"No Matter How Much I May Personally, Utterly Despise It, My Circumstance Necessitated That I Beg"

“No Matter How Much I May Personally, Utterly Despise It, My Circumstance Necessitated That I Beg”

 

 

11/01/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and always comforting readers,

 

The other day, while typing steadily on, ‘Part II of, “To Sleep, Perchance To Dream”, it suddenly hit me that I had written fourteen pages of absolute shit; the topic—addressed was, ‘mattresses’, for Heaven sakes.

 

Who-in-Hell wants to, or needs to read that crap, when—certainly—there are so many other more serious, and more pressing matters that could be attended to?

 

What struck me was that I—to an increasing degree—had lost my direction, my sense of focus, my sense of purpose.

 

Almost from the beginning—in using my, ‘diary’ at MDJunction--I tried to find an ever-agreeable voice that might in some, small way prove to be of help to you, my dear readers, in a way that was both informative and entertaining.

 

They have been an exercise in expression, using exposition, poems, sometimes requesting that you—the reader--participate with, ‘entries’, of your own in the comment section.

 

And again, my very dearest friends, I would be lying to you if I did not admit to my wanting to write for an audience, especially after having begun entries at MDJunction to an ever-kind, and caring audience I found there.

 

I must first tell you just how very grateful I am to you for your having befriended me, and for your most wonderful support and encouragement.  And of how very much I love you for it!

 

Even when my supposed, ‘exposition’, turned out to be nothing so much more than a, ‘rant’.  Always your patience and kindness moves my heart, and I feel a very large debt of gratitude to you for reading my diary entries with admirable regularity, your continuing to, ‘abide’, with me through times that are unbearably difficult, and for your patience in, ‘slogging-through’, doubtless tedious and overlong, “series pieces”, combined with my lamentable, ‘wordiness’, tangentially, and my often inability to state a point, without your having to pack a cooler full of food, and several, ‘overnight bags’, just to make it all the way through ‘til the end.

 

I don’t even think that I—personally--have the attention span needed to read my own entries; certainly, a greater effort is now needed just to proof read my stuff.  Which in itself is probably a very good reason to try to keep it brief.

 

If ever you have read my profile—here at MDJunction—you will get a glimpse of what I must try to endure daily.

 

There NEVER is a time without illness(es), never a moment without depression or despair, never a second without pain.

 

Rarely do my entries, ‘write themselves’, having been truly, ‘smitten’, by whatever Muse is conveniently available.  The greatest number of entries require hours (sometimes, days!) of thought, and—including corrections, deletions, and just, ‘moving’, things around, an entry may take me five or six hours to write, and that’s with a firm theme in mind.

 

Certain elements of my personal situation have changed, with my becoming less and less able to manage, and to, ‘cope’, with them.

 

‘Which straw—however small—serves to break the camel’s back?’

 

I realized that I have too-often bitched to you—my dearest friends—about my, S.S.D.I, having long-ago become insufficient to my, ‘needs’, never mind my, ‘comfort’.

 

And while we—my dear friends—share many of the same concerns, I am both delighted, and in some awe of just how you manage to endure.

 

I completely admire your common sense, your bravery, your strength, and your ability to, ‘cope’, in general.  For surely you have pain too; surely you often feel depressed; sometimes, you must do without, yet do so, without ranting and raving.

 

And so—in addition to everything I must endure every hour of every day—other, ‘sneaky’, problems come to the fore. To perhaps save time (and with—of course—your most kind permission), I will, ‘list’, a few, in no certain order of significant impact:

 

1)           My, ‘global’, sense of pain seems to be on the upswing, necessitating my more, and more frequent use of, ‘pain’, medications.

2)           Weekly…about four nights of exhausting, broken, pain-filled, nightmare sleep, so that I wake up tired and hurting, and—frankly—all I would like to do is just to, ‘dose up’ (however much THAT means!), and stay in bed to the exclusion of all other pursuits. And while this will sound dramatic and self-serving, more often—now—I just want to sleep, and sleep, and sleep…not particularly caring whether I wake or not.

3)           Daisy.  As you may already be aware, her Vet, Dr. Weston, had some months ago diagnosed that Daisy was in a definite state of, ‘decline’.  On about November 17^th, Daisy—whom I love with all my heart—will be thirteen years old (not counting her age when she first, ‘adopted’, my late mother and me!). Since this last June, we have had a number of very close calls, necessitating that Dr. Weston come out to the house to examine the, ‘Daister’.  Over the past three days—now—Daisy has neglected both her food, and water bowl, even though—on Tuesday—I cooked a pound of ground beef to mix with her dog food, hoping to appeal to her appetite.  I am now having to give her her medication—myself—using a, ‘needleless’, syringe.  She has become very, very quiet, and I dose her up primarily to ease her pain, and to tranquilize her discomfort and agitation.  I am already in so much credit card debt—now—from Dr. Weston’s visits, medication, medication, and refill after refill for Daisy, that I can’t pay it off now.  My only recourse is to try to mitigate Daisy’s pain…until—I suppose—comes the morning when I awake to find her dead.

4)           Credit card debt up to my eyebrows, when—just a few months ago—I very nearly had the balance paid in full.

5)           Since the very few friends I actually have, ‘real time’, are so far away as to be the stuff of memories, I find I do rely on you, my very dearest friends at MDJ for the kind of wonderful, caring comfort that you have been!

6)           My, ‘across-the-street’, neighbor has been violently ill this past week-and-a-half, and with her understandably spending as much time as she can with her father (who is ill with cancer, and not doing well on chemotherapy), and trying to run a, ‘house-cleaning’ business as well as attending to the needs of her own family, she never can predict when she might be able to go to the grocery store.

And so—despite the fact that the grocery store manager told me that they7 could no longer, ‘shop’, for me, or deliver groceries to my house—I HAD no choice but to call the store manager, and to…beg that they somehow make an exception as I was running out of so many things.

7)           I have, ‘non-ad valorem’, property taxes due by the end of December—I believe.

8)           My driver’s license will expire this January.  Could it simply be renewed by mail?  Hell no.  What with all the panjandrums involving, “Home Security”, I would have to find someone to take me to the nearest D.M.V. And it gets better!

 

In addition to having to bring-along all kinds of photo-I.D.s, S.S. cards, etc., they NOW want a recent passport, OR, a copy of one’s birth certificate.

 

I was born in France to an American mother and father; consequently—somewhere—I have a French birth certificate, and an old, faded Xerox copy of the citizenship papers I signed when I was thirteen.  So in order to prove that I am—indeed—a citizen of this great Country, I had to—this morning—telephone the Department of State, to have the appropriate forms sent to me.  The cost…guess what?, $345.00!  Just to get my damn, driver’s license renewed.

9)           In addition to, ‘Lupus-rage’, ‘Fibro-flare’, and a wearying, ‘mind fog’, that bewilders thought, makes me very easily upset, and—along with the effects of all the medications I MUST take—makes me so completely forgetful that—often—when dialing a telephone number, I quite forget exactly who it is I am calling, and desperately hope that I can recognize their voices, or that, somehow, my, ‘caller I.D.’, will give me sufficient hint.

10)    Even though I was, ‘seen’, by my Shrink two days ago, I find that I am sinking into a depressive cycle I cannot see an end to.  And…you might know, my dearest friends, that I have recently begun to have panic attacks again…some real, ‘doozies’, so that  I am now taking extra anti-anxiety medication, in addition to, ‘eating’, pain pills.

11)   What I perceive as a marked increase in stress, or, ‘shit-karma’, if you prefer, my appetite—along with dear Daisy’s—is practically nonexistent.  I’m lucky if I feel like food twice a day, and then take not enjoyment from it; eating then becomes mechanical, something that has to be done and gotten over with.

12)    And, we are fast-approaching four holidays that always depress me: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and…dammit, my birthday.

13)   Of course, the house is a pig-sty; the kitchen is a complete, ‘train wreck’, the bathroom sink is clogged, well-beyond the frequent applications of, “Liquid PlumR”, and I have the suspicions of a new, little family of roaches around the bathtub!

 

Often in the very, very, ‘wee’ hours of a morning, I have plenty of occasion to ponder the, ‘Fate Of Nations, And Of Man’, and—really—cannot come up with anything useful that might improve either Daisy’s or my condition.

 

Happiness, it would seem, decendeth from the Heavens by random micro-drops.

 

At the prime age of fifty-eight (soon to be fifty-nine!), this is categorically in NO way what I would have imagined my current life would be.  Maybe I asked for too much; maybe I wasn’t thankful-enough.  Maybe my prayers have been as, ‘wish lists’, whiningly offered-up to a God who otherwise has His hands full!

 

What I perhaps, ‘need’, most to do is to step back, step down, and step away in an attempt to try to find purpose and meaning.

 

And so…among other things, I am thinking of taking a little, much-needed vacation from writing diary entries. Oh…I will still write them from time to time, but—frankly—if I cannot be pleasant, I might as well be quiet.  And certainly less of an annoyance!

 

The plight of the victims of, ‘Hurricane Sandy’, does seem to make of my meager complaints small potatoes, indeed.

 

I thank you so much for allowing me to, ‘rant’, on and on today, and hope you will continue to read my diary entries, as your kindness, support, and encouragement have always made my heart happy!

 

I think of you so very often, and ever want you to be safe, well, and…happy!

 

And, please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

'Zahc'/Charles

"Hurricane Sandy": A Time For Thoughts, A Time For Wishes, A Time For Prayers, And A Time For Healing"

“Hurricane Sandy”

A Time For Thoughts, A Time For Wishes, A Time For Prayers, And A Time For Healing.

 

 

10/30/12

 

 

To my very, very dearest friends, and always kind readers,

 

Safe within the comfort of my little home, with, “Daisy”, loyally at my side, its easy—somehow—to become so wrapped-up in one’s illness, pain, and situation, that its almost impossible to imagine the horrendous scope of human tragedy, loss, and suffering of those, reeling from the destruction and devastation most recently wrought by hurricane, “Sandy”.

 

Even the name, “Sandy”, sounds so innocuous in any attempt to conceive what absolute carnage any hurricane can do.  And of the subsequent weeks and weeks necessary to restore even basics such as available drinking water, food, and medical care; not to mention the seemingly endless difficulty in finding shelter, and the restoration of electrical, telephone, and computer service to those affected.

 

When we look—though—at news or radio broadcasts, or see video after video of damage, of persons who have lost everything...family members, friends, pets, homes, cars, and who can be seen wandering aimlessly—in total shock—through endless piles of waterlogged wreckage and debris, looking for someone, something, anything. 

 

For in the passing of a few, scant hours, their hopes, wishes, dreams…in fact, their entire lives were stripped from them and swept away.

 

Seared into our conscious minds were sights of the absolute, horrendous power of the hurricane, with after-effects one can only, vaguely associate with nuclear blasts.

 

We hear their weeping; we see their grief; we can see the hopelessness in their eyes.

 

But we can only imagine their loss, their sorrow, the broken will, or the broken heart.

 

Safe and secure in front of the computer—perhaps—quiet and safe within our homes we should feel an enormous feeling of rage, of helplessness, feeling as if we should DO something, but not knowing quite what TO do.

 

First of all…and I hardly, really need mention it, is to telephone to try to get in touch with a affected loved one, or friend; make sure that they are relatively safe.  If you have room, or can make room, open up your homes to them; it needn’t be forever, should you worry about being inconvenienced.

 

For those without family or friends in the devastated areas, one CAN at least make a small

donation to whatever Charity you think best utilizes their resources.

 

And even should they be as strangers to us, we can still keep them I our minds, in our hearts, and (as may be appropriate) in our prayers.

 

Try to imagine (past your own sense of pain, illness, or deprivation) how they feel; imagine how you—too—might feel in such a situation.  It should make you grateful for what you DO have: family members, friends, and/or pets who genuinely love you; shelter, food, and running water.

 

And now is as good a time as any to mention: never let an opportunity pass by to tell someone special just how very, very much you value them, and love them!  For—as we have seen only too well—that chance might be taken-away from you in a heartbeat!

 

And—with our hopes and prayers—we can help them recover.  For as fellow humans, we can surely do no less.

 

Thank you.

 

And, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

" Ah-h-h-h..To Sleep, Perchance To Dream! "

 

 

“Ah-h-h-h…To Sleep, Perchance To Dream!”

 

Part I of IV:

What do we mean by, ‘Sleep’; and how shall we define it?

 

 

10/29/12

 

 

To my very, very dear, and wonderful friends, and ever-constant, loyal readers,

 

 

Sleep.  S-l-e-e-p—a word possibly derived from, ‘Middle or Old’, English, with its almost harsh consonantal sound—nevertheless, can still lull when the sound is drawn out, and even further out.

 

S----L----E----E----P----when intoned—thusly—mimics the glottal sound of air expressed as would an exhalation, as part of a natural, physical rhythm.

 

The word has a slow, hypnotic, beckoning sound; a gentle admonition.  Soft as a prayer. As light as a billowy cloud. As melodious as a stream.

 

 In fact, much more, ‘relaxing’, than is the word, ‘awake’, with its sharp and abbreviated, ‘chopping’, sound. Sound it out yourself; listen to the distinction:  ‘A-WAKE!’.  Bam.  BOOM!  “Get UP this INSTANT!!!.”

 

Sleep is an integral part of Life, such as is breathing, or eating.

 

In the, ‘normal’, scheme of things, sleep occupies a full third of one’s life; we spend YEARS—in total—sleeping (or, trying to sleep!)

 

And while everyone has—perhaps—been made overly-aware of the traditional, ‘phases’. Of sleep, that include, ‘Alpha’, ‘Beta’, ‘R.E.M’, ‘Delta’, and maybe, ‘Theta’, as they refer to the different levels of sleep, and sleep consciousness, I would like—for the purposes of this topic—to offer a more simplified, though no less subjective categorizing of, ‘sleep states’, from, ’normal’, to that which is affected by illness, psychological aberrations, pain, etc., which will be referred to when needed for comparison.

 

Thus—for our purposes—basic, ‘sleep’, can be illustrated from, ‘beginning’, until that time, ‘just prior, ’to wakefulness.

 

And so, our, ‘sleep’ chart might look something like this:

 

1)           Drowsiness # I.  The individual begins to blink more often, in an effort to clarify vision.  Yawns appear more frequently.  If reading, certain words must be re-read for understanding, and continuity.  The body just begins to want to, ‘settle down’.

2)           Drowsiness # 2.  The eyes begin to , ‘grow heavy’, until keeping them open and focused becomes a concerted chore.  Whole paragraphs now have to be read, in order to carry over meaning; it is often—during this time—where one might even flip-through the book to see just how many pages remain until the end. Fully-extended yawns become more prevalent; and natural respirations lengthen.  Here, the body may be perceived as being, ‘too warm’, or not, ‘warm enough’.  Movement slows. And an almost painful lethargy floods the body. Only severe protestations (or, immediate bathroom calls!), will serve to rouse one from, say the sofa, to retire—instead—to the bed. This silent lethargy continues, until one has kicked-off one’s slippers, and has, ‘slid’, into bed, between always cool--and hopefully comfortable—clean, dry sheets, and/or blankets.

3)           Sleep #1. The eyes have been closed, and a comfortable position for the body has been found.  On average, it should require no more than ten to twenty minutes to fall asleep before conscious thoughts begin to intrude.  Sleep—then—describes a sort of, ‘U-shaped’ curve.  As the body falls deeper and deeper into sleep, more and more, ‘voluntary’, functions of brain give ‘way to more, ’involuntary’, functions, such as respiration, heartbeat, digestive processes; gradually such concepts as hunger are damped down.

The body’s core temperature begins to drop. Respirations become their longest and slowest.

It is—perhaps—during this phase that the body begins a self-assessment of need, and begins—as may be able—to repair itself.

The hormone Serotonin floods the system, ‘paralyzing’, the muscles, so as to prevent harm or injury to self (or others), by, ‘acting out’, dreams.

4)           At various times lasting from maybe twenty seconds, to ninety seconds—especially during the first phase of sleep—the closed eyelids of the sleeper can be observed twitching and blinking; this phenomena is known as, ‘rapid eye movement’, or, ‘R,E,M,’, during which time it is thought that the sleeping individual experiences dreams.

Dreams—of course—come in all varieties, shapes, subjects, ‘good’, ‘funny’, ‘repetitive’, or take the form of, ‘nightmare’.

 It is widely thought that the dream-images—themselves—are a kind of telegraphed information of the subconscious part of the brain to the conscious part, that attempt to resolve, ‘waking’, conflict, anxieties, worries, or to problem solve, finding sometime cryptic answers that—when deciphered properly—assist in the healthy reintegration of the, ‘Id’, the, ‘Ego’, and the, ‘super-Ego’, in the predominance of Self among Self, and of Self, in regard to others.

And while these, ‘dream states’, actually represent only a very small part of the entire, ‘sleep experience’, ‘dreams’, often seem to last for hours, and hours…days, and years, ‘lifetimes’, even.

 

Please recall—for a moment—the bottom of the curve representing the lowest part, or, the, ‘bottoming-out’, of this first phase of sleep.  Heartbeats slow, as do respirations, and there is a pronounced drop in the body’s core temperature by as much as a degree and-a-half.

 

 

It is this time, from about 4:30 a.m. to perhaps, 6:00 a.m., that in nursing homes, more patients die from, ‘natural causes’, than at any other time of either night, or day.

I have personally seen this happen; we once had a very, elderly woman who was clearly hours from death.

But because the on-duty C.N.A. did not want to have to bother with the paperwork needed, or to have to, ‘wash, and prepare’, the body for the funeral home, she kept mildly, ‘irritating’, the patient, with more frequent turning, and positioning, grasping the patient’s hands, speaking loudly to her, moving the head—frequently—to change, and, ‘plump-up’, pillows.

To me, the C.N.A. said, “Now watch…in doing this, I can probably keep her alive until the next shift takes over.  And then, it’ll be ‘their’ problem.”

This went on for better than two-and-a-half hours…and…it worked.  The poor woman expired probably no more than twenty minutes into the day shift!

 

 

5)           Sleep # 2.  Just as the mind and body—in falling asleep—described a downward curve until the very deepest sleep is found, so must the body and mind follow an upward curve, from that of sound sleep to eventual wakefulness.

As sleep become lighter and lighter, the individual becomes more easily roused (for the most part!), and can thus attend to things such as an alarm clock, a street noise, or the sound of a kettle (or the aroma!) boiling to make blessed coffee.

 

Thus the individual—having had time-enough to, ‘sleep’, in an environment conducive to sleep, and of a, ‘depth’, of sleep sufficient for bodily restoration—can awake, and arise refreshed, better able to cope with the stresses of everyday life, to plan, and to problem solve in areas that might otherwise cause frustration, or anger.

To be, ‘clear-headed-enough’, to learn from past mistakes, to make appropriate judgment calls, and—with greater effectiveness—be able to interact, socially, with family members, friends, co-workers, and employers, to name just a few.

And, to enjoy better health, in general, with more energy at his or her disposal to survive and even to prosper in this busy, distracted, uncertain, and quite unpredictable world as we know it.  And to better, and with greater facility, enjoy life!

Thus, we arrive at the end of, Part I, after having defined—for purposes of this entry—the different phases of, ‘sleep’, in particular, ‘good sleep’, in order to—perhaps—better explain that which we all need, but seldom get.

 

Part II will consist—in part—of that which all too often takes away from, and prohibits the natural desire to sleep, and of the initial conflicts—both in nature, and in, ‘need’, that lead us astray from the actualization of, ‘good, solid, and restorative’, sleep.

 

Part III will attempt to address some of the physical, mental, and pain-responsive conditions that limit or ruin various phases—where indicated—of sleep, as put forth in Part I, and how, subsequently, overall health is affected.

 

Part IV will conclude this particular series on, ‘sleep’, by the acknowledgement of problem areas, and hopeful suggestions that may prove to be of some help.

 

In trying to address such an enormously varied topic such as, ‘sleep’, and of any examination of quite individualistic-specific, ‘causes and effects’, and any subsequent, proposed, ‘answers’,  the scope of such an enterprise—within a diary-type forum—may well prove to be an impossible failure, especially as I tend to run overlong anyway!

 

And so, my precious friends, and caring, gentle readers, I most kindly ask for your comments and suggestions for necessary corrections, as well as for my own edification!

Please, please do make comments, below.  I cannot know your reactions, and true feelings without them.

And I remain ever so grateful to you for taking your time to both read, and make comments to my diary entries!

 

Please do know that I think of you so very, very often, and that I write to you, and, ‘for you’, more than I write for myself.

 

I so want you to be safe, secure, to not know want or despair, and to be well, with all the genuine happiness your kind hearts can hold!

 

And…please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

 

‘Zahc’/Charles

"B~O~O~O~O~O ! And To All, A Most Happy Halloween !!! "

“ B~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O !

And To All, A Most Happy Halloween !!! “

 

 

( “From goulies and ghosties and long-leggedly beasties and things that go bump in the night Good Lord, deliver us!”—from an ancient Scottish prayer, often mistakenly attributed to the Scottish poet, Robert ‘Robbie’ Burnes. )

 

 

 

 

10/27/12

 

 

 

To my very dearest friends, and always kind readers,

 

 

In less than a week from now, it will be ‘Halloween’!  A time of chills and thrills, sudden, ‘surprises’, cackling laughter, ever deepening shadows, misty, full-moon nights, pumpkins, lit by candle from within, black cats, noisy, ‘spooks’, spider web (hopefully, without the spider!), candy corn, and the joyous peals of children’s laughter as they, in every manner of costume, trudge—holding half-full bags of, ‘treats’--from welcoming door to welcoming door.

 

 

Can witches aboard broomsticks, flying fast and low, be seen outlined against the moon?  Can you hear the rattle of chains, the squeal of rusted door hinges, or the, ‘whooshing’, fluttering of bats as they—too—fly through the air?

 

 

For children, it once was—and still should be—a time of pretend, of being anything they may want to be; walking single-file (accompanied by adult supervision, and in, ‘safe’, neighborhoods) down sidewalks in a thousand neighborhoods, looking for the houses that invite with porch light on, and welcoming open front door.

 

 

There to, ‘show-off’, their many wildly colored, and wonderful dress, to adult homeowners who suddenly, ‘have to guess and guess what each little, ‘treater’, represents.

 

There are always costumes of the, ‘Superheros’, in current vogue…Batmen, and Batgirls, Supermen, and, Supergirls; and let us not forget, ‘X-men’!

 

But more traditional outfits include a spate of would-be Firemen, Princesses, Farmers, Faeries.  Witches, and Ghosts, plus costumes that reflect childhood, ‘want-to-be’s’.

 

It is the children who know exactly what Halloween is about: the chance to play, and to pretend; to assume—for one, brief night—whatever persona they choose.

 

And they LOVE it!   Fully as much—if not more—than the candy treats they hope to receive.

 

I ask you, my very dearest friends, when was the LAST time you went out, ‘trick-or-treating’?  Not—mind you—as one of the supervising adults.  But rather, part of that happy throng that delighted in playing, ‘dress up’?

 

 

In October of 1963—when I was nine years old—was the very last time my mother and father allowed me to go from door to door, in costume, yelling, ‘Trick-or-treat!!!!’, jostling my way to an open front door to be given my, ‘bribe’… goodies, against potential, ‘tricks’.

 

 

I chose my own costume, and was very proud of it.  I had on a plastic face mask that was held in place by an elastic band over my ears and around the back of my head.

 

The mask had two, little holes beneath the nostrils to facilitate breathing, and into them I attached a long, black moustache.

 

I wore a long, black raincoat I had, with my galoshes for shoes.  I wore a plastic, black derby, and carried a plastic pumpkin.

 

That Christmas—before—I had asked for (and had been given) one of those children’s, ‘doctor sets’, that included a bright red stethoscope, a, ‘doctor’s bag’, and a bottle of sugar, ‘pills’.  And so, I wore the stethoscope around my neck.  Somehow, I also managed to carry a grocery bag to collect candy in.

 

And I was set!  For that one night—anyway—I was not a nine year old, ‘Zahc’, but rather, the nefarious, Dr. S. J. Smith. [I made up the name!].

 

My mom and dad thought I looked SO cute, that they brought the camera out; and somewhere, lost amid the numerous and ancient family albums is a photograph of me, leaning slightly (and, menacingly!) at the camera, holding out my plastic pumpkin.

 

 

And oddly—somehow—the personage of  Dr. S. J. Smith lingered on for a number of years, as whenever my folks needed a form witnessed, I would scrawl upon it, ‘S. J. Smith, M. D.

 

 

And out I went, coming home again, and again so that my dear father could upend the contents of each, nearly-full bag out upon the dining table.  And what a cache of treats there were!

 

 

Little root beer barrels, little grape barrels, toffee, gum, boxes of raisins, the odd candied apple, popcorn balls, home-made cookies, jellybeans by the kilo; and candy corn, candy corn, and more candy corn.

 

 

Since we lived at Ft. Hood, Texas, and in a duplex on base, there were miles, and miles of sidewalks to cover, not to mention repeat visits to houses that gave out the best stuff!, a veritable mountain of candy quickly formed on our dining room table.

 

 

Of course—even in ‘those’ days, there were warnings of apples containing razor blades, and of loose stuff being, ‘doctored’, with poisons.  And so—from that enormous ziggurat of treats—my mother and father discarded anything loose; there went the candied apples, the popcorn balls, the cookies, and the jellybeans!  While I wanted to at least try a couple of cookies!

 

 

Both then until now, I have never been particularly fond of candy, per se., though—certainly—chocolate has NEVER been a stranger in THIS house!  And at Easter, those super, super sweet Cadbury, ‘eggs’…WOW, a guaranteed ‘sugar rush’ in every bite!

 

 

However, this general dislike helped to make me more popular than my, ‘geekishness’, would otherwise have conferred as I was the ONLY kid on the block who still had Halloween candy in May!

 

Of course, the next year—when I was ten—I was deemed, ‘too old’, to go a trick-or-treating, but—instead—took on the duty of handing of the candy, while my folks mostly just watched TeeVee.  Sigh.

 

And although that was almost—gasp!—fifty years ago, some things—thank God—seemed to have remained changeless:

1)           The childhood ability to, ‘pretend’, to imagine, to don personas as they would socks.

2)           The ability to dream, to laugh without self-consciousness.  To have fun on an elemental basis.

3)           Most importantly—unlike adults—they have retained the ability to, ‘play’.

 

 

Admittedly—though—ideally, children have time to do these things, quite apart from duty and expectation, until such time as they—too—are expected to don the mantle of responsibility, the, ‘rite’, of passage—as it were—in order to become respectable, if predictable, ‘grown-ups’.

 

 

Though in the traditions of the Amish community, there is recognized a set time from about age sixteen to marriage, as, “Rumspringa”, or, ‘youth period’, during which the strict tenets of Amish belief are relaxed, to allow an individual time to, ‘play’, or to, ‘blow off a little steam’, before having to settle down, start a farm, marry, and have children!

 

 

Well before the time we become, ‘adults’, ‘play’, as such, is literally beaten out of us with, ’grown-up’, responsibilities, duties, and obligations taking the ascendant.

 

 

‘Play’ is thought of as wasting time, effort,  money, and considered—moreover—to be juvenile, and unproductive. It is even thought—derogatorily so—as being foolish or downright, ‘silly’. And we learn our lessons only too well.

 

 

Oh, one might—on occasion—play tennis, golf, or go bowling, etc., these pastimes are actually more like work, as they are ordered, have specific rules, and—in general—involve a decided measure of competitiveness!

 

 

‘Play’ knows no hours, no rules, nor any competition to be thoroughly participated in and enjoyed.

 

 

I would think that we all would like to be happy, secure, and fulfilled.  But in striving to become so, somehow, ‘play’ (for the most part), got left out in the rain and sleet.

 

 

I kindly ask you to consider this: about the only times we—as adults—‘play’, is on those rare occasions when we frisk-about with our pets, or actually get down on the floor to play with one’s children or grandchildren.

 

 

And when the grandchildren have left, or gone to sleep, how often have you sat down to really read, “The Cat In The Hat”, by Dr. Seuss?  Or picked up a couple of crayons and tried to color?

 

Admittedly—then—we NEED to, ‘play’; to, ‘cut loose’, to relax, and have fun!

 

 

And yet, I would propose that we need to consider, ‘play’, as a measure of happiness, well-adjustment, and…sense of peace.

 

If I may illustrate on a very personal basis, after my last, diary post, entitled, “A 2^nd Rate Heaven?”, I asked for comments; the ones that I received were—without exception—extremely well-thought out, considerate, literate, and insightful!

 

 

I especially appreciate the comments made by dear friends, ‘Tenar’, ‘AmyLouLou’, and, ‘scorpioj’, who suggested that—in truth—I was, by illness and pain, too preoccupied with being miserable to be…well...much of anything else.  And that, my dearest friends occasioned in me a lot of, ‘soul-searching’, and necessary contemplation.  How very, very right they were!

 

That is—perhaps why—Halloween is my particular, personal favorite among all recognized, American Holidays.

 

 

 

Although it is--among adults, especially—a quality practically buried somewhere in the past, the notion of, ‘play’, can still be found, if truly searched for.

 

 

While I am not particularly recommending that you seat-yourself on the floor of a toy store, and begin playing with trucks, and making, ‘truck sounds’ (though about ten years ago, I did just that—in a local pharmacy--playing with toy dinosaurs while waiting for a prescription to be filled!  Of course I got stared at.  But at that very moment, I found I was laughing, and genuinely having fun!  And…I bought four or five toy dinosaurs to bring home!), you can certainly start off small.

 

For example, the next time you have to go grocery shopping, pretend that you are someone else. At the register, assume a different voice, a different body posture.  You can be—really—anyone you want from rock star, to historic figure.

 

Do not leave a toy section in a store unexplored.  If the mood strikes you, buy a couple of toys for yourself!

 

Try to look at Nature the way a child does, full of colors, changes, magic, and wonderment.

 

We all could use a little childlike, ‘awe’, in our lives.  Please note that I did not say, ‘childish’.

 

And on this upcoming Halloween, as you’re standing near the door to, ‘ooh and ah’, each costume while giving out candy, if you simply cannot dress up in character for the evening, at least save some of the best candy you like for you!!!!!!!!!

 

My very, very dearest friends, please know that I think of you so very often, and want you to be well, secure, happy, and able to freely enjoy life.

 

And please, please always know that I love you dearly!

 

'Zahc'/Charles