This is my second blog.

My first blog chronicled my experiences over three years caring for my dad as he lived through and finally died from Alzheimer's. That is the book that is for sale.

This second blog kind of chronicles of life, what it is like to start your life over in your late 50's. After caretaking, you are damaged, file bankruptcy, and the world doesn't care what you did. After 8 months of unemployment, you wake each day knowing the world doesn't want you. Finally you do find a job, 5 weeks before homelessness, but doing what you did 30 years ago and getting paid what you did 30 years ago. So this is starting over.

The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.

Monday, October 5, 2015


I only have two forks now.  I have no idea what happened to the third fork.  There are 3 table spoons and one teaspoon - or visa versa - I am not sure which is which.  Three butter knives.

These use to be a complete set of eight; a set that survived 30 years.  Now it slowly disappears.  I obviously don't host many dinner parties.

The years I took care of my dad, the moves, the great sell off of anything and everything I could and now  18 months since I rejoined the human race, I keep running into moments where I can't remember what happened to bowls dishes, or kitchen stuff.

I know, just go buy more, but three forks was great, it fit perfectly making sure I don't need to do dishes every day, but do have to do them every other day.  Give me eight and the sink will start piling up past the window sill.

Watched more JFK stuff today.  LBJ really had his butt saved when Kennedy died.  He was about to be indicted for serious corruption.  But instead he became prez, investigation dropped and before they buried Kennedy, he overturned the order printing the silver backed dollars and cancelled the plan to pull out of Vietnam,giving the bankers what they want and the military their war, and Wall Street their chance for billions and all it cost us was one president.

Oh, and 50,000 some young men, but they were mostly poor, not like there would be jobs for them much longer anyhow.

I can't wait till Friday when I can order a damn keyboard for this mini.

Did you know Kennedy's driver, 51 year old agent, died of a heart attack 6weeks prior to the big day?  No toxicology done.

You should really watch the TV coverage of that day.  The witnesses who saw the other shooters, the press conference with Parkland doctors describing the entrance wound on the front of the throat and the head.  Or the parking lot pictures of the bullet mark on the front windshield frame.

I am not sure why I am so fascinated by this story.  I don't idolize JFK, good prez, not much of a husband and another privileged rich kid from another privileged family.

But how the hell could George Herbert Walker Bush not remember where he was when he heard Kennedy was shot?????

So,joined a health club in May, get ringworm and a second fungal infection in June, spend two months trying over the counter stuff then finally go to the doctor who prescribed just enough medicine to get rid of 99% of the problem.  So now it has all come back and the doc won't renew the script without another visit.

But I found something that seems to be working - bleach.  Yep, apparently bleach is quite effective in killing fungal infections.

It is also quite painful -not too bad when you apply it, the real pain starts about 30 seconds later, when the real stinging starts.  But it usually stops after about 30 minutes of feeling like 1,000 killer bees are attacking over and over.

I hate doctors.

Truth at Last

Does a man ever give up hope, I wonder, --
Face the grim fact, seeing it clear as day?
When Bennen saw the snow slip, heard its thunder
Low, louder, roaring round him, felt the speed
Grow swifter as the avalanche hurled downward,
Did he for just one heart-throb -- did he indeed
Know with all certainty, as they swept onward,
There was the end, where the crag dropped away?
Or did he think, even till they plunged and fell,
Some miracle would stop them? Nay, they tell
That he turned round, face forward, calm and pale,
Stretching his arms out toward his native vale
As if in mute, unspeakable farewell,
And so went down. -- 'T is something, if at last,
Though only for a flash, a man may see
Clear-eyed the future as he sees the past,
From doubt, or fear, or hope's illusion free.