Grandpa Died Today

My old papa -- what a man. He adventured, he continued to live life, right up until several weeks ago when a perpetual migraine forced him to the hospital. The doctors found a tumor, many tests were done, yahda-yahda-yahda.

While I was in Montana, a trip planned much in advance of these events, my family was busy trying to figure out how to handle his condition: Too good to stay in the hospital, not good enough to rock'n'roll.

The only night Mom was able to get him on the phone, I grabbed the phone to see how he was doing. He said, "Greg, I've never believed in all of this doctor phoo-phoo business, even though, I'll admit, they've saved my life along the way. But now they don't know what to do, and they are telling me I have to live in a nursing home. I won't do it. I won't live that way."

I heard what the old man was saying, so I did take the opportunity to say what I realized were probably my last words with him, "Well, Grandpa, whatever happens I will always remember you."

He said, "Aw well, I appreciate that, I really do. You're my grandson."

Yah, that's all he said, to which I responded, "I will do my best to live up to that honorably."

He chuckled, "Oh I'm sure you will -- you couldn't be any worse than me!"

I really loved that guy. He taught me how to work on cars, build houses, garden, philosophise, smoke, and bait the hell out of my dad. All with a twinkle in his eyes. And even though after Grandma died, he did indeed find a girlfriend on the internet and proceed to print out one-sheets displaying photos of every girlfriend he ever had, I know he loved Betty in a way that makes it seem really, really RIGHT that he is being buried at her side in Montana.

They say there are a million and one ways to die, and that must be true. I've also had the honor of seeing a valiant old woman thrust into the nursing home circuit only to shine her light on the old hopeless folks living there before her. So I can't say any way is better than the other.

No matter what, life is blessing, and perhaps its greatest blessing is to witness the mastery of our elders as they let go of it.

Freeloaders

Something in the stars...there must be some lesson or realization that I am destined to have soon. Lately I am surrounded, literally, at home and at work, by freeloaders.

I think when I was younger, more enraptured with my own aspirations, it was easy for me to believe that other people (as they would egregiously claim to be) were similarly inspired.

As I get older and reflect on the sacrifices that have been necessary to actually attain and manifest these dreams, I begin to see clearly that some people are just totally full of shit. They lie to me, they lie to themselves, and what's more, they act like the biggest pussy-babies when I start to get firm with them. They squirm, they hi-tail-it, they pretend to be firm themselves -- and nothing changes. Arggh, it makes me mad!

It makes me mad because the language that they use is the exact same language I was forced to use with my ex-wife as I spent the entirety of our marriage working to change my career. And I know she must have felt something worse even that what I am feeling towards these cats because of the stakes.

The difference is that I WAS busting my ass towards something that I knew I could eventually make lucrative. These guys are entirely content to mooch their living space -- a dancer who claims to be the best in London but can't get a gig in LA, a Bob Dylan wannabe who doesn't like rap or trance or punk or anything new -- what is going to happen for them? How on earth do they expect an opportunity to arise without first getting right with their day-to-day life?

Arrggh, anyways. I'm done venting.