these present times. We all need to have pleasant things to think about and press forward.
New Level, New Devil!
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