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.

Saturday, August 19, 2017


First of all, my heart goes out to the family of Glen Campbell for the loss of their husband, father, and friend.  Trust me, I know what he went through in those final times and I know what range of emotions all of his family lived through.

And what you didn't have to do.

While this no way is a criticism of his family, please don't read it like this, and I can already see what is going to happen next.  One of the children or his wife is going to write a book, they will go on all the morning talk shows, Oprah (does she still have a show?), and be all over the media with the book telling about what a sad thing it was and raising awareness for alzheimer's and that I guess that is a good thing, and hundreds of thousands of copies of the book will be sold.

But know this; I will bet the farm the family had 24 hour caretakers and nurses to help deal with the issue.

Okay, maybe I'm wrong, maybe the fam got together and did it themselves and if so and I ever meet them we can hug and cry and exchange stories, I just doubt it.  I doubt they got up in the middle of the night when Glen might wander or sleepwalk, I doubt they emptied many catheter bags, freed the blockage of poop with their fingers, lived in terror wondering what was going to go wrong next and wondering if they would ever snap and end up a small one column tragic story in the newspaper.

Nor will they, after three years, decide whether to go to a doc for sleeping pills, which I chose not to, but decide since living in legal land, to start smoking a hit of pot each evening to help sleep thru the night because the nightmares of waking and thinking their dad escaped while they slept  just wouldn't stop.

Bitterness is such an ugly emotion and normally I have none over what happened.  But watching this unfold... oh, well, such is life.  I did it and I survived it, lagom,  as the swedes use to say, it is enough.

I wonder how the Swedes say lagom now in aramaic?

Was planning to write this morning about the tearing down of statues of confederate soldiers and history, really a good blog, but somehow that Glen Campbell thing came out of nowhere and now, just don't feel like writing what I set out to write.  Not liking myself much right now.

Another time.