Mr. Johnson

In his 52 years of life, I am sure my Dad had many friends. He was charming and social, had a good sense of humor and an infectious laugh. He worked as a bartender and a cook, and in those lines of work, you make tons of friends. Any friends he had, though, never came around. Unlike my Mom's friends, they didn't stop over the house, or visit often. Jenna and I didn't know any of them, really.

When Stevie (our neighbor and the husband of one of my Mom's best friends, Missy) and my Dad became friends, it was a relationship I found to be extremely healthy for my Dad. Stevie was always staunchly against drugs, having had his share of experience with them in his younger years, before kids, etc. They enjoyed watching any and all kinds of sports together. Stevie was also really active and played basketball, went running daily, and so on. I figured that any kind of impact that Stevie had on my Dad would have to be positive. So I really enjoyed them spending time together. Stevie got a kick out of my Dad and his antics.

Stevie recently recounted a memory of my Dad dancing to "Come on Ride The Train" one year at the BVM Octoberfest and essentially embarassing the hell out of Jenna as she rode the ferris wheel. He told Jenna and I the story as Jenna waited on us in Coco's, the pizza place where she is working now.

"Everytime the ride came down and Jenna's car was at the bottom, Den would start dancing and singing 'come on ride the train...'. It was hilarious." Stevie smiled at the vision he created for us and sang a line of the song to Jenna everytime she came over to refill our sodas. We laughed at Stevie and at my Dad. I can so vividly remember him loving that song and dancing to it.

At my Dad's viewing, perhaps the most touching, and sad, moment was when Stevie came up to the casket to pay his respects. He shuffled up to the area near my Dad's face and stared at him. With his eyes cast down towards the floor, he shook his head and whispered:

"I always loved watching the games with you, Den. We should still be watching the games now."

Witnessing this broke my heart into more pieces than it was already in that day as did seeing Stevie carrying my Dad's casket down the aisle of the church, serving as a pall bearer.

Stevie, or Mr. Johnson as my Mom calls him, probably doesn't know how much of an impact he had on my Dad's life. I should probably tell him someday...

The Exquisite Pain is...

...the tenderness in my upper thighs and all of the muscles one uses to sit and stand. You know, the kind of pain that produces audible whimpers when you try and lower yourself onto the toilet. It's good pain, though, because it is a direct result of the work out I did yesterday. I dusted off my old copy of Carmen Electra's Fit to Strip DVD and did a few of the exercises in my living room, after a nice 30 minute walk outside in the sun. This is the kind of pain that hurts on the surface but deep down feels really (REALLY) good.

"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey." - Kenji Miyazawa

Absolutely, Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. Ralph Waldo Emerson


-my credo for an insanely annoying Monday..