The Finish Line?

 
“Like a phoenix rising, I have risen from the flames” (1979, Dan Fogelberg) may be a bit dramatic to describe the way I feel, but there is definitely a difference after stopping the hormone deprivation treatment. My numbers are good, but there’s a sliver of trepidation in discontinuing the abiraterone (abby), as it shuts down the corruption that painted me into this corner in the first place. But the wheels were coming off. It was hard to regulate my emotions and the constant threat of breaking a bone was beginning to wear on me.
I’m still taking Lexapro. I started it when I began the cancer treatment. It dampens down the anxiety and depression that have been huge factors in my life. It slows and reduces my reactions to things that would otherwise trigger me, which would send me down a road I no longer wished to travel on. And I am sure that it helps B as much as it helps me.
I’ll continue with the Tamsulosin as it helps me pee (28 sessions of radiation in the swimsuit area can change things). Not to put too fine a point on it, but it could be a while before my libido returns or getting my junk working again. At this point, I’m just glad to have a future.
I talked with B, and we agreed that it was time, so after nearly 20 months of pills, poking and prodding, I messaged my care team and stopped last week, 4.5 months before I was scheduled to do so. I met with my oncologist, just the two of us in a room for 30 minutes, and he supports the decision wholeheartedly. So here I am.
When the cancer returned in 2024, I made quite a few changes to my life; retired 1.5 years early, went vegetarian, started doing more yoga, etc. I missed an opportunity to make those adjustments after purging it from my body in 2013. I’m not missing that chance again. And all it took was the threat of mortality.
I am getting my strength back. I swim a couple times per week. I lift weights a couple times per week. I walk and use yoga poses to stretch every day (I hesitate to say I practice yoga because the prospect of inner piece makes me anxious). And I’m meditating again, which was hard to do when smoking as much weed as I was. I stopped smoking the same day that I stopped the abby. Yesterday we swam in the morning and played tennis in the afternoon. The former is my favorite exercise now, maybe I should have waited a few more weeks before pursuing the latter.

In many ways, I feel like I’m finally getting my shit together. And it’s only taken 65 years! Looking back, I’ve been dog paddling in the deep end, barely surviving since tossing the booze on 12 Oct 86. When my son was in high school, I used to tell him, “Going through life with a bong in one hand and your dick in the other is not a recipe for success. If it was, we’d all be doing it”. That’s advice I should have followed myself. Of course, I am speaking metaphorically about wasting time, which I have done far too much of. Now, my goal is full remission and to fill my life with positivity & peace. With a little luck and effort, I may have balance as well, something I’ve only seen from a distance. Ideally, I have 20 more summers coming. There is a slight possibility that corruption could return in a decade, so I’m not wasting a second.
B is an amazing partner, providing unlimited support and being a sterling example of how to approach life, regardless of its snares and snags. Through her, I am beginning to see the beauty of it all and I want that perspective for myself. I am so lucky to have such a kind, smart and caring human to walk the path with me (come to think of it, maybe I’m walking with her). Prior to our retirement on 1 Jul 24, she worked long days in a demanding job (which she loved, mostly), biking back and forth to Seattle for 20+ years while raising two kids and maintaining a home. We talk about everything, discussing issues and working out solutions together. Although I defer to her judgment in many areas as she’s way smarter than me. There are not enough words in the English language to accurately describe my gratitude for all the things she is and does.
We had to euthanize our sweet little guy, Vinnie last Friday evening. He was a rescue we got during COVID. We’re pretty sure he was feral when Riverside, CA animal control grabbed him. But he settled in quickly and soon carried our hearts around in his 15 lbs. frame. He leaves a huge hole. Thankfully, his brother Fred is still here to provide that canine energy and unconditional love. Pets are the best. Dogs & cats are the “Guardians of Being” (2009 Eckhart Tolle, illustrated by Patrick McDonnell).
Most of the side effects from the meds are still present, GI issues, insomnia, mood swings, hot flashes & body aches, the hot flashes and the body aches being the most prevalent. I’m told it will take 2-4 months to subside. Since the beginning of March, I walk with a slight limp, but I’m still able to walk :)

I’m scheduled for an infusion at Harborview tomorrow morning to help strengthen my bones. Maybe we can stop at the Seattle Art Museum on the way back to the ferry dock. I love standing in a room, stuffed to the rafters with creativity and talent. Doing so grants me a brief reprieve from the shit show we see each day in this country.

Nearly forgot to mention, I was accepted to read my work at the Fisher Poets Gathering in Astoria at the end of Feb. It was an amazing experience. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORY5yDa1PiY&t=11s  
It may sound hokey or cliché, but all things being equal, I am the luckiest man on the planet. Cancer has been an eye opener. I feel truly blessed, as I am learning to know myself and I like what I see. With two decades in front of me, I hope to lean in, be a better human and enjoy the simple things life has to offer.
More to follow…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February

I was first diagnosed with prostate cancer in January 2013. It was slow growing so we had time to choose a treatment plan and opted for a naturopath in the Denver, CO area. We packed our juicer and hopped on a plane for 3 weeks of rather intense disruption to my (then) lifestyle choices. Basically, lots of grilled meats, rich sauces, sugary drinks, desserts and junk food or as my partner calls it, a typical American diet. I was overweight but gave little thought as I didn’t drink alcohol (still don’t) or use drugs (I started smoking weed again in 2018 when my f-in-l died, I miss him every day) and I rode my bike 100 miles a week, swam, ran and participated in triathlons and half-marathons. Fortunately, I was cancer-free at the end of that treament and the intervention produced weight loss and a moderate improvement in eating habits. The stress was still there, as was much of the old mind set.

In January 2023 my PSA was elevated and creeping higher. My urologist (at the time) was telling me that active surveillance (monitor and wait) remained an option. That advice nearly killed me as I delayed conventional medical treatment until July of that year. My urologist (at the time) moved her practice, so I had to find a new doctor.

When my new doctor saw the results of my bloodwork, she had a few choice comments for my previous doc and scheduled for an immediate removal of my prostate. We arranged for a CT/PET scan and the results were sobering; the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. The new doc was freaked out by the scan results and had trouble communicating effectively at our appointment. Basically, we left with no referrals for treatment and from her conversation, I thought I was going to die within the next couple of years. So, shit got real in a hurry.

We retired immediately, both from long-tenured jobs that we enjoyed (I still had 1.5 years until my planned retirement) and we lived off savings until Dec 2025 when I qualified for Medicare, SS and could draw my state retirement without penalty.

Back to the diagnosis, we cold-called Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center and I burst into tears when they said they could help, even without a referral. They set up appointments and for the next six weeks, while waiting to meet the first doctor on my new care team, I was still thinking I had a couple years left until my “pull date”, so I’d better make the best of it.

We took the time to get closer than we’d ever been. It was terrifying and magical at the same time. I’m not saying that I’d like to relive those moments, but I am grateful that we took advantage of the situation.

I don’t sleep a lot these days, not that I ever did. I get up 3-4 times each night to pee. The hormone deprivation treatment comes with its own bag of tricks: insomnia, hot flashes, headaches, body aches, low energy, and gastrointestinal issues. In addition, having no libido for the first time in my life is different but somewhat refreshing. I can focus on things beyond the desire I have for my partner. However, the mental/emotional conditions are at a level which I could never have imagined. It seems to take the mania within me, magnify it and deliver it back exponentially harder to resolve. So, the depression I’ve dealt with for most of my adult life, presents like it’s on steroids.

At this point my mind continually hijacks my body to places I do not want to go, and pushes me to surrender, to acquiesce to the darker side of my psyche. For the past four months the concept of suicide has been front and center. The likelihood that I’ll act on it is miniscule, but it’s there. Too bad that metal health is so stigmatized, because if I were to say that to a mental health expert, they’d probably lock me up for my own protection, versus taking the time to figure out the context of the issue within the framework of my life.

Since starting treatment 18 long months ago, my body has not felt like my own. The experts tell me that it’ll take another 9 months to feel like myself, six more months for treatment and another three months to deplete the drugs from my system. So basically, this time next year I should be normal, whatever that means, regardless, we are going to celebrate.

One of the gifts received since metastatic prostate cancer was diagnosed is the desire to simplify my existence and take advantage of the opportunity to really dig into my life and reimagine my priorities. A positive outlook is requisite to successful treatment. So, I am leaning hard into the half-full glass concept and would buy a round for all, if needed. I am examining the times in my life (when I was happy) for patterns that I can replicate and use as I move forward. And while my childhood was complicated by the relationship of my parents, the bully and the book worm, it’s hard to unlearn those early lessons. I had lots of positive influences as a child and young man, in addition to the trials and tribulations one can expect, some typical, others not so much.

I remain dedicated to positivity, connection and the pursuit of happiness, as cliché as it sounds. Realistically speaking, I have 10 years (8.5 now) before this monster comes roaring back for me. And I may not outrun it in 2033. The best case, I have 20 summers left and don’t intend to waste a second.

As I sit here on the lanai, staring out the ocean, geckos skitter and birds swoop and the coconut palms sway, with the ocean as a backdrop. We are on a slow bell for the next few days as the weather is marginal, but it doesn’t dictate our mood. The Hawks won yesterday, the Olympics are on as TV’s biggest and best inspirational moment (there are no quitters in the Olympic Village). We lay in each other’s arms at night as we drift off to sleep, and wake to cuddle, talk and share our dreams and fears without judgment. We don’t resent the clouds or showers forecasted. Instead, we look for the adventure and opportunity that awaits us.

More to follow…

Noise

Does the din of the world

Fuel the noise in my head?

Or do the sounds in my mind

Leak into the ether,

Adding to the thoughts and prayers 

Of others, increasing

The cacophony of the cosmos?

What if all the noise in the universe

Could be silenced, for just one minute?

Would I bask in the peacefulness 

Or lament the loss of a soundtrack

To all this beauty?

 

© 2025 Marginal Effort Publishing

October

 

The last couple of weeks have landed heavy. After such a long stretch of amazing gardening weather, the cold-wet-dark season approaches. We still get some very sunny afternoons, but the soil’s too cold for everything except brassicas and some root veggies, and we’re losing daylight quickly. My wife and I are discussing tropical distractions to break up the drizzle.

Summer was warm and productive, long days with most of it spent outside. Lots of time with The Boys, either walking them or letting them hang while we tended veggies. They had to be watched around green beans and broccoli; they’d eat it right off the plant.

My brother arrived for a few days. Then he headed east to see family. Later, we joined everyone back east, for a week. We were there to sort out the remainder of our father’s estate and things got a little bumpy, partially to my emotional state. Of course I had:

·       A broken back, healing but sore,

·       A case of shingles (4^th time, yes, I have received the vax, both shots),

·       A little lymphedema, probably from having my swimsuit area zapped with radiation repeatedly, over several weeks,

·       The hormone deprivation meds I’ve taken for a year (and still have another year to go), making me a bit emotional.

·       And the daily nausea and fatigue, the weekly GI issues I deal with, luckily the headache is gone after 7 months.

After ME, we had planned another week with family in a place on the Cape. I was in some pain and returned to the island to rest, hang out with my brother, son, and The Boys. My wife would return to the island after hanging with sibs on the Cape. Win-Win :) Between doctors visits, we worked in the garden, walked the Boys, ate like royalty and played a lot of guitar and sang with my brother.

Regarding my back, I got a fit for duty in Sept and have been through Physical Therapy. We spread 10 yds of topsoil over our drain field (second time) and planted white clover. The little leaves are poking up, reaching for the sun as I type. And we’re preparing the beds for winter while dodging raindrops and hanging in the capital city helping family.

Four guys from my book group did a Deepak Chopra meditation series and I felt I got some useful stuff out of it. I may do it again. Trying to get back in the habit or 20-30 minutes of yoga every evening before bed, after all, for me it's private lessons with the best yoga teacher I know. 

I’ve been reading a lot and watching the streamers. “Nobody Wants This” on Netflix is definitely worth a look.

The circle continues and I am blessed to be part of it.

 

More to follow…

 

 

Fire

Crumble paper

Crib kindling

Set damper & intake

Strike match.

A light inhale,

Like an affirmation,

A finger snap,

Another, another,

A chorus of snapping digits.

Inhalation builds to a roar.

Snapping slows, never stopping.

No exhale to be seen,

But it’s there.

Hiding at the house top.

The glow flutters

Like a butterfly,

Brighter here,

Darker there,

Moving, always.

With newly banked logs,

The furious cadence slows,

Finding its rhythm.

Heat arrives.

A summer day

In my living room,

Locking out winter.

 

© 2025 Marginal Effort Publishing

 

 

 

 

June

As I sit here, beating the heat in the shade with ‘The Boys’, I realize that it’s been some time since I added anything.

March was awesome. Berit and I spent a week in Kona, HI to start the month. Upon return we had to giddy-up with the summer planting. We pushed the dining table to the corner and set up two shelving units with lights and heat and began everything from seed. It’s been warm, dry and sunny recently, so our garden has taken off! We have yet to get the drip irrigation set up.

And we’ve been having fun with our online gardening program, Veg Club. We added more field trips this year. We’re going to people’s houses to visit their gardens for ideas and inspiration, and it’s been a hit. Check out our YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/@VegClub-vm1jd/playlists

Berit’s mom needed more help, so Berit arranged with her sister to create a schedule and split the time, half here and half with her mom. It was working out until her sister got sick. But they figured it out and have a solution that works for everyone.

I saw the Seattle Kraken play the Winnipeg Jets at Key Area (Climate Pledge). The Jets are playing in the Stanley Cup Championship as I write. And I am dismayed that a team from a state with no natural ice is doing so well against them.

By mid-April I was dealing with nausea, almost daily. And I had some pretty intense hip pain for two weeks and the nausea continued into May. I was monitored via monthly bloodwork because the numbers were indicating that my meds were causing some issues for my liver.

In March things began to improve and continued to do so. The back pain started after the May 14^th Lupron shot. I got sick on May 18^th and my back was really sore after. It took two weeks of not getting better to finally go to the hospital.

We spent 9 hours in Harborview Medical Center’s ER on May 27^th. By that time, I was worried that the meds had trashed my kidneys, or the cancer was in my spine, but the scans revealed good news; no organ damage, no cancer, just a cracked and compacted L4. I broke my back. I get a brace to wear for 6 weeks and follow a ton of restrictions to prevent damage. I look quite fetching in the brace, btw. And my PSA is 0.09!!!!!!!

 

I’ve read a ton of books, watched a ton of TV, as I was resting for the first week or two and I’ve written a couple of poems (see below).

My faves:

Waiting for the Long Night Moon: Stories by Amanda Peters (2025) Catapult

Amazing stories of forgotten people and folks in the margins. The writing is stellar, authentic dialog, real characters, and a true sense of space & time.

 

The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon (2024) Vintage:

Historical Fiction. 18^th century New England. A body is found in the frozen Kennebec River. The deceased is a suspect in an assault and rape. One medical professional says he was beaten and hanged before being thrown into the river, another says he simply drowned and the ice damaged the body. Is it a murder or accident?

 

The Orange and Other Poems by Wendy Cope (2024) Faber & Faber

Great poetry! Astute observations cleverly constructed into verses about relationships & life in general, the good and bad, the happy and sad, all shared with lovely rhythm and whimsy, lots and lots of whimsy. I got many, many smiles out of this book.
Everyone should read this!

 

 

One Evening After Doggie Dinnertime

A crow complains.

Long & loud he leans into his grievance.

None of the other fliers seem to notice.

They have their own issues to discuss,

Not loudly, but just as important.

The corvid is ignored, except for a Doug squirrel,

Who keeps telling the bird to quiet down

Or he’s coming over there.

 

Undercover of a fading blue afternoon,

The gibbous moon waxes on unnoticed.

Soon it will be full of itself.

A planter’s moon,

Ideal for sowing,

Reminding us to get our stuff together,

Get it in the ground,

And nurture it to harvest.

 

The fir group sways slightly in light airs,

As if determining the danceability of the wind’s tune.

Their green shimmy makes me move a little,

How could it not?

The sky begins to blush

As the sun nears the Olympic siblings,

It’s as if it knows it’s doing something naughty

By leaving the day without light.

 

The boys drift across the grass,

Marking plants, tracking game,

And anything that isn’t us.

Occasionally, the little one rolls in flowers,

Gleeful for the sweet scent.

I sit in a lawn chair, inhale gently, but deeply and smile,

Taking it all in.

I am going to dream in color tonight!

 

5-2025 Marginal Effort Publishing

 

Blackberries

When I join ‘The Boys’

For their last whiff & sniff,

Before we say our,

‘Now-I-lay-me’s’,

I can hear 

Tendrils stretching,

Across new territory

Near the back fence.

From the corner of my eye,

I catch them creeping

Yet, turn to their stillness.

I thin & trim them,

Not to taunt, tame or tune,

But to slow the onslaught.

And just when I’ve pruned enough

Blossoms appear,

Pollinators pause,

And tiny green orbs

Become small dark orbs,

Beckoning.

By late summer,

I’m braving puppy-teeth-prickles

Every afternoon.

Reaching, stretching, balanced on one foot,

Applying a hybrid of Tai Chi,

Yoga, & Buns-of-Steel moves

I fill the pail,

Spilling very little blood.

So, I grab another pail and

Pick until my purple fingers say, enough.

The dark nuggets

Dribble from my pail

To ramble over a cookie sheet.

A gentle shake levels the mass,

Before a deep sleep

In the freezer.

As I grind through

The cold, dark & wet

Days of winter,

I will ration the taste of August

Into my morning mush.

If I’m lucky, my purple smile

Will last until the blossoms return.

 

6-2025 Marginal Effort Publishing

 

 

 

End of February

 

Great News!

Most recent check-in at Fred Hutch yielded a PSA of 0.11, which means the treatment is working. We are over the moon!!!!The past few months have been mostly unseasonably cold days, lots of layers when we go outside. It’s back to our normal weather patterns as of last week. The days are getting longer, I’ve been outside on my bike and the 300 or so bulbs we planted last fall are popping through for a peek. And we moved the rack, trays, pots and lights to the dining room, preparing to start our veggies from seed. It’s the beginning of our busy time which builds gradually until May, when we scramble to finish getting everything in the ground, then the pace slows to a steady rhythm until the veggies and berries start showing up in mid-July and we start eating and processing. Long days outside with lots of activity, and the company of "The Boys', aka, our dogs. Who could ask for more?

Veg Club resumed in February, our online gardening classes that we started when I worked at the library. The library has since discontinued the partnership. We found a local preparedness organization that is awesome. We are grateful to them for their support, values and community connectedness. And I love working with our Veg Club host. She’s knowledgeable, experienced and positive. You can find our YouTube channel, Kitsap Veg Club.

I’ve been writing quite a bit, both in my journal and composing poems. I wake quite early most mornings as I’ve not slept well since September and have a constant headache to boot. Nothing unmanageable, mostly just the side-effects from the meds I’m taking. I like to use the time to read, write and hang with Freddy, one of our dogs. I think he worries about me so he gets up and joins me on the couch in the mornings. Which brings an issue: if spell check, arguably a simple form of AI, is so horribly inefficient, e.g., not able to recognize ‘morning’ if letters are transposed or one is missing, is it a good idea to slowly cede the control of the world to artificial intelligence? I digress.

I’ve been enjoying quite a few great reads;

Goodbye to Clocks Ticking by Joseph Monninger, a memoir from a man whose terminal cancer diagnosis came 4 days after retirement. It’s a spare, simple and lyrical account of someone who has come to terms with his situation, sensed his priorities and is making the best of what he has left. It is hard to put down.

The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka, the tale of a war photographer of the 1990s civil war in Sri Lanka. It’s told from the perspective of his dismembered body looking for closure. Absolutely brilliant!

And a lot of poetry, The works of Ross Gay (Book of Delights, Catalog of unabashed Gratitude), Michele Bombardier (What We Do), and a few collections with poems of hope and gratitude from Story Publishing.

 

Lots of hockey to enjoy on TV. I’ve seen a couple of Kraken games with my good friend Larry. We both grew up in Maine, but didn’t meet until he moved to the island a while back. We know a lot of the same people, have similar childhood experiences and it seems like we’ve known each other forever. He’s a generous soul and I love hanging out with him.

Went to Smash Putt (Google it), I can say that it’s an unusual approach to mini-golf that has to be experienced. We went with our dear friends K&K, followed by one of the best Thai meals I’ve ever had!!! I love spending time with them, they’re positive, bright, warm, connected people who always have interesting and fun things to do. And they’re the closest we have to family (while not actually be related by blood or law) in the Pac NW.

 

Both dogs have been to the vet recently, not something they enjoy. Vinnie has some stuff going on and Fred is getting his teeth cleaned. Those furry little turd droppers bring us unlimited joy with their love and antics, plus taking them for walks gets us outside. We are so grateful that they live here.

 

And I have a couple of poems to share. One a Valentine for Berit, the most amazing human I know, and one for my father. You can figure out which is which.

More to follow…

 

Coda

If I should fall from thee,

Do not weep, for I have led

An interesting & fruitful life.

Celebrate my fortune

To have lived so well

Surrounded by caring people.

 

If I should fall from thee,

Know that I had purpose & value,

With friends I depended on

And those who depended on me,

That I cherished time with family

And was lifted by their love.

 

If I should fall from thee,

Be happy that I experienced

The warm closeness

Of a kind & gentle soul

Who blessed me with her trust,

Asking only for what I could give.

 

If I should fall from thee,

Embrace the opportunity of each day.

Know the tranquility of acceptance,

Revel in the gift of gratitude

And the release of forgiveness,

As I am not sure that I ever did.

 

If I should fall from thee,

Take pleasure in the hesitance of snowflakes,

The damp whispers of a foggy morning,

And a flash of green as the sun bids adieu,

For I am amidst stardust

With those who have gone before.

Marginal Effort Publishing

 

 

 

Hazel Smile

I wake to your hazel smile

And am released

From the worry and weariness.

A conversation, a caress, a cuddle, a kiss

Brings a closeness that,

Before you, did not exist.

In you I feel the beauty of the world,

The calm, the openness, the kindness,

And I want it for myself.

You are grace personified

And I am grateful

Beyond expression.

Love,

J

Marginal Effort Publishing

 

February '25

 

Cold and clear at 0545 today, 29 degrees. The boys barked at the door and ventured into the backyard without hesitation. I balked and made coffee in the warm kitchen.

I’ve been reading and writing in the mornings, when no one is stirring. It’s quiet. I like to be up to greet the sun when it arrives. Fred joins me. I think he worries about me. He’s a great friend. We were lucky to find him among the discarded dogs the lesser of humanity cast aside.

I’ve been reading ‘Goodbye to Clocks Ticking’ by Joseph Monninger. It’s beautiful. He has a spare style, honest and clear. I discovered him in this month’s Downeast Magazine. It’s not an easy read, but for those of you who dare to venture in, you’ll be rewarded with the story of someone whose path turns unexpectedly, forcing a hard look at life and a restructuring of priorities.

I bought a few poetry books at Eagle Harbor Book Co. on Monday, ‘A Happy Poem to Start Every Day’, ‘I Sing the Salmon Home’, and ‘The Path to Kindness’ which is by the same publisher who did ‘How to Love the World’. I haven’t been sleeping well. I get up frequently to pee and I have a lot of wild dreams, intense and vivid, not restful. It could be the meds. I was hoping some positive poetry would help.

Last night I dreamed of hanging out with puppies at an animal rescue in a Cascade Mountains, whistlestop, logging town. My partner and s-in-l Lisa were with me. Maybe the poetry is helping, but then again, I got so involved with my day yesterday that I forgot to take my after-breakfast meds. I’ve only missed a dose one time, not bad for an old geezer.

Still training for the Chilly Hilly at the end of the month. It’s 33 miles of island hills in the cold, hence the name of the ride. Like the Chicago song, 'I’m feeling stronger every day', so hope to make the ride and finish.

Check-up, bloodwork and a Lupron injection next week, the first since I finished radiation. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about it. The Hutch has the best of everything, so that dampens the anxiety a bit. And my partner will be with me. Her calming confidence and we-got-this attitude helps me stay on track and moving forward and most importantly, stay grounded. It’s hard to describe what her support means to me. It transcends words and always fills me with tears of gratitude when I try. Not sure why I continue to play the lotto as I won it when I met her!

I’m volunteering once again with the island’s preparedness group, a generous and kind collective of dedicated folks. And I’m still helping with gardening classes online with my friend Carol. Here’s a link to our latest class https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_FRUpNOzDI

And my wonderfully talented b-in-l (and amazing human) Sam Bergquist recently composed and uploaded a great tune on YouTube, ‘Lucky’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2rPtK97x6U It's a heartfelt tribute to his dad and my father-in-law, another amazing human. Please be sure to like and comment as it supports Sam in his efforts and will keep him composing and uploading more great tunes.

More to follow…

 

 

The Boys

One rests off watch by the woodstove,  

So close you need oven mitts to pick him up.

The other stands sentinel.

His tower atop the back of the couch,

Waiting, watching & listening.

Don’t mistake the focus & intent,

For calm and patience, he will pounce.

They are rescues 4 & 5 aka, The Boys.

Curious & cautious, suspicious of squirrels,

And loud black birds, and worm-steeling birds, and flittering birds,

Actually, any birds,

And gravity-defying cyclists,

And little ones being pushed in strollers, or carried in packs

And fast cars, and cars with roof-top carriers,

And big trucks, and loud trucks, and trucks with trailers,

Actually, any trucks,

And the brown and the blue vans,

What are they thinking,

Leaving their junk on the porch.

Sound the alarm at the slightest provocation,

Better safe than sorry.

The world can be scary when you’re the size of a loaf of bread.

The Boys are in charge of security,

Because humans just don’t know.

Greeting the day with yawns & stretches,

Soft bellies beckon a rub.

Nearly hiding behind a kitchen chair to avoid a rainy-day walk.

Couch napping, sun seeking, toy chewing, floor wresting,

Ball chasing, turd dropping, snack snatching cuties,

One jumps, twirls, whines & growls,

While the other waits & watches from his ‘place’

As slow humans fix doggie dinner.

They love dog loaf, kibble, flax seed, and pumpkin,

Shredded carrot or sliced cabbage or chopped broccoli, always.

Maybe sardines or leftover salmon or halibut, yum.

And treats, lots of treats.

Spa Day is not so bad.

The warm wet, the smelly suds,

The cuddle in a towel, and the hot, blowing air

From that loud thing, noisy and scary,

But oh, that hot, blowing air…

Humans are nice, especially the smaller one,

Who smells good and speaks softly.

Like pre-pubescent boys, rescues 4 & 5 are living contradictions,

Tough shells, filled with fragile tenderness and love.

8 Feb 25  John Fossett  Marginal Effort Publishing Co.

 

Chester

My father departed in the wee, small hours today. He walked the earth for 94 years and 8 months and 'glided to a stop', as my brother so aptly put it. My brother and my sister were with him. 

My father passed the way most of us would like to, peacefully, family near, surrounded with love.

He was a complex guy not always easy to be with, still, my heart breaks when I think of him. Upon reflection, he'd probably say the same of me.

It's been a quiet morning. 

I've been listening to a playlist of music he liked and polishing up some poetry, I've included one below.

I'm going to walk the dogs now.

Heavy Weather Sailing

The storm endured for 94 years.

She deftly navigated the wind and waves,

Surviving in the eye for nearly nine decades.

Sailing to exotic ports of call,

Away from the boom & bluster.

Fixing her position by

Sparkling stars and summer sun,

All while providing a lee for her crew.

But the rarely relenting vigor

Of the gale wore her down.

Her compass, charts, and sextant,

Swept away by seas,

Her sails in tatters, helm untended,

Flotsam/jetsam in her wake,

She drifted, alone on the briny deep.

But not before showing her crew

The easy way and balmy breezes

Of the tropics.

 

The storm endured for 94 years.

She trained her crew well,

Preparing them for their own voyages.

They jumped ship, one at a time,

Departing for ports of their own,

Finding their own gentle navigators.

Some dropped anchor a few hundred miles from the eye,

Sharing hard-won knowledge with others.

One sought refuge on the far side of the world,

On white sands with sweet citrus and tree ferns.

Another found the sheltered shores

Of the Salish Sea, away from the fury,

With a navigator, positive & patient,

Kind & caring, brimming with love,

Showing that not every voyage

Charts a course through heavy weather.

 

The storm endured for 94 years.

Like the great red spot on Jupiter,

He scoured the planet,

Devouring conflict

Like a Michelin starred meal,

Because being right

Brought more than being happy.

His days were councils & committees,

Rarely resting, constant motion,

As another task awaited.

Occasionally, the mistral abated,

Never the Horse Latitudes,

As mackerel skies and mare’s tails

Always loomed on the horizon,

But the wind let go, with the sun

Filling cracks in the clouds,

Like caulking between planks.

He joked with friends, sang in the choir,

Shared his wisdom, helped as needed,

Sailed, fished, hunted

And played cribbage.

And He cried as each of the crew departed.

It was his brand of love, but love, nonetheless.

The squalls and squabbles have dissipated,

No longer filling sails,

While the abiding chaos of navigating shoal water

And confused seas have taken their toll,

His work is done.

He is underway to Snug Harbor.

May he rest his oars at last,

And know the solace

Of fair winds and following seas,

And that his crew loved him,

His brand of love, but love, nonetheless.

26 Jan 25 John F Fossett  Marginal Effort Publishing