I Still Can't Say Goodbye

(I began this post a year-and-a-half ago.  I never got around to finishing it.  Probably because I still have trouble reliving it and saying goodbye.  Time to finish this and begin healing...or at least letting out a good cry.)

Today is my daughter's 11th birthday.  I should be writing about happy things and memories of her over the years, but as my time for personal introspection and documentation (blogging) is so limited, I feel the need to get my thoughts down about one of the saddest moments of my life: losing my dad.  I was going to address the events of the missing past 2 years chronologically, but this is the one even that has - and likely will always - keep coming back to me the most.

My dad and I have always had a good relationship.  Not always close, but good.  When my dad came out as transgender and my parents split, I was 12.  I was already the fat, picked on, bully target of the neighborhood, and heading into adolescence with this additional bullseye on my back was not something I looked forward to.  My mother decided to move back in with her parents in Michigan, and I saw this as an opportunity to reboot my life and social standing in a new town. Besides which, as my mother was totally blind, I figured she could use the help. I moved to Michigan with her while my sister elected to stay behind in Jersey with my dad.

Being a teenager, I had no thought of how, or even IF, this would affect my dad. I know she understood, and if she didn't, I even explained it to her later on, but to this day, I still don't know what went through her mind when I moved away.  At the time, she was just beginning her transition to living as a woman full-time.  She had a lot on her plate legally, professionally, socially, and emotionally, so I don't know if parenting a teenage boy as well would have helped or hindered.  I do know that having most of your family abandon you while you dealt with beginning your life from square one with the majority of society against you, for me, would be devastating.

But I digress....

Despite the miles and infrequent visits, my dad and I stayed in touch through weekly (more or less) phone calls.  Over the years, as we both grew into the people we wanted to be, we grew closer.  When I joined a barbershop chorus, we suddenly had a LOT more to bond over, as she (as Bill) had sung in barbershop choruses in the 60's and loved the artform.

She was able to see me get married, have children, join a chorus, join my first Society quartet, start my own quartet, take lead rolls in chapter shows, direct my own chorus, get divorced, and I know she was proud of the man her son had become.

The day after my birthday last year,  I hopped on Facebook and saw a post from her saying she wasn't feeling quite right.  I knew my sister was there in Topeka visiting her for the first time, so I didn't worry much.  I called my dad just to check in, and after talking to her, I suggested she go to urgent care to get checked out. She refused. I called my sister on her cell and asked her to take dad to the urgent care.  Dad still refused.  When my dad's partner, Mary, came home from church, they ganged up on her and took her in.  The next several hours were a whirlwind of phone calls. My dad had pneumonia, and her  condition was rapidly declining.


And here I was in Michigan...unemployed.

Danielle and I were on the way back from dropping off her daughters with their dad, when I got a call from my sister: Dad is getting worse and the doctors aren't being encouraging.  I sat there in the passenger's seat of Danielle's car, stunned.  Danielle immediately insists she buy my a ticket to Topeka, as she had some frequent flyer miles. I arrived early Monday morning, my sister drives me from the airport to the hospital, and there's my dad.  No glasses. No wig.  No makeup.  No jewelry.  Hooked up to machines and looking ashen and pale.  I could barely recognize her.

She wasn't breathing on her own.  Her blood toxicity had resulted in multiple organ failure.  Extensive brain damage was likely.  We had a decision to make.  Was this really happening?  I had just talked to her yesterday!  We all had a great visit not 2 months ago!  She had quit smoking 2 years ago!  There was no seeing this coming.  No preventative measures.  No warning signs.

It was simultaneously the easiest and hardest decision I have ever made.  We knew exactly what she would want, but none of us wanted to let go. Thankfully, we all were in the same mindset, and able to strengthen each other for what we knew my dad would want us to do.

The doctor turned off the machines.  I remember whispering in my dad's ear, "It's okay.  We'll be fine. We love you. You can go," and kissing her forehead. I played a recording of "Let There Be Peace On Earth" - one of her favorite barbershop arrangements.  Danielle flew out a few hours behind me, and was able to join us for the last 1/2 hour of my father's life. Within that half hour, she was gone.  My dad passed away surrounded by her closest family, her beloved partner, and the church pastor she loved and respected, all telling her how much they loved her.  There was no long term suffering, no loneliness.  Just love.

The next week was spent trying to finalize her affairs and cleaning up her house for Mary, who, understandable, found it all a bit overwhelming.  She allowed my sister and I to take any personal affects, family photos, and documents we wanted.  We took my dad's multiple jars of quarters and all celebrated her life with a trip to the casino.  We laughed, cried, drank, and celebrated all the things that were Paula Elizabeth Keiser and William Meyer Keiser Jr..

The death of my father changed me forever.  Even Danielle has commented that I'm a bit more sullen, more prone to moody episodes, and more aware of my own mortality.  I know she's right, but as the past two-and-a-half years have progressed, and life has gone on, the moodiness has slowly been replaced with fond reminiscence - the sullen demeanor with...well, the same demeanor, when that mood strikes me, but those moods are fewer.

These days, rather than missing my dad and wishing I could just call her up to ask random question or chat, I can remember her clearly and know what I'd hear.  Her laugh, smile, bad jokes, sarcastic jibes (both at my and her own expense), are all a part of me.  I'm lucky, because I knew her well enough to know what the answer would most likely be when I ask, "What would dad do?", whether I'd like that answer or not.

In many ways, I've become a carbon-copy of my dad (gender preference aside, of course).  My "dad jokes", social perspective, insecurities, interests, passions, some bad habits, even facial expressions, are all the result of my love and respect for her.  When I look in the mirror, I see my dad, and I know she's not really gone.  She lives on in me, so I don't think I really have to say "goodbye," per cest.

More like, "I gotta remember to tell you this story, someday..."

Throwback Thursday

It's been a little over two years since I wrote my last blog post, so there's a lot to "throwback" to.

The funny part is, I seemed to have stopped blogging right when my life started getting better...MUCH better!  I guess along with all the new changes came a lot of time commitment, and commitment to other people.  This is the first time that I can recall in that entire time where I've actually intentionally set aside time to blog.  I took the day off work, came to my old blog-writing spot (Bigby Coffee in Madison Heights), got my usual large coffee and cranberry-orange muffin, and blocked out an hour or so to just get my thoughts down.  It's like digging out an old photo form several years ago and remembering simpler (yet simultaneously more tumultuous) times.

At the time of my last post, I had just signed up for an online dating site.  My sister had suggested it, as I had just broken up with my girlfriend.  We'd been dating for all of about 3 months, so I wasn't exactly heartbroken, but I was feeling a bit lonely.  After chuckling at the idea for about a day, I figured it couldn't hurt, and if nothing else, would be an interesting social experiment.  I went on a few dates with some very nice women.  No nightmare dates, and most of them I still keep in touch with.  I started dating one woman exclusively and we both took down our profiles from the site.  After a barbershop event, I started getting a text from an old girlfriend who was having some similar troubles finding the right match and was asking for some advice on making her profile.  I suggested that I could sign back on and review it for her.

Now, re-opening an account with this site means you have to keep it active for at least a week.  I explained the situation to my current girlfriend, who was reluctantly okay with it.  I re-activated, assisted my friend, and amended my profile to indicate I wasn't 'available', with the intent of deactivating it at the first opportunity.

Within a day, I was messaged from Danielle, a mysterious woman with no profile pic, but a charming profile, and we continued to converse.  I made sure she understood I was in a relationship and this would be strictly platonic.  She understood and we became friends. Danielle has 2 kids of her own and was going through a divorce, as well.  We had an incredible amount of things in common, almost to the point of making one believing in destiny. We conversed, met for lunch, and talked on the phone. She was brilliant, beautiful, funny, sexy, and quite simply everything I have every wanted in a woman.  I could go on for pages, but I'll save that for another post.

Long story short: she was persistent, I was smitten, and we started dating.  My (now former) girlfriend took it as well as could be expected, but didn't want to remain 'just friends', so we parted ways.

Danielle was already researching apartments in my area and ended up getting one in the same complex as mine. our kids got along great, we had our own spaces, but could see each other whenever we wanted to.  All was right with the world...

Then I lost my job.  As the business environment changed for the company I worked for, I began to notice some practices I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with.  When I raised my concerns, citing examples, to my superiors and the owner, I was dismissed without any explanation other than, "it's not working out".  This came as quite a surprise to me, after over 2 years of being one of the top reps and one of only two to survive that long.

At that point, my choices were limited to moving back with my grandfather in the same room I occupied in middle school (and briefly in college and early divorce), or a cardboard box behind the local McDonald's.  Neither of us were happy with the idea of not being able to see each other whenever we wanted. Danielle surprisingly suggested I move in with her.  We had only been together for about 2 months at this point, but things were going well, so it was worth a try. I reduced my belongings to the bare(ish) essentials, sold/donated the extras and most of the furniture, and moved in.  The rest is history.

As I don't have time to sum our entire relationship in a single post, I'll summarize saying that since then, we've gotten engaged, rented a nice bungalow, gotten married, and are exceedingly happy together.  This is what I always dreamed marriage could be!

There have obviously been several major events in this time: lifestyle changes (Danielle moving from Camaro to Caravan comes to mind), my triumphant final contest with my quartet, a week at Harmony U, my fortieth birthday, and probably the worst part of the past 2 years - saying goodbye to my father.  All of these I will try to address in future posts.  My hope is to make time to do this on a semi-regular basis. 

Here's hoping I can find a few hours of "me" time now and again.

Back in the Saddle Again...

Dating. Ugh.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the prospect of meeting new people and exploring romantic possibilities, it's just the uncertainty of it all that drives me nuts.

Being that my primary social outlet is barbershop these days, the options are pretty well nil. When your primary social group is comprised of 45-90 year old men, aside from the occasional daughter or granddaughter who may tag along (pun not intended, for those of you that saw it), there's not much chance to meet women.

Still, not one to let life just pass by (anymore), I'm trying. I have a date tomorrow. She's smart, funny, talented, and pretty, and even indirectly connected to my circle of friends, despite how we connected. That helps...a lot! I'm hopeful.

I just hope I don't come off as a babbling fool.

Wish me luck!

...'Cause I'm....Movin' out!

Only 2 months since my last blog? Wow. Usually it's 3-6 between entries these days.

Anyway, I'd love to get into the details of "International Convention: Part Deux" as well as recounting my current quartet & chorus's first foray into Pioneer District competition, but right now, it's difficult to recall the details with so many other things on my mind. After a couple years of gathering paperwork, faxing and FedEx-ing, and much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth, I've finally decided to let my home of 13 years go.

It wasn't an easy decision to come to. It was my first house, I raised 2 kids there, my daughter was born IN that house, not to mention the simple matter of personal pride and responsibility I have regarding my mortgage obligations and being a homeowner. Ever since I set foot in that house for the first time, I started planning home improvements, floor plan changes, future additions, etc., to make that my home for as long as I could. I love the neighborhood, the location, the town - everything about WHERE it is.

Recently, however, the realities of this house began to dawn on me. It was built in 1954 and still had original...everything. Asbestos shingle siding, steel kitchen cabinets with enamel-coated iron sink, same 750 sq. ft. floor plan, rotting wood windows, and gutters. About the only things ever replaced in that house were the furnace (almost 30 years ago - we'll get to that) and the water heater (about 4 years ago). To make this house a GOOD house, even with the current floor plan, it would require a good $20k in renovations and upgrades.

Nonetheless, it was currently inhabitable and I figured once I got the mortgage back on track and my credit straightened out, I could start some of these renovations, one-by-one, with the help of county home improvement grants and energy efficiency rebates. Then came the final straw...

Since I started up the furnace this year about a month ago, I noticed that the burner had trouble staying lit. It would run for about 30 seconds, peter out, then relight with a BIG WHOOSH. This, I determined, did not seem normal operation, or safe at all. I called in a tech to look at it, hoping it was mostly a matter of cleaning off something. No such luck. He gave an estimate of about $1,3000 to replace the pilot assembly and to clean the furnace completely (being enclosed so much and needing to basically be disassembled it to do so). This ON TOP OF the other $20k+ in renovations I would need to do at some point to the house. In a place I STILL wasn't sure I'd be able to keep, in a market where the value of the house as it is would be something equivalent to a cardboard box behind a McDonald's, I wasn't about to commit to that kind of investment.

So, the next day, I started looking for an apartment. After crunching numbers for what seemed like days, I determined that I could afford something akin to what my old house payment was...barely. I looked in my beloved Hazel Park/Ferndale area and only found run-down flats in "iffy" neighborhoods, so I stared expanding my search. I decided to take a look at Amber Apartments, the parent company of which owns about half the apartment complexes in Royal Oak and neighboring communities. I was SHOCKED to find, than when I included what I'm used to paying for my gas & water bills (both of which are included in the rent) it was smack dab in my budget range for a similar-sized place!

I looked at a very nice 2-bedroom 2nd floor apartment in north Royal Oak, and fell in love with it. It was at the upper end of my budget, but I figured I could swing it. It was in familiar area, close to my favorite repair shop, and walking distance from the 14 Mile/John R shopping district. I started gathering my paperwork and applied, and to my slight surprise, I was approved!

I immediately started to pack, gathering up all but what I would need to survive for 2 weeks, assuming that when my paycheck was deposited, i would have the money to pay security deposit, cleaning deposit, & 1st month rent. My dad sent me enough for the deposits to hold it, just in case. That money cleared on Monday, but I go straight from work to chorus on Mondays, so I didn't have time to take care of it. By Tuesday, I figured since my paycheck would be in my account the next day, I would just wait ONE more day, and take care of everything at once. BIG MISTAKE!
'"
I go into the rental office, pay stub copies and debit card in hand, and said with a huge grin, "I'm ready to sign!" The associate I had been dealing with gave me a sad, pitying look and said, "you see those guys at the table? They're signing the lease for that apartment right now."

I was devastated. I had my heart set on this place, most of my life already packed up, and even pointed out the amenities of the neighborhood to my kids (including the candy store across the street). She politely offed the rest of the list of available apartments, which I had already been through. She suggested one just up the road that, while not the 2-bedroon I was looking for, had more square footage, and might suit me well. I reluctantly took the building key and went to look.

I was...impressed. It wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but it WAS bigger, better closet space, MUCH better kitchen, and it was a 1st floor, so moving in would be easy. Best of all - $25/mo cheaper and walking distance from work. As I walked the apartment, I started envisioning how the furniture would work, how I would work the kids in there for the weekends with only 1 bedroom, and thought to myself, "Y'know, this just might work!"

I went back to the rental office and signed the papers right then, without even looking at the other (slightly more expensive) apartments she suggested. I pick up the keys this Thursday, move boxes myself Thursday & Friday, and gather the troops to help me with furniture on Saturday.

I know, moving isn't necessarily such a huge deal to most, but (aside from a brief stint or 2 at my sister's place) I've lived in the same home for 13 years. This is more than just changing where I am. This is changing a lot of WHO I am. I have been a homeowner for 13 years. Now I'm a renter. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but it's taking some adjusting of my own self-worth and re-evaluation of my perspective on things.

I have almost half my lifetime of memories wrapped up in that broken-down house. It's tough to let some of them go.

...Others, however...good riddance! I'm moving up, moving on...MOVING OUT!

(pictures eventually, I hope)

Everything's Up To Date in Kansas City (part 1)...

It's been about 2 months since I got back from attending my first Barbershop Harmony Society International Convention, so recalling the details may be tricky. I'm hoping as I write this, the memories will start flowing so I can look back at this and reminisce. I CAN say this: it was the single best vacation I have ever taken - bar none.

Ever since I joined the Barbershop Harmony Society, I've wanted to make the trek to the city de l'année for an international convention. I have spent the past 8 years hearing tales of late-night tagging with gold-medalists, mind-blowing chorus performances, attributes of various hosting cities. Sadly, with 2-5 jobs at a time, wife, kids, and the idea impressed on me by aforementioned responsibilities (well, one in particular) that such a hiatus from same would be unforgivably selfish and highly irresponsible.

Well, things have changed a LOT. Now that I have a job with vacation time, scheduled time with my kids every other weekend, and no wife to nag me about such a decision, the only obstacle was the cost. My dad had always said that she'd pay for my registration to my first International convention. Still, hotel, travel, food, and incidentals can pile up pretty damned quickly - especially the travel - and I wasn't about to ask my dad to foot the bill for those. Thankfully, the stars seemed to align this year. My good friend and former bass of my quartet works for Delta Airlines and got me a an UNBELIEVABLE deal on a plane ticket, a fellow barbershopper was offering an extra registration and AIC (Association of International Champions) Show ticket for a great deal, and best of all, my dad happens to live in Topeka, a mere hour's drive from KC. My out-of-pocket would be very minimal AND I could combine it with a visit to see my dad and her partner, Mary!

EPIC WIN!

The amazing deal my friend, Dave, got me on my plane ticket had one caveat: I had to fly 'standby', which gave no garantee I'd get a seat for the early flights I wanted. Still, as I had taken a 5-day weekend for the purpose, I wasn't terribly concerned. I packed my carry-on with my laptop, MP3 player, a book, snacks, a couple magazines, everything I''d need for a day camped out in an airline terminal. Awesome Girlfriend drove me to the airport nice and early, and I easily got on my preferred flight. I took advantage of the in-flight wi-fi for $5, just for the novelty of updating my Facebook from 30k feet. I landed in KC, and my dad picked me up. We stopped at Arby's for lunch, got almost all the way home, when she realized she left her purse there. Minor annoyance (since it was still there when we returned for it), but it gave us more time to chat on the drive.

Once we got to her place, I realized my ticket for the AIC show said it was for THAT NIGHT, so she let me borrow her car and drive back to KC again. The show was great. Seeing the best of the best and a reunion of Rural Route 4 and the Suntones just blew my mind.

After the show, I headed back to the Headquarters Hotel to check out the scene there. I quickly bumped into my good friend, Chelsea, who, at the tender age of 22, is already a seasoned vet at these things and knows everybody. She introduced me too a couple big-big wigs in the Society, then took me up the the Rainbow Room (the hospitality room for the gay and gay friendly set in the Society). I met a bunch of great guys and ended up hanging out with Chelsea and a guy from California, named Craig, for much of the night. He offered to let me crash on his floor, so I wouldn't have to cut my evening short (and sober) to drive back to Topeka (and subsequently drive back to KC the next day). We all sang tags, mingled, drank, and finally finished with nachos at 2am at a downtown diner before hitting the hay.

Up next (hopefully soon) Part Deux: Friday Chorus Contest!

Business at the Speed of Life...

CRIPES! 5 MONTHS since my last entry?! Why didn't you guys yell at me or something?!

Okay, it wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Even now, I'm too busy to write a blog worthy of my usual wit and verbosity. But I WILL give you the excuses why I HAVEN'T written lately:

Working at the pharmacy takes up the 9-5, Monday through Friday.

Monday nights I direct my chorus. With summertime gigs, a contest in October, and a chorus show to coordinate by early November, I can't afford to miss.

Since about July, my Tuesday & Thursday nights are occupied with rehearsals for Grosse Point Theater's production of The Music Man (yea, those of you I went to high school with are SOOO surprised). THIS time, however, I get to play the OTHER role I wanted. Instead of Harold Hill, I finally get to play Jacey Squires, the tenor in the barbershop quartet!

Wednesday nights, I drive the hour to Flint and back to have dinner with my kids, which gets me home about 9:30pm. The drive, I can do without, but worth every mile of it for them.

Every other weekend, often starting of Friday after work (if possible) I spend with my kids.

Sunday nights are quartet rehearsal. Again, contest in October, and we hope to make a dent in the top 6, but only if we work at it.

Take all that, add typical household chores, trying to save my house form becoming a foreclosure statistic, the occasional chorus and quartet gigs, my first Barbershop Harmony International Convention (more on that another time...hopefully), and trying DESPERATELY to have some time with Awesome Girlfriend, leaves no time for blogging, Dr. Jones!

On top of that, after most of those things clear out of my schedule about early November, that gives me maybe a week before holiday chorus gigs kick in and the usual Christmas melee starts!

Anyway. That's why I haven't blogged. The dog didn't eat my homework. I didn't forget the due date of the assignment. I'm not turning in a note from my parents with a badly forged signature (though my mom's was always easy to fake). I just haven't had time!

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

(pant, pant, pant - DEEEP breath!)

Now, to start the marathon sprint to the new year!

Thankful

(The following was written about 4 months ago and never finished. I promise I’ll try to get to a blog about what was a wonderfully mild-mannered and fun Christmas blog…as soon as I can recall the details again!)

Well, here it is. Christmastime again, and as usual, my holiday schedule is packed tighter than Santa’s bag. Also, again, I find myself sitting in a car repair shop waiting for my mobile Fortress of Solitude to be made right. Thankfully, this year, it’s preemptive maintenance rather than catastrophic recovery. Thanks to the new job keeping me from slowly sinking into financial quicksand (thought not quite emerging yet), I’ve been able, with the help of the generosity of friends and family, to keep my means of conveyance in quite workable shape.

It all began with Thanksgiving (sigh of sweet reminiscence). My dad and her partner, Mary, drove all the way up from Topeka to spend the holiday with my family. It was one of the best weeks of my year. Not just spending time with my dad, but sharing many of my proudest achievements with her while she was here. First and foremost, on her first full day here, I took her to my barbershop chorus rehearsal. This is the single proudest achievement I’ve made this year – becoming the director of not just a musical ensemble (my lifelong goal), but a barbershop chorus. It’s the kind of ensemble I know would my dad could relate to best. I was able to show off a bit of what I had done with them, and even better, I chose that night to try an experiment with the voicing. It worked out great and my dad and her partner, Mary, beamed with amazement and pride. I was on cloud 9! Not only did I manage to improve the sound of the chorus, but impress my dad and Mary, both seasoned barbershop aficionados!

The next day, my dad offered to get me a new set of tires for my car. I hadn’t realized that the worn ball joint had made the inner edge of my tires smooth as an android’s bottom. The plan was to do some car-trading to see that I got to work on time, but as I had apparently left the dome light on in my car the night prior (which I have NEVER done) and would have to jump it (which took quite a while), I took the day to deal with my car and spend some time with dad and Mary. I was so taken aback by my dad’s generosity, I insisted that the tires be the only repair she pay for. Any others, I could handle in due time (and with due finances). After a lovely lunch at the Olga’s across the street, my horse had a new set of shoes and all that was left (of immediate needs) was to fix the rear suspension, ball joint, and alignment. I figured I’d be able to afford one soon and one later. Given that the slightest bump in the road would lead to a miles worth of bouncing that nearly made me seasick, I chose the suspension.

Thanksgiving itself was wonderful, for the most part. I watched the parade with Awesome Girlfriend while waiting for the ex to let me know when and how to connect with my kids for Thanksgiving dinner at my grandfather’s. By noon, I had no word as to their whereabouts, so I called and found that they had not gone downtown to watch the parade, as planned, but chose to stay in Flint due to not feeling well. Reasonable enough, but it would have been nice to know this sooner than noon, as it was an hour up and back to get the kids, starting Thanksgiving at least an hour later than originally planned.

Still, we arrived at my grandfather’s about 2:30 to the glorious aroma of not only Thanksgiving dinner, but one cooked entirely by my dad. The smell of a Keiser home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner had memories flooding back to me of my sister and I watching the Macy’s Parade on TV on the living room floor while ripping apart loaves of bread for the chestnut & sausage stuffing. The food was AMAZING, right down to the vegetarian version of the stuffing made especially for the kids. The dinner was a bit bumpy, as I had to fight with the boy to try anything. If it’s not pizza, burritos, or macaroni & cheese, he gets dramatic. He had one of his usual moody uproars (which he seems to save for company when he’s with me), and once again embarrassed me in from of my dad.

Still, the evening was a lot of fun, enjoying the holiday with family, some of whom had not spent a Thanksgiving together in probably 30 years or more!

"Get-It-Done Guy's 9 Steps to Work Less and Do More" Review to come.

I was contacted by (who I'm assuming is) Stever Robbins publicist about a week ago. Who knew ANYONE read MY blog, right? Anyway, she asked me if I would read and review Stever's new book, "Get-It-Done Guy's 9 Steps to Work Less and Do More".

I'm not familiar with Stever Robbins or his "Get-It-Done Guy" podcasts, so I did a little Googling (mostly to make sure it wasn't a scam). After that, I checked out the micro site she set up for it at getitdoneguynews.com. It all checked out, as I was impressed by the excerpts there. Not just the advice itself (most of which I knew already, but often just don't motivate myself to do), but the style in which it was delivered. I was impressed. The guy seems to write a lot like me...but...better.

Anyway, she's sending me a copy of the book, providing I review it. It's available tomorrow on Amazon.com, if you want to get a jump on me for it. You know how my time gets. Reading something other than traffic signs as they whiz by between jobs isn't something I often have time for.

For this, though, I think I can squeeze in some time. Hey, I'm not above being a media whore for free stuff. I can't afford principles like that these days. ;)

Status Quo is SORELY Underrated...

For years, I have been frustrated whenever my life has stagnated. Taking the next step, earning more money, becoming more professionally respected, trying to reach the presumed level of my peers, meeting what I assume are the expectations of those I love and respect, these have all kept me moving forward. What I've realized lately, is that these have been the most significant sources of stress in my life. In today's society, everyone's looking for the BBD (Bigger Better Deal). Acquiring more things, gaining more friends, making more money, looking better, have made life SO hectic and fast-paced that we take no time to appreciate what we have. By the time we do, we want the NEXT big thing. What ISN'T appreciated, it the contented status quo.

I was going to entitle this "contented stagnation", but the word 'stagnation' just has a negative connotation to it. 'Stagnation' implies ennui, malaise, and an inability to emerge from a given situation. That's not what I'm talking about. If a situation is frustrating, intolerable, or even just plain boring, it needs to be changed. What I'm talking about is looking at what you have, realizing that it's not only enough, but you're happy with it, and pausing for a while to enjoy what you have achieved.

Working at (a popular and busy coffee place), I see perfect examples of the victims of this kind of "BBD" thinking. Uptight, irritable, over-stressed, overbooked yuppies, zooming from place to place in their $50k+ automobiles, needing their over-priced triple lattes for the energy to maintain their overblown lifestyles, usually with the goal being to simply 'keep up with the Joneses'. They rarely take the time to get off their cell phones to even acknowledge a smile from another human being, let alone the luxuries they worked so hard to attain. Even their vacations are so booked to the rim and often interrupted or cut short by work or catastrophes of their own making, they don't take the time to enjoy them - just finish task A so they can get to task B, C, and D.

They come in a self-deluded swarm through the morning drive-thru on a daily basis, in a constant fog of their own existence, created by observing the same fog surrounding other people they wish to emulate or outdo. They become so obsessed with having the respect and approval of others for what they have, or for their perceived status, rather than who they are, all they know is improving their surroundings rather than their lives. The budding executive, trying to set himself up for that VP position and the extra $10k/yr with it, the stay-at-home mom in the Cadillac SUV with the Prada bag taking Johnny to karate practice, then a soccer game, then piano lessons in the hopes that she can pin her pride on him to supplant her disappointment in herself, the medical intern working like hell to finish so he can move into his specialty and get that BMW he's been dreaming of, while paying off his student loans for the next 30 years - they parade by me on a daily basis, like marathon runners grabbing a cup of water en route, heading toward a finish line they keep extending. Not every one of them, of course, but enough on a regular basis for me to be relatively certain I can recognize them when I see them.

Now, by no means am I perfectly content with my current income, the shape my house is in, or even several other parts of my life. I'm FAMOUS for trying to fit more than 24 hours into a day between 4-5 jobs at a time, surviving on 4 hours sleep for several days of the week, and burning my candle at several ends in hopes to make this repair to my home, that improvement, get my kids what they want for Christmas, or more often, just to make sure by cell phone doesn't get shut off. I'm every bit as much a victim of the Rat Race as anyone in today's society, and I won't make excuses that it's always "just to survive". It's just as much to maintain the lifestyle I'm accustomed to as the ad exec in the Jaguar yelling through his cell phone at his assistant while he snatches his large quad-shot French vanilla latte from my hand without a word and speeds off. We all like a certain level of comfort, and work like Hell and do whatever we can to maintain it, and I'm not the one to say one lifestyle is any better than the other.

What I have learned over the past several years, however, is that while moving forward and making progress toward a goal is necessary for us to grow as human beings, affording us the opportunity to succeed or fail and learn from both experiences, pausing the rat race for a while and stopping to appreciate the progress you've made is even more important. Now, I don't have the luxury of taking a week's or even a few consecutive days' vacation, but I have intentionally taken a day off each of the past 2 weeks where I don't have a major commitment (well, at least not for most of the day), sacrificing some financial stability for more emotional contentment.

What I've realized in my moments of calm, is that I really have it pretty good. Oh, I know I've praised my wonderful friends and family a lot here, and rightfully so, but what I realized this time was what I've created for myself: I have a house, a working car that is comfortable and practical, furnishings that not only are comfortable and (mostly) clean, but fit my style and personality, two computers with accessories that do exactly what I need them to, two wonderful and brilliant children who are making great progress in all areas of their lives, a wonderful girlfriend that appreciates and understands me, I'm keeping my bills under control, not digging myself further in debt, and most importantly, clearing the fog once in a while to see it all in perspective and those around me that help make it happen. Much of this is through the help of friends and family, yes, but not without my own hard work, as well. Because I realize this, I'm happy and contended most of the time. Yes, I work A LOT, but I work to live. I don't live to work.

This started out with a clear purpose, but I've once again gotten long-winded and redundant. Suffice it to say, that despite my current humble professional and financial status, I'd like to offer what little advice may be valuable to the rich, successful, and powerful: take the time to step back, breathe, and appreciate it. For a while - be it 5 weeks, 5 days, or even 5 minutes - stop trying to get more, be more, or do more. For a brief time, block out some time in your iPhone planner to live.

That's what I just did, and I'm a lot happier for it.

...and now, back to the Rat Race...

September Song...

Okay, well, ALMOST September.

I just couldn't come up a decent song title or lyric. Meh.

Anyway, after getting a long-overdue haircut, I'm sitting here at the Bigby Coffee in Madison Heights, having intentionally and very deliberately blocked out some "me" time. Stopping here wasn't necessarily on my intentionally non-existent agenda for the day, but I haven't chosen this place as my "decompression" zone since I started working at Starbucks. Not because the coffee's necessarily any worse, it's just no longer on my way to work. I used to stop in 2-3 times a week before work for a few minutes of solitude, coffee, and blogging. When I left that job, my route no longer took me by here. Still, after more than a year, as I walk in, I'm greeted like Norm at Cheers by Travis (awesome barista guy), grab my usual cranberry/orange muffin and coffee, and proceed to catch up with him on life, work, women, and the usual guy talk.

I missed this place, and I didn't even realize it!

I've been working at Starbucks nearly 40 hours a week, in addition to my other jobs, for nearly 4 months straight, and it was starting to wear. I finally decided to be a bit selfish and request 3 days off this week. Needless to say, I'm scheduled for a full shift every OTHER day this week, but at least I can plan one day of of actual rest and/or personal productivity this week.

Anyway, a lot has happened over the past 2 months, but nothing that has really made any huge difference in my direction, attitude, or social or financial status....which isn't bad. I've had no major catastrophes, no major epiphanies, no major financial windfalls, no unexpected large expenses. "No gnus is good gnus," as the puppet says.

As for the minutia that has maintained this life balance over the past few months:

My minivan started chugging and wasn't freeway-capable (which is NOT acceptable with my kids an hour's drive away and my directing gig 40 minutes away), but after some running around to a few different places and a few days of bussing to work, it was back in good working order for under $200. Still needs some work, but as usual, the non-immediate concerns will have to wait for the finances to improve (if ever).

The job I interviewed for (referenced in my last blog) seemed to fizzle, as they wanted to have their new software up before hiring, and that seems to have no foreseeable completion date. When I e-mailed them after 3 weeks with no word, it was suggested I keep looking for a better job, but they WILL call me when things are a 'go' and hope I'm available. However, after a talk with the president/regular Starbucks customer of mine yesterday, they've changed their plan of implementation for new hires, and it looks as if she may want me to start training! It's not carved in stone yet, but it seem I may be starting a new job with better pay soon! Still, I'm not counting my chickens before they've hatched. I've turned into the boy who cried "JOB!"

Foreclosure may be looming for me, as it has been for a while, but for now I still have my house. I'm hoping the new job will let me catch back up, let me avoid giving up my house, and eventually help me start fixing it up. Even if the worst should happen, though, I know I have places to go. It's my goal not to ever have to take advantage of my friends or family's good nature and generosity again, though, as I prefer the comfort of knowing it's there rather than ever utilizing it.

In the meantime, I am still proud to say that I'm still one of the 80% of Americans who hasn't needed to take advantage of a government program to survive. I appreciate they exists and don't begrudge those that need them. Personally, I'd just rather make it on my own as much as possible. I wouldn't be able to boast about that, though, were it not for the love, generosity, and consideration of my dad, sister, grandfather, girlfriend, and scores of other friends and family who have come to my aid - particularly over the past year and a half.

My Awesome Girlfriend FINALLY closed on her new house last week! It's a major step up from the apartment she was renting and a mere 2 blocks from its location! This made moving (relatively) simple. Her parents are helping a TON with getting it cleaned, painted, landscaped, repaired, and such, while I chip in with some muscle, elbow grease, word of encouragement, and a minivan capable of hauling several moving boxes at a time. This place is perfect for her in every conceivable sense, is looking better every day, and I'm IMMENSELY proud of her! Oh, and best part? Central Air. Ahhhhhhh... :)

The chorus directing gig is getting better every week. I'd love to have a bit more time to help with planning and such, but a) I don't want to overstep my bounds, and b) I just don't have the time to put much more into it than the rehearsals & gigs themselves and the occasional learning track. Still, the guys are getting better every week, and I'm getting chills more and more from chords locking, dynamics swelling, and REAL barbershop sound! I love the Livingston Lamplighters!

So that's the most of my life the last couple months. Hopefully, I can find some time to blog about more introspective, philosophical, and interesting topics next time. That, however, would require the time not only to sit and write, but the time to think without distractions, which is, as always, VERY rare these days. Till then, I'll keep on keepin' on, appreciate the little things, stay solution-oriented, and as always, stay true to myself!

Summertime, and the livin' is...CRAZY!

Well, the main reason I haven't posted in a while is that shortly after my last blog, we lost a few people at Starbucks and I was working 40 hours there, 12 hours at Blockbuster, 2 hours (plus 1.5 hours in commute) directing a chorus, 1/2 hour giving a trombone lesson, 2 hours at quartet rehearsal, and 3 hours (plus 2 hours commute) for my weekly dinner with my kids. That's 63 hours out of my week, plus household chores, miscellany, and trying to see my girlfriend in there, somewhere!

Oh, did I mention? I'M A CHORUS DIRECTOR!!!! I can't believe I haven't mentioned it yet, but about 3 months ago, I got the position of Director for the Livingston Lamplighters Barbershop Chorus! The pay's not much (basically enough to justify the 2 hours and pay for the gas there and back), but then again, barbershop chorus directing gigs rarely pad the wallet. Mostly, this scratches my professional itch - and does it EVER!

As a music educator, I appreciate a challenge. That's not to say the chorus is bad - far from it! They are, however, small in numbers, varied in musical background, and have not had a lot of exposure to the nuances of the style, its traditions, or its evolution over the past several decades. That's where I come in.

I have always most enjoyed coming to a group with room for improvement, connecting with them, and getting them to understand what I'm looking for. From there spawns an avalanche of progress. I've always said that with a directing job, I'd rather take a small, budding program and build it, rather than a huge successful program and try to maintain it. It's more fun, more satisfying, and let's face it, MUCH less pressure. When there's no where to go but up, there's nothing to look but good.

What I liked best about the Lamplighters after visiting their rehearsal for the first time, was the camaraderie and brotherhood they shared. That's the benefit of a small group. Beyond that, they all had a visible passion for singing. They may not have had the guidance to fine-tune it or the background to interpret it, but it's much easier to refine passion than to try and create it. As I listened, I heard things I liked and things I didn't. Some chords would ring beautifully, some vowels would line up wonderfully, while certain phrasing and tempos were awkward and lyrical meaning lost. The entire time, I sat back and thought, "I can FIX this! I have the ability! I can make them better...stronger...MORE MUSICAL!"

As I began directing them, I started to realize more the responsibilities and work that would go into this job. The first month or so, I stumbled a few times: I wasn't as prepared as I should have been, I allowed too much talking during rehearsal, my conducting left MUCH to be desired, etc. Thankfully, after a few tips from the baritone of my quartet and one of the members (and former director), I started to find my footing.

My debut as director was for the senior living complex that offers us the rehearsal space. My girlfriend made it a point to drive 45 minutes from home to be there for me, showing enthusiastic support for my endeavor, which meant the WORLD to me. The song selection was a bit awkward, random, and dated, and the script was full of groan-worthy puns, but for a mid-season barbershop show with a brand new director, that's par for the course. We sounded solid, with few noticeable gaffes. I was pleased.

Since then, things have only gotten better. They're ringing chords more often, they're working on the parts on their own more diligently, and they're starting to sound more like a solid barbershop chorus, rather than just a group of guys singing barbershop songs fairly well. They're learning my conducting style, even as I refine my own technique to match their response. They're watching more closely, emoting more, expanding dynamics, and starting to FEEL what they sing. It's truly beautiful to watch their progress week to week.

I wish I could make a living out of this and make it full-time, but sadly, I gotta pay the bills otherwise. Enter: a new job opportunity!

A regular at my Starbucks was so pleased with my demeanor, she asked for my resume! After researching the company, I find out she's the president! I've had 2 interviews and am awaiting a final decision, which should be along within a week or so. I don't want to say too much at the risk of jinxing it, but I truly hope this comes through. My current employment situation has me barely hanging on, and all it takes is one catastrophe with the car or some other unexpected bill to have me running to family for help. I just can't have that any longer. I'm beyond grateful to know that my family is willing to catch me when I stumble, but I'm 36, and shouldn't need the help. I love my jobs (usually), but they simply aren't enough to live on with any financial certainty.

So, as always, I'm on the financial precipice, but have enough good things going for me to keep me chipper. Life's all about balance. :)

Coming up: Fall district contest - Chorus? Quartet? Both? Neither? and a potential West Coast vacation!

525,600 Minutes....

My 36th Birthday. Usually on my birthday, I tend to mournfully recount the myriad accomplishments I HAVEN'T made to date: finishing my degree, obtaining a steady teaching job, becoming a well-known and well-paid drill designer, having a well-maintained and reasonably spacious house, etc. This depressing tradition is particularly observed on milestone birthdays - 5's and 10's, mostly - where I have particular goals set forth in the naivete of my youth. This year, however, given all that has happened, I tend to be focusing on the aspects that actually matter. I have a job (3+, actually, depending on how you count), two increasingly brilliant, talented, and impressive kids, a house I'm make more and more my own every day, a WORKING car (knock wood), scores of absolutely wonderful friends whom I cherish, and an amazing girlfriend who understands and adores me every bit as much as I do her.

As happy as I am, on the whole, and as well as things are going for me now (which I'll recount later), something's missing today. The one thing missing to make this happiest of birthdays is the traditional (if exceedingly corny and often ill-timed) early morning call from my mother, singing "Happy Birthday" to me in a sappy, kid-like voice, followed by the long-winded recounting of the day of my birth.

My mother, Nancy Orton Keiser, passed away this Easter Sunday morning, April 4th, at the age of 65 . She died of congestive heart failure, which she suffered from several years back and recovered (mostly) from. It was likely a combination of factors - diabetes, asthma, sleep apnea, arthritis, and being a good 300 lbs overweight, among other factors - that led to this latest episode being fatal. She died in my grandfather's house, with him at her side. It was quick, sudden, and she didn't suffer.

My mother was the most loving person I ever knew. She would always try and help in whatever way she could - for anyone. No, she was not always encouraging. She didn't always tell you what you wanted to hear, and would often make snap-judgments based on little information. As a child, whenever I saw a TV commercial for something I wanted, she'd say, "Well, save your pennies!", resulting in a disappointed pout and "hrumph!" from me. To this day, proudly painted on the change jug on my dresser is the phrase, "Mom always said, 'Save your pennies!'"

Still, her motivation behind whatever she said was ALWAYS to help. She had a unique way of distilling situations into quotable catch phrases and cliches, which one of my mothers friends referred to at her funeral as "Nancyisms". Some wholly inapplicable to the situation, but many times, offering a clarity of perspective that would allow for a fresh approach to a situation.

It was this willingness to listen to people and help them deal with their own problems (not so much the snap-judgment part), that has formed a great deal of how I relate to my friends and those I love. It's that inexhaustible, unflappable, unconditional love and willingness to help others, despite your own problems, that I have tried to emulate and has made me who I am. This is likely the biggest part of my mother that I will miss. Not always her help or advice, but the spirit and pure love behind it.

I credit her most of all for my involvement in music. Not just my LOVE of music, which I get equally from both of my parents, but my motivation to LEARN about music and create it, rather than just appreciate it. This was one area of my life where her support was absolutely unquestionable. I remember being maybe 5 years old and her trying to teach me to play our old electric organ in the living room. I didn't have the patience to endure much instruction at that age, but she taught me where 'C' was on a keyboard and where the notes went from there...and that started everything. My first music theory lesson.

This is my first birthday without her. Even as I type this, I'm tearing up, which is rather odd for me. In the month or so since she passed, I haven't allowed much time for myself to feel her absence or cry over it. You all know (or can read in my previous posts) how insanely busy I am. That, combined with the pride I take in being people's emotional 'rock', have forced me to push my feelings about my mother's passing aside for the time, and do what needs to be done, which is to be there for my family, continue to work my insane schedule to pay the bills, and fulfill the obligations I have to myself and others, like the quartet, chorus, and friends.

I don't resent this. This is not a feeling I want to deal with. I feel it's selfish, coming from myself. I'm MORE than understanding helping OTHERS deal with their feelings and being there to support THEM, but I'm not great at expressing my negative emotions to others. It's not their problem to deal with, and I don't want to burden anyone else with my problems. Sure, I'll whine and bitch about work, cars, computers, and other insignificant situations that others can easily relate to, and yet feel no real responsibility to fix, but emotional crises are different. Most of my friends are VERY supportive and sympathetic and want to help. I don't want to put them in a situation where their help may be ineffective, inadvertently dismissed, or in a moment of weakness, irrationally resented. Believe me, I know how much that stings.

In the past year I have had my car die (several times), lived in a gutted, filthy house with no heat or hot water, had my manhood, character, and parenting called into question MULTIPLE times, doubled my workload, had my income cut by more than half, nearly lost my house, had to swallow my pride and accept charity on more occasions than I am comfortable with, even walked 4 miles in the freezing rain on Christmas Day before going to work at a barely-above-minimum-wage job. All of these are insignificant. I didn't even consider these things over the past several months. This year, I lost my mother. I lost her ill-timed, sleep-interrupting calls at the crack of dawn 'just to talk'. I lost her oversimplification of complex issues to reach a conclusion that had no real world application - or often even vague similarity - to the situation. I lost her meddling into my business and relationships to try and get everyone to see things her way. I lost her obnoxious, cheesy references to embarrassing incidents from my childhood and their "supposed" relevance to my problems today.

Most of all, I lost the absolute love behind every single one of those maddening habits. As much as she drove me absolutely bananas, I NEVER felt unloved by these acts. She always had love behind it - and I knew it.

I'll get to the HAPPY birthday stuff later. Right now, I'm penciling some time into my schedule to grieve for a bit.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'....

You get busy, preoccupied, bombarded with work, car troubles, gigs, and the occasional drama, you blink and the next thing you know - *POOF* - 3 months go by and you haven't written a blog!

Well, you can thank my dad for reminding me to keep all of you who don't stalk me on Facebook up to speed on my life (such as it is). This was SO much easier when I could plan an hour of "me time" in most days before working at my predictably scheduled desk job. As it is, this is the first day off I haven't booked solid in MONTHS it seems!

Okay (deep breath). We have a lot of things to cover, so let's get down to business... Meeting is called to order! (BAM!)

Most of the past 3 months have been sucked up in trying to get my money-pit of a car dealt with. It's working - then it's not - then it is... UGH! Basically, this was an extension of all of the problems with it that I covered in the LAST blog: mostly overheating. Without going into the details of that POS I'd rather forget, I'll just say that nearly $2000 in repairs, lost wages, bus fare, and bottles of Excedrin after it all started, just to attempt to just get it safe to drive, I dumped it off on someone who can do something with it.

Once I decided to get rid of it, the guy I had been paying to put all the parts that he THOUGHT he needed to fix it into it offered me $200 for the whole thing. The day I'm ready to sell it, he chickens out, in what was likely a chance to talk down my price. "Fuck it," says I, and head to CraigsList. I list it for $500 and sold it that day to a guy who owns a shop, can fix the problem, and give it to his teenage daughter. I got about 20 calls and dozens of e-mails on it and I probably could have gotten more, but I just wanted it out of my life. I got 2.5x what I was planning on getting for it, and it went to the best of all possible homes: a teenager who needs a simple, safe junker that her dad can fix right and for cheap.

Next (actually, first), I needed to find a replacement. After scouring CraigsList for deals, I found that the only cars in the Detroit Metro Area available that DIDN'T need major repairs BEFORE they were drivable, all cost at least $1500. That was assuming I could find a way to BFE (read: outer suburbs), with no working car, to even LOOK at them. Thankfully, my friend Jenelle's husband knew a guy who was getting rid of one of his cars - a 1994 Pontiac Trans Sport with 185k miles on it. I wasn't keen on owning a gas-guzzling minivan with so may miles, but the price was right - $800. If it was running and ready to go, I was in.

My friend Lou drove me out there to look at it. It was in IMMACULATE shape (for a 16-year-old car with nearly 200k miles), and owned by a retired GM engineer who mostly used it for road trips to Florida (highway miles, good). I only got to drive it on the bumpy back dirt roads of Clarkston, but it seemed solid. Regardless, it ran, no weird noises, and all the gauges seemed to be in the right place.

My cousin (who I hadn't actually seen in person for over 2 decades) had been following my Facebook feeds about my car woes, and being grateful for getting back in touch with her and providing a family connection and support during her time of need, she offered me the money to cover the car. I had initially refused, as I had hoped my old car would be repaired after the last round and didn't want to take advantage of or burden my family with my problems, but when that didn't work, I reluctantly took her up on her offer. Once again, I am in awe of the wonderful friends and family I have accrued over the years, and hope to perpetuate this positivity and sense of selflessness. Since I can't make a difference monetarily, I just 'pay it forward' in every other way I can think of.

As I drove my new car home last Wednesday, I noticed a slight wobble coming from the back end. It didn't seem severe, but I decided to get it looked at. Thursday and Friday I worked both jobs and I had the kids for the weekend, so I planned on taking it in today (Tuesday). Well, after taking off to drop the kids home on Sunday, the tire exploded on the freeway. I pull over, instruct the kids to stay in their seats, and assess the damage... "Hmf. Just change the tire. No problem."

Well, in a standard sedan, no, but with an under-mounted spare with some weird gear system to release that I had no clue as to access - yes, problem. I called a tow truck. They responded quickly, let me watch the process carefully in case I needed the spare again, and had me on my way a scant 40 minutes (and $45) after the initial hobble to the shoulder.

All was well, however the brakes didn't seem to escape unscathed. I crept along at a snail's pace to the nearest exit and called the ex to come meet me to get the kids. The kids and I piled out at a Meijer to wait for their mother and sat in the book section, reading - Courtney read Dr. Seuss aloud, Liam read one of the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" books, and I started Stephen Colbert's "I Am America (And So Can You)".

The next day, after limping my car to work, I limped to a shop Lou had HIGHLY recommended, to get the car looked at. They gave me their wi-fi password so I could use my laptop while I waited, and were exceedingly friendly, up-front, and honest. They repaired the severed brake line, replaced the blown tire with a solid used one, and gave the whole thing a good 'once over' to warn me of potential problems. They even ran the diagnostic computer on it. They ran down every part of the bill in detail with me, in case I had any questions or concerns. All tolled, it took about every penny left in the "Murphy's Law" fund I had expected to pay for an $800 car, but no more. For this I got a clean bill of (immediate) health for the car and a good does of peace of mind! I was back on the road again!

Anyway, the long and not-so-short of it, is that I have a bright red 1994 Pontiac Trans Sport SE that runs beautifully parked in my driveway now!

(FYI - this is NOT my driveway!)

There are an ass-load of other things that have happened in the past month, including a quartet gig at a REAL gentleman's club (tuxes, brandy, and cigars, not strippers, kamikaze shots, and venereal diseases), an invitation to the first Michigan Harmony Brigade, becoming the director of a barbershop chorus, and PLENTY more, but I'll get to those when I have more time (hopefully sooner than 3 months). I figured those stories would all be playing in the background of the transportation debacle, so I should hit that one first.

And later....the rest of the story(ies)...

X-mess 2009...

Fair warning: The following blog is an epic-length tome of chaos & woe, but not with a self-pitying, whiny intent. This simply documents the past month leading up to a scrumbled & frantic Holiday season. After all you are about to read, rest assured that I am not nearly as panicked and downtrodden as the story may lead you to believe...

"Holidays are joyful. There's always something new..."

Well, that Karen Carpenter lyric is HALF true, anyway.

The Holiday Season is ALWAYS a flurry of activity, mad dashes to the store, unexpected catastrophes, scurrying from gathering to gathering, and financial frustration, but this year has been a DOOZY! This doesn't even come CLOSE to the car wreck of two Christmas Eves ago, of course, but rather than being a single, terrifying event like the one that etched that year as "The Worst Christmas Ever", this has been a Chinese Water torture of hits that, at first glance, could plunge me into the depth of despair. However, upon reflection, each maddening setback has had its own silver lining. Still, just when I think I'm about to catch up..."there's always something new."

First off, to catch up on the last blog, I did manage to cobble together the back door threshold of the house and plug up some of the holes in the house, just in time for the cold weather to set in. With the help of the reciprocating saw my sister left behind when she moved to L.A., I got to explore my mechanical, manly side by doing some work with nails, screws & wood to make a sturdy foundation for the threshold, replaced some rotted wood, and allay some of my self-consciousness about home repair. All the bending, kneeling, and physical exertion left me PLENTY sore for a few days, but the good, productive kind of sore. In the end, it ain't pretty, but it'll do until I research some county home improvement loans and will save me a LOT on my heating bill.

I mentioned unexpected car repairs in my last blog. Well, I shouldn't have jinxed myself. The main cause of my holiday woes this year has been based on my car. My heat's always been a bit weak in my 98 Cavalier, and the temp gauge rarely goes into the "normal" range. I thought little of this, but the guys at my oil change place suggested a radiator flush should do the trick, as there was a TON of gunk in the coolant system.

Now, I bought this from a fairly green grease monkey, who obviously bought it as junk and fixed it up. The body was in great shape, but other than a good repair on the head gasket, he seemed to skimp a bit on or totally ignore the other repairs. The trunk latch was tricky from the get-go, and is now stuck shut (better than open, I suppose), some of the gauges would flip out on occasion, the check engine light was on more than off, the suspension left MUCH to be desired (especially on the near lunar, crater-filled surface of Detroit area roads), and the "theft deterrent system" didn't always like my key and would shut off the fuel for a few minutes from time to time when I'd try to start it, among other things, but the engine sounded strong and it got from A to B quite well...until I got the radiator flush.

First off, since my car was recommended for the more expensive (yet completely overrated & unnecessary) DEXcool fluid, it cost me $30 more than the standard flush. They then charged me $30 MORE to flush my heater core, which I found out later was ridiculous, as the standard flush should do that. After $90, the heat was little, if any, better. I then started talking to a friend and customer at Blockbuster.

This guy has worked at the Murray's Discount Auto Parts store next to my Blockbuster for years. He's tricked out his own show car, which is a late-90s Cavie, as well. He's certified up the wazoo in all sorts of repairs and diagnostics for cars and knows my car model inside and out, top to bottom - literally. I had him look at it.

Apparently, the flush broke the nub off the thermostat. We replaced it, as well as a bent piece that housed it (likely something the seller didn't bother to replace - just added more gaskets), and hoped that would be the end off it. After a VERY minimal charge for labor, and a lot of headaches getting the parts, after a week or so, it was done and we hoped for the best that that would be all.

At this point, I was feeling okay. Working around his schedule to get the car to him, bumming rides from people while it was there, & driving to Hell & gone to find the parts on the dirt cheap was a hassle, but I had just sold my precious F-rotor trombone to pay for my kids' Christmas presents, and so far, the extra money was covering it. Even when I was presented with a $200 shut-off notice for my water bill (which I haven't been receiving), the trombone money was just enough to cover it all. I drove the car for a day for a day, did some holiday shopping, got my son's Wii and some other odds & ends, figuring the car was fine to get me through the holidays now.

No such luck.

It stared to overheat. Thankfully, my ex was willing to drive my kids down to me for their weekend with me, and I told her I would MAKE a way to get them back, so she wouldn't have to make the hour drive here and back again for them. My repair guy's tight schedule forbade my leaving the car with him, and as it did okay for short jaunts of 10 minutes or so at a time, I made plans. My uncle was in from California, so the kids and I met him for lunch on Sat and he agreed to drive us all up. That way, we could all have a pleasant time catching up on the drive up, and he and I could have some grown-up talk on the way back.

Well, on the way to meet up with my uncle, the car overheated again, and the only way to get the parts in time for me to get the car back in time for my next shift was for me to get them while my uncle drove the kids home to Flint. So much for pleasant grown-up catching up. Nonetheless, my uncle agreed to get them home to Flint, while I picked up a new radiator, water pump, coolant, and other necessities to basically replace the WHOLE FUCKING COOLANT SYSTEM, as the nub of the thermostat that came loose in the radiator flush apparently ripped apart the water pump and got wedged in the radiator.

Thankfully, I had already bought my kids' presents, paid the overdue water bill, and after a loan from my mother, I was able to cover the cost. He did the repair and after a couple days of being stranded without a car (thankfully, during my days off), all was fine...for all of a day.

The day after getting my car back, I was running a few errands, stopped to pay my cell phone bill and was hit buy an older lady trying to pass me on the left - IN THE PARKING LOT! We get out and I assess the damage. She tries to convince me that there we 3 lanes in the parking lot (which is ridiculous, and even if there was, STILL doesn't explain passing on the left in a 'no parking zone'), and as I duck my head into the cell phone store to have them call the Hazel Park Police so we can make a report, she drives off!

My hub cap is shattered, my wheels misaligned, and a new leak has started under my car. I thought (hoped) it was just some of the coolant from the previous repair that had been shaken loose from pooling somewhere after the repair, so after talking with the cop for a minute, I continued to run my errands. The car seems fine for the remainder of my runs.

Later that night, I headed out to visit my old friend Jason and his family and pick up the last present for my little girl - a Zhu-Zhu pet, which Jason's BRILLIANT wife had the forethought to buy several of on Black Friday. About half way there, the temperature gauge started to spike and hit the danger zone. I exit the freeway in a panic. I only afforded myself a few minutes to visit before I was due at work. If my car is rendered immobile out in East Warren, I'll never make it to work on time! I let it cool down and started off again, hoping it was a glitch in the gauge I could get checked out later, but after 1/2 mile, it spiked again. I limped it as close as a mile and a half from Jason's house before I gave up, calling Jason to come rescue me. I called my work 5 times in the hour this all took, to say I'd be late, but no one would answer. Now I was fearing that not only would I not have a reliable means to GET to work, but I may not have the job AT ALL!

Jason pulled up about 10 minutes later, bought me McD's for dinner, and took me to his home, where I was cheerfully greeted by his wife and kids (my Godkids). After FINALLY reaching my place of employ on the phone and negotiating the night off to deal with this mess, I was able to spend a wonderful evening decompressing a bit with my oldest, dearest friend, his wife, my Godkids, a cold beer, and a movie.

The next day, I had to bus to 12 Mile & Schoenherr to try and coax my car closer to my repair guy - hopefully at LEAST to my Blockbuster, where it can cool down while I'm working and finish the trek to get repaired. While waiting for my connecting bus, I met an elderly lady who was having numerous health problems, was estranged from her family, laid off of work, and had lost faith in much of humanity. We talked for about an hour in the freezing cold, waiting for the bus. I was my usual, upbeat self and was more than willing to let her vent about her woes. We discussed, family, the rich, morals, values, religion - you name it. By the time the bus arrived, her mournful scowl had turned into a rejuvenated smile. She thanked me for the talk and restoring her faith that there are good people out there, after all. It really helped me put things in perspective amongst all the insanity and pitfalls I'd been facing and warmed my heart to bring some faith back to someone who was in a much more dire spot than myself. I bid her a merry Christmas, got off the bus, and thanked God for that opportunity.

After waiting in the cold 50 minutes for my connecting bus and 2 20-minute layovers too let my engine cool, I got to work just a bit late. After work, I dropped it at my repair guy's house and my ever vigilant and compassionate girlfriend drove me home.

At this point, it's December 23rd, and I'm not going to ask my repair guy to give up that kind of time with his wife and 2-year-old boy on Christmas for my sake. I tell him to get back to me after the holiday with a time line. This, of course, leaves me with no car for Christmas travel. The PLAN was to get the kids about 3pm on Christmas Eve, drive to my family's gathering in Monroe for the evening, and drive the kids back up to Flint for bed. I'd sleep on the ex's couch, spend the morning in Flint with her & the kids, and drive home. It SEEMED such a simple plan! As it was, the ex was, thankfully, generous enough to pick me up and have me and the kids spend Christmas Eve with her. I spent a nice (if at times awkward) evening with the kids & the ex and we put the gifts under the tree after the kids hit the hay.

The next morning was a flurry of of wrapping paper. We all played Wii Bowling & Star Wars - Force Unleashed on Liam's new Wii system, watched Courtney's Zhu-Zhu pet scurry and chirp around the living room, and had an enjoyable morning.

I'm a planner. When I'm confronted with obstacles, I don't whine, I overcome (okay, sometimes I whine THEN overcome). I wasn't going to ask the ex or any of her family to sacrifice 2 hours of their Christmas to cart my pedestrian ass from Flint to Hazel Park, so I booked a non-refundable Greyhound Bus ticket online from Flint to Pontiac for that afternoon. The online instructions said that the actual ticket was supposed to be printed at the ticket desk upon my arrival there. The ex dropped me at the Flint bus station, and as I approached the ticket counter, where they were supposed to print my ticket, I noticed it was closed for the holiday. I figured this was a formality, and the bus driver would have my info on some sort of manifest. When I asked, however, he said I could not board without a ticket. I explained my predicament and he coldly said there was nothing he could do. After several minutes of pleading, I opened my laptop and showed him my confirmation, which I had the forethought to print to a PDF on my desktop. Reluctantly, he let me board (whew!).

When I got to the Pontiac station, I figured I'd just catch a local bus down Woodward Ave to either my grandfather's house or Blockbuster for my shift at work. As I had no idea when the next bus was due (but assuming it would be within the hour) I plugged in my earbuds and started walking South toward my grandfather's, looking over my shoulder on occasion to be ready for a bus. After nearly 4 miles of walking in the cold, ice & rain, with my overnight bag in hand and computer bag on my shoulder, I approached my grandfather's, and as I'm about to cross Woodward to my grandfather's subdivision - you guessed it - the bus drove by. I laughed as I sloshed my way through the slush for the last block. I just got a nice 4-mile walk in, was bundled appropriately for the weather & had my blood pumping so I wasn't freezing, and got one last dose of my Christmas music on my MP3 player. Silver lining. :)

As I walked up to my grandfather's door, my uncle greeted me with a hug and a ham sandwich made from leftovers from the Christmas Eve gathering I had to miss. I had a lovely visit with my uncle, mom, & grandfather before my uncle offered to drive me to work. I had a nice, if busy, shift at Blockbuster and my coworker offered to drive me home.

My friend and repair guy called me the next day after looking at my car. The prognosis? Cracked heater core. Not an expensive part, but entails ripping apart the ENTIRE dash and much of the front seat to install. EASILY $500 in labor at any repair shop. He agrees to do it in exchange for a Wii. Thankfully, only a $200 cost, but still more than I have. The following day, I bus to work at Starbucks. My dear friend and duly crowned "Queen of Awesome", Marney, agrees to loan me the money to buy the Wii, as buying it myself would mean no house payment this month. She meets me at Starbucks on my lunch break to drive me to Target to get it.

A couple days later, repair guy calls me and says it's all done. He also cleaned off my dash before reinstalling it and aligned my wheels to the best of his ability. He also agreed to replace my wheel bearing, letting me pay for that repair after I got my paycheck that weekend. By New Year's Eve, I had my car fully operational, my mortgage paid, some of my chaos-related personal debts paid, and life mostly restored to some semblance of normal. I'll post pictures on my Flickr page when I can afford to restore my Pro account.

Throughout all of this, there were SEVERAL bright spots that helped keep me sane and brought several moments of joy to an otherwise crazy holiday season. The Flint Holiday Walk gig with my quartet, making my family's traditional fudge, visiting Santa, and decorating the tree with my kids, Christmas shopping with my girlfriend, driving with the Christmas music on the radio (when the car worked, anyway), all helped bring periods of serenity, peace, and normality to the season.

I didn't get much by way of tangible, wrapped gifts this holiday, but I DID get a couple. My girlfriend gave me a couple Detroit t-shirts she designed (awesomely talented graphic designer, BTW), a simple white T that says "Bazinga" (if you get it, kudos!), and coolest of all, a cigarette case with a Star Trek logo on it with a built-in lighter! She couldn't have hit the nail on the head better. Not a THING I asked for, yet so completely DEAD-NUTS-ON-THE-MONEY-PERFECT for me! She absolutely floored me.

It wasn't a huge material haul for me this Christmas, yet I am in NO way disappointed with that. My friends and family have bent over backward to see that I survived through this ordeal, as they have for the past 9 months or so. I don't need much. Most of what I need, I have. Everything else is just fluff. What I was given this Christmas was far better than any DVD, electronic gizmo, or toy. I was given the opportunity to see what wonderful friends and family I have, sacrifice to make my kids smile at Christmas, bring hope and faith to someone less fortunate by simply listening, revel in some off the simpler traditions of the season, and gain my perspective on how great my life truly is.

I'm George Bailey, and I'm the richest guy in town.