profkf's Blog

“Lessons learned are like
Bridges burned
You only need to cross them but once
Is the knowledge gained
Worth the price of the pain?
Are the spoils worth the cost of the hunt?”

So opens Dan Fogelberg’s song of the same name, in truth, it is written about love lost and the search for love but it applies to a lot of other things as well and so I’ll use it as the most recent springboard.

For as long as I can remember as an adult I dreamed about getting out of the cold when my working years were behind me, as such, when we retired for good at the end of the school year in 2021 and having sold our home in Norwalk, CT we very quickly, and sight unseen, purchased a home in Bluffton, SC. Originally we wanted to live on Hilton Head, having vacationed there multiple times but a combination of needing a single family home (Abbey THE dog was the prime consideration there) and rising prices due to the COVID exodus led us to Bluffton, the first town off island. We worked with a fabulous agent, Beth DeAngelis who found us the home and so, in August of 2021, having never even seen the house in person, we moved in, very excited about what was to come. The costs were lower, the weather warmer (talk about an understatement there) and world looked bright. New construction, one level living, plenty of room enough to accommodate anyone who we hoped would visit regularly. We were aware that moving to the South was a risk but were really convinced that there were many who shared out blue leanings and we hoped that it would simply grow.

The first year was, in fact, very special, I loved the 12 month shorts and flip flop weather, Abbey THE dog loved long walks along a great pathway and we were excited to explore what we were told were great food options. Living, as we did, as only the third house built in the new development, had many peccadilloes, noise, trucks, lack of any neighbors, a pool that was promised in the fall, that took two more years to complete, but we were still learning and taking things in. Friends and family visited but the visits were relatively short and became fewer and farther between. We did travel “up” but again, not as much as we thought we would. Holidays were lonely, it was just us. We knew one other couple who we had spent time with when we were vacationing here, they were, at that time, based in Atlanta, but had a family member living in Sun City who they visited frequently, yet when we offered to host Thanksgiving and/or Christmas dinner we were met with an unexpected silence and ultimately a polite decline (only after having to remind them we were in the process of shopping for things).

As more people moved in, we did make what we thought would be solid connections and then came November 2024 and the lead up to that election cycle. This is when it became abundantly clear that we were not only completely outnumbered (all you have to know is that we were the only home in a community that by then had reached 240 homes, that had a Harris/Waltz sign), but considered pariahs. The connections we thought we had made were not real connections but were, in fact, totally fractured, even, in once case, a neighbor we had gone to dinner with multiple times saying to me “you know, you’re really fucked up” with regard to our leanings. What we had hoped would happen was exactly the opposite, those folks from the north moving down were not going to shift things even slightly, more, they were running from the empathy and sanity of the northeast to be with their cult and so it grew. There likely are some in the community who don’t actively feel that way, but the silence is equally complicit in allowing the groundswell to grow and flourish.

That’s not, however, the sole reason for our discontent. We had, in fact, “escaped” from snow and ice yet I was beginning to realize that 3-4 months of winter was not nearly as annoying as 6-7 months of heat and humidity so oppressive that we found ourselves actually spending less time outside than we ever did in CT. When Abbey THE dog ran her final race in January of 2025 we no longer found any reason to spend any real time outside. The cool breezes of fall and spring are missing, I realized that after 70 years of looking forward to Opening Day of Baseball season I didn’t even care since that marked the change of seasons which here don’t exist.

So it began to be apparent to me that so much was missing that Sue was overjoyed when I said we needed to go “home” (she really only made this move for me). Last summer when we drove up for a 3 week visit (well two weeks of visiting and 3 days each way driving up and back to make it more palatable) I knew, when I started to tear up crossing the Tappan Zee bridge, that it was time to make a legit plan. We spoke to Beth about selling the house and she recommended waiting until early spring as that was when the market was at its best.

The housing market here in SC is pretty flat at the moment and there are a lot of homes in the community for sale, however for us, Sue’s talent at decorating and the whole house automatic generator were, I’m convinced, the two separators and we did get an offer after “only” 90 days on the market.

As I write this, things are moving very positively, we have found a 3br/2.5 bath townhouse to rent in Niantic, a bit farther away that we had hoped but in a great CT shore town. We will be a mile from a fabulous beach (interestingly, while the Hilton Head beaches directly on the ocean are fabulous, they are such a chore to get to, including a schlep from the parking lots, that in the 5 years we have been here I don’t think we’ve gone more than 5 or 6 times in total.When we were in Norwalk, we would drive a few times each week to the beach so I’m looking forward to fall and spring visits just to take in the tides). We are also looking forward to great food again. Other than one or two places here, the food is, at best, mediocre, when folks say “local seafood” is fabulous, it does not hold a candle to New England seafood (when even the best restaurant in the area brings in Blue Point oysters that has to tell you something). Blink and you’ll miss softshell crab season, and when you find them in a restaurant 95% of the time they are fried to a fare thee well, instead of perfectly sauteed (something we quickly learned to do for ourselves). You cannot get a good tomato here (sandy soil does not allow them to grow tasty), bread?? nope, and even much to my surprise the quality of meat is sub par. I’ve been grilling steaks for years (even bought a new Weber grill when we moved in) and regardless of where I’ve tried, there is nothing that matches the steaks from any CT butcher.

What I don’t want to do is use a broad brush to paint a negative picture, this is only to express the fact that this move has been a wonderful long vacation, and yes, we will likely return to vacation on the island at some point. It is far less costly to live here (of course the lower costs are one of the reasons support for quality education in a “right to work” state is so missing), but again, 3-4 months of winter is offset by 6 months of hurricane watches and warning and the almost daily torrential storms (though quick moving but persistent) from May through November also. The lower costs are also reflected in the dearth of primary health care, something else we are very excited to revisit back “home”. That said, we have found a few great specialists, and while I’ve found some one I’m ok with for primary care, I’d rather be more than just “ok” with who I see.

I would forever have wondered, if we had not made the move, what I was missing by not leaving CT. Now I know that I am missing CT and home and seasons and there is no wonder, and honestly because of that, no regret. Am I looking forward to another long distance pack up and move, and going from one level living to lots of stairs in the home, nope….but again all that is offset by the emotional balance and connections we have been missing…

If you are lucky enough to keep aging, one of the gifts you are given is the ability to look back as well as to look ahead. Getting older, especially now almost half way into the 7th decade, has its shares of annoyances. You get stiff easily, you slow down a bit, you can’t hit or throw a ball as far (by a long shot), in my case I get more twisted about making trips and look at what might go wrong instead of what is going right. That said, you also realize that life is not a straight line (not even in the Non-Euclidean sense). It is not a novel, it is more a collection of stories, some short, some long, some interesting, some mundane, some comical, some horrifying. This latest story is none of those yet simultaneously ALL of those somehow interwoven together. I feel incredibly fortunate to be fully immersed in this alongside the best companion, someone who has taken this ride with me, even if reluctantly (that alone speaks volumes). Abbey THE dog got the chance to live her last 4 years in absolute heaven, even making her final journey in her beloved yard surrounded by the two of us who she brought so damn much joy to, and for that alone this detour was worth the trip.

As we are beginning to make lists, check off various boxes, arrange packing, moving, leases, we also got news that a very good friend passed after a very sudden, unexpected diagnosis seemingly out of the blue and an equally quick last few laps, as well as Sue’s aunt passing. What is significant about those events other than the sadness associated, is another reflection and asking ourselves “if we were in that position would we want it to happen here?” The answer was very quickly NO. While I struggle with mortality as I age, I want to feel like I’m home when the finish line is one day in sight. Try as we did, this never truly felt like home for us.

So if you took the time to read this far, thank you it means a lot to me. When you have a chance, raise a glass, toast the good that surrounds you, hug those you love, laugh long and hard, keep in mind that hate and division serve no purpose, that someone else winning does not mean you lose. Facts matter, love conquers all, science is real, lies and attacks just are there to cover up things you don’t want anyone to see. And When life gives you a choice, ALWAYS drink the good wine.

Time for Bruce to play us out as we head to the future

“Big Wheels rolling through fields
Where sunlight streams
Meet me in a land of hope and dreams“

I have been a NY Yankees fan since I can remember. I remember Mickey’s best years, I was so enthralled by the ’61 season and forever became a Roger Maris fan (I wore his number 9 during my little league career). I can still hear Mel Allen and Phil Rizzuto on my 6 transistor radio that was under my pillow so I could listen to the west coast night games. While there were other broadcasters who were part of the radio and TV telecasts during that time, it was, for me, a straight line from them to John Sterling.

While I love to watch baseball, for me, it remains a radio game. The pace allows for it to be in the background while life is moving around. The pictures a great announcer paints are as vivid visually, maybe even more so, than what your actual eyes see. John painted those pictures incredibly well. Some were soft like a Van Gogh, some scattered and frenetic like a Jackson Pollock. Whatever he painted fit the moment as well as the entire event.

Summer 1993: I had ruptured both patella tendons in late June when I jumped with joy when my son Drew’s little league team won a semi final playoff game and my mobility was severely limited for that entire summer. He had just turned 9 earlier that June, was my constant companion and one of the things we did a lot of was watch and listen to Yankee baseball. It created a bond that has never diminished even though geography and life has us pretty far apart physically today (as an aside, I’m working on remedying that #iykyk)

I had not seen the news yet this morning about John’s passing but at 9:13 AM, just as I finished the round of the daily tournament on Golf+VR that I play each day, I got a text from Drew that simply said “Shit, John Sterling passed.” No other words were necessary, that text spoke volumes and whoever tells you that there is no emotion in a text is simply foolish. For 36 seasons his voice was a constant, for most of those 36 Drew and I (and yes, Katie as well) would listen in the car, at home, out in the yard, and even for a few years on the boat I owned. Spring training was a sign of a new start each year, and also the sign that the school year was ending and summer was on the horizon. There is, to this day, magic to the sturm and drang of both a baseball game and the entire season. Drew was born in 1984, John became the radio voice of the Yankees in 1989, almost exactly at the time that we started listening together, and for many of the years since we have been incredibly lucky to follow a team that has been largely successful ’96 was very special, ’98,’99,’00 was a run that helped us through some tough times. Through it all, there was one constant… Baseball (specifically Yankee baseball). (Ok, I kinda stole most of that thought from James Earl Jones and part of that constant was John Sterling. From “Bernie goes boom! Bern, baby, Bern!” all the way to “All rise! Here comes the Judge!” the home run calls were frequently rebroadcast on highlight shows both on radio and television. While he was clearly a “homer” when it came to calling a game, he was never less than honest. One comment during a particularly inept period sticks in mind: “Boy, if that wasn’t the Yankees. That’s what they do, run the bases like drunks!”.

You could hear the sadness in his voice when they lost, but you also waited for the final call when they won: “Ballgame over! The Yankees win! Theeeeeee Yankees win!” (The length of “the” often matched the excitement of the win). And, of course, the best version of all was “Ballgame over! WORLD SERIES OVER, The Yankees win! Theeeeeeeeeeee Yankees WIN!”

All who had the opportunity to listen to John Sterling for those 36 seasons were winners… He was and always will be an American Original. Rest well, sir, you will be missed but never forgotten.

With apologies to Mr. Zevon, the current state of what I grew up thinking was a nation continually evolving toward good, seems to have taken a very blind and hard turn away from that. There are, in my mind, two major forces that have driven the overwhelming majority of societal unrest and evil. Organized Religion and unfettered greed. That led me to the following thoughts

Throughout history, two forces have profoundly shaped human civilization: organized religion and the pursuit of wealth. At first glance, they appear distinct—one claiming spiritual purity, the other material ambition. Yet their histories often intertwine, both driven by a shared human impulse: the desire for control, security, and significance. The darker chapters of both reveal how ideals can be corrupted by excess, and how power, cloaked in either faith or fortune, can become an instrument of harm.

Organized religion, in its essence, is meant to connect humanity with the divine, to give moral guidance and meaning to life’s chaos. But in institutional form, religion has often been wielded as a tool of dominance. From the Crusades and inquisitions to the persecution of dissenters and colonization justified in God’s name, faith has repeatedly been used to consolidate authority. The wealth of medieval churches, the sale of indulgences, and the exploitation of believers’ fears all expose how easily spirituality can be transformed into an economy of guilt and control.

In many eras, religious institutions were not just spiritual leaders but political and economic powers—owning land, collecting tithes, influencing monarchs. The language of salvation masked systems that often kept the poor obedient and the powerful sanctified. Faith, when organized, could become less about the divine and more about divine right.

Fast-forward to the modern age (exacerbated by the behaviors of the past 10 years) , and the altar has changed, but the worship continues. Today, the god of choice for many is money—its promises of safety, status, and immortality through legacy. The pursuit of excessive wealth has birthed empires, yes, but also exploitation: sweatshops, financial crises, and environmental devastation. The excesses of capitalism mirror the indulgences of old religion; both promise transcendence, both demand devotion, and both often deliver inequality.

We’ve traded cathedrals for skyscrapers, relics for luxury brands, indulgences for investment portfolios. The modern elite, much like the clergy of old, preach a gospel that justifies their abundance—whether through “meritocracy” or “divine favor.” And just as religion once claimed poverty was virtuous for the masses, today’s economic system romanticizes hustle while punishing those who can’t keep up.

What links the historical evils of organized religion and the obsession with wealth is not the institutions themselves, but the human nature that animates them. Both reflect our yearning for meaning and mastery—for something to believe in and something to hold onto. When these instincts go unchecked, ideals become idols.

Religion isn’t inherently corrupt, nor is wealth inherently evil. But when either becomes an end rather than a means—a god rather than a guide—they begin to rot from within. The abuse of faith and fortune both reveal a simple truth: humanity struggles to handle power without turning it into a hierarchy.

Perhaps the challenge of our time is to reclaim what was good in both. To rediscover the compassion and community at the heart of true spirituality, and the creativity and progress that money can enable when decoupled from greed. Neither faith nor fortune must dominate; both can serve. The problem is that in order for that to happen, those guiding the ship need to have a currently missing balance of empathy and realizing that a patriarchy and white washing history are exactly the opposite of what is necessary.

If history teaches anything, it’s that the real evil lies not in the church or the marketplace, but in the unchecked worship of either. When we stop asking how much and start asking why, we might finally begin to live by something higher than both gold and gospel.

Guess it’s time to let Warren play us out on this….

Don’t let us get sick, don’t let us get old
Don’t let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave and make us play nice
And let us be together tonight

It’s been a while since I’ve stopped by here. Things have been pretty static, not too much to say beyond the incredible stress caused by the petulant boy dictator and his minions so I have taken to spending a lot of time listening to music, reading, living in virtual reality. Many days are taken up doing various boxing routines on Supernatural to loosen up the old bones and muscles and they followed up with multiple rounds of virtual golf on many of the great courses of the world. No longer having to punch the clock, holidays come and go without any need for additional celebration or excitement since there is nothing to “break” from. President’s Day, Memorial Day, July 4th are just “other days” where there is no mail and additional crowds. Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter are a bit more celebratory but being so far from family both blood and chosen dulls the extra special nature of those as well.

Labor Day weekend, though always elicits a bit of a different feeling for me. When I was much younger and my kids were just coming into their own as people, we would be invited out to spend the holiday weekend in Shirley, Long Island (all the way to exit 68 on the LIE …quite the trip from CT) at seasonal home of some friends my then wife, Doreen, had grown up with and who embraced me as family when we married. It was truly the example of “mi casa es tu casa”. There were no locks on the doors, you slept wherever you could (as the only folks at that time with two young kids we got the royal treatment and had a bedroom to ourselves), there were smiles, a lot of loud volume conversations, swimming, clamming, cooking, jokes, drinks, poker games and other card games that went through most of the night, and always more ringing laughter. There were always one of two things playing on the TV…The now defunct Jerry Lewis Telethon and the US Open Tennis tournament. The saddest time was packing up and leaving to go back to the Sturm and Drang of life (and, of course, trying to time it so that a two hour trip did not morph into a 4 hour event though that was always pot luck).

Every year, for a very long time and especially now living 1000 miles from the aforementioned family and friends, Labor Day weekend is still highlighted by watching the Us Open over multiple days. Every time I watch it, I am, at least in my mind, transported back to Shirley, Long Island, and the time spent with Frank, Eleanor, Laurie, Linda, and Susie Lunardi at their home. I still well up with joy, that is mixed in with sadness…Frank and Eleanor left us for a journey to another astral plane years ago but that doesn’t dull the memories of all that went on. Doreen and I went our separate ways more than 25 years ago, Sue and I now live in South Carolina (at least for the moment), and I’ve only seen Laurie and Linda and their partners two or three times since.

Susie became a fabulous dentist and even though she was based in the Bronx, I spent many years under her wonderful care so I did see her at least once a year (though she would have preferred at least two per year). I grew up with a dental phobia, and it took all of her patience (and some nitrous oxide…aka “laughing gas”) just to bring me back into the dental care fold…Beyond her profession, she spent untold hours rescuing cats and dogs…kindness and empathetic in a way that seems to have been lost by many today.

Earlier this afternoon, while watching the Open, my phone rang, and I actually answered it (something I rarely do unless I’m expecting a call). It was my son Drew, who was calling to tell me that Susie had lost her battle with a very aggressive form of you know what….and was now rejoining her mom and dad on their collective journey. While it was not a total shock, that news is never less than heartbreaking. Growing older, while having many unpleasant side effects, is a privilege, and increasingly it is a reminder that while enjoying said privilege along with it comes waves of sadness when anyone who has brought joy to your life no longer has their flame lit. This is one of those jarring cases…While it has been many years since I have seen Susie, I can still “see” her in my mind, and hear her. I will miss her and I hope that this house agnostic is 100% wrong and that she is hugging Frank and Eleanor and playing some cards while watching the tennis from above.

Best way to end this with the closing verse from Jackson Browne’s song that became the title of this piece it, too, goes back over 50 years. (been listening to it as I’m writing)

“But the angels are older
They can see that the sun’s setting fast
They look over my shoulder
At the vision of paradise contained in the light of the past
And they lay down behind me
To sleep beside the road till the morning has come
Where they know they will find me
With my maps and my faith in the distance
Moving farther on“

At the very least, these are perplexing times. We are witnessing a dismantling of civility, of sensibility, of empathy. Simultaneously, there are a significant number of folks in this nation cheering on all of those changes. I find myself looking to shelter myself from the daily screaming sessions, thank you Roger Ailes, it does seem like “the loudest voice” has currently captured the hearts of the mindless.

I was a big comic book reader, DC comics at the start until I found Marvel and Spiderman, Daredevil, Avengers, X-Men, Captain America, The Hulk, Thor et al. Each and every one of those with significant flaws but also so inclusive that in today’s market they would likely be banned due to the very nature of the main characters. Superman was my favorite at the outset in my DC days and it seems as if we have actually entered the Bizarro universe that was first presented almost 70 years ago (1958 first occurrence). The copy of Superboy, quickly labeled “Bizarro”, is a flawed imitation as it possesses chalky white skin and childlike erratic behavior. When he makes his next appearance courtesy of Lex Luthor, in the adult Superman, among the things he says are: Me don’t know difference between right and wrong – good and evil!” Just think on these things…Lex Luthor, whose very character personifies unchecked ambition and the supremacy, being responsible for Bizzaro, the exact opposite of “Truth, Justice and the American Way” that Superman stands for. Who, exactly might the living versions be today I wonder? Notice I didn’t use the phrase “human versions” as, in neither case, the comic, or the current, could any of these characters be considered even remotely human.

It is a daily struggle to find balance these days. Some days it works, some days it doesn’t. Some nights I find myself awake at 2 or 3 AM just floundering trying to get back to sleep with many of these thoughts racing around. Couple all of that with the passing of Abbey THE dog who, even though I’ve had pets most of my life, managed to attach herself to my heart unlike any of the others.

I am just now beginning to find the balance of that part of life, the part without her. I am making a concerted effort to return to being active, something that this winter has really blocked. The town pool was (and as of this writing still is) closed so my main solace, swimming laps, won’t start up again for a few weeks when our community pool reopens. Age, being the thief that it is, has pretty much put the kibosh on being able to run but Abbey was the motivation for getting out and walking, even in her last few weeks she still wanted to go, so we would take short strolls as she would tire quickly. When she crossed the bridge, I let my sadness take over and could not motivate myself to get out, then it hit me that she will always be with me, so I have taken up the walking mantle again, and have committed to finishing a 5K the second week of April. I take something of hers with me each day sometimes her collar, sometimes an old tag we had for her collar in case she got loose, sometimes just the lock of her hair that the vet clipped for us on “the day”. There are days I can actually hear her barking with another dog walks by.

My music playlists vary a lot with my mood, it can go from Bruce to Bocelli. Just a couple of days ago, when I did my longest session at 3.3 miles just to make sure I am able to finish said 5K, I was listening to a fabulous album from Mark Knopfler: Tracker. It turned out to be the perfect length as it covered the entire walk and was just ending when I got back home. A few songs prior to the end is a duet he does with Ruth Moody on the song Wherever I Go. It stopped me in my tracks and my eyes started to drip, ultimately turning into a full scale flood. I imagined it was an exchange Abbey and I had on her last few moments…Here’s what I mean:

It opens with Mark singing: (and me imagining it was what I was saying)

“Maybe I’m bound to wander
From one place to the next
Heaven knows why

But in the wild blue yonder
Your star is fixed in my sky

Then Ruth (in my mind, Abbey’s voice) chimes in

Just another bar at a crossroads
So far from home
But that’s alright

Whenever I’m going down a dark road
I don’t feel alone in the night

Now they sing together

There’s a place in my heart
Though we’re far apart
May you always know
No matter how long since I saw you
I’ll keep a flame there for you

Wherever I go“

then there is a brief interlude with his fabulous guitar bridging to his next part (I am a mess at this point)

Mark (me)

They’re looking to close up in here
They’re pulling down the blinds
But they’ll let you stay awhile
They’re not going to mind

Ruth Moody (Abbey)

Now I’ve got to leave you, brother
So this round’s mine
Here’s looking at you, anyhow
You can go on and have another
They won’t call time
I’m going to say my goodbyes now

Finally, they sing the chorus together after which Mark plays it out for another 2 minutes as only he can:

There’s a place in my heart
Though we’re far apart
May you always know
No matter how long since I saw you
I’ll keep a flame there for you
Wherever I go

The picture with the bow she was still with us, saying her goodbyes “now”, the one without, she had crossed and the song was fading out

While I still tear up, even now as I type, I can smile a lot more about the time we had with her, so I guess the state of the union is such that it remains inconsistently unbalanced.

No matter how long since I saw you, I’ll keep a flame there for you, wherever we go..

It’s been a dark few weeks, the loss of Abbey THE dog still lingers, though it’s easier to think of her and to look at the pictures and the memories. I still take something of hers with me when I go for a walk. The state of the nation is an ongoing daily series of gut punches. I am walking a very fine line between wanting to avoid it at all costs, but also knowing that is exactly the wrong tactic. Awareness, coupled with being as vocal about the dire circumstances and doing all I can to raise awareness of the incredible self centered, “mine, mine, mine” mentality without an ounce of regard to humanity currently pretending to govern a nation that exists because of the opposition to being ruled by Kings demanding only fealty. The attacks and threats on a free press, on the arts (really…a fool who thinks capital letter tweets represents “art”, installing himself as the head of the Kennedy Center for the arts simply because of his fear that they might greenlight something critical of him). It is already as if the NYTimes whose masthead once proclaimed “All The News That’s Fit To Print” has become NYPravda. The Washington Post, yes the Wapo that broke Watergate is now censoring cartoonists to the point of having them resign on principal, something that neither publication seems to have any longer.

The hard fact that my father and his generation spilled blood and with many giving their lives to make sure that Adolf circa 1930’s Germany and Benito in Italy and The Emperor in Japan did not become the global leaders had given way Adolf 2025 and his minions rising up and attempting to do exactly what those heroes from ’41-45 prevented is difficult to read about. Even harder to deal with is the realization that ignorance, lack of interest in truthful information, and a fear of anyone or anything different has become almost normalized. Since 2016, lies, inaccuracies, fear mongering, has become the standard in so many places. The systematic dismantling of decade long policies designed to provide oversight and checks and balances gets worse each day. With consumer prices skyrocketing, and social programs designed to help the most needy among us cut or thrown away completely, we have Adolf 2025 spending his time on his golf courses, taking a crew of sycophants to the Super Bowl, and using his granddaughter as a prop so he can be driven around the Daytona track. Truly Nero fiddling while Rome burns (likely a reference that fewer and fewer will get with the decimation of the Department of Education, after all, an ignorant populous is easier to manipulate…something that continues to be proven daily). The desire for unnecessary expansionism, renaming things to suit his whims continues to put international relationships that go back a few centuries at risk, while looking to align himself (and thus this nation) with tyrants. It has become as if The Tudors was not a TV show, but an actual portent of the future.

Couple all of this tsoris with the realization that my age and with it the accompanying physical limitations, mean there are far more Nevers than even Maybes is becoming harder and harder to deal with. I have come to the realization that as much as I really still want to do it, I will never again get on a surfboard, never again start and finish a half marathon, likely never again even do a 5K other than to walk it (and that’s a stretch “maybe”), never again walk a full 18 holes carrying my own clubs (hell it’s hard enough with my arthritic hands to be able to play 18 holes riding a cart). I will never again be “19 forever” (with a nod to Joe Jackson). There are a lot more nevers I’m dealing with, but enough gloom is enough…

Yes, I’m still active. Yes I’m self sufficient and consistently above ground. Yes I can (and love to ) laugh and enjoy music of all kinds. Yes I have an amazing side kick on this roller coaster ride along the cradle-grave timeline.

However….

“…it’s no, nay, never
No, nay, never, no more
Will I play the wild rover
No, never, no more“

It’s no secret that I am constantly confronted with mortality. From anniversaries of loved one’s passing, to looking at the calendar and simply understanding that 2025 is not something I ever thought of back in 1995, it seemed so very far away that it was crazy. What makes it even harder is watching Abbey THE dog beginning to run her final lap. There are moments where she is excited the way she has always been, but most of the time she just paces, either in the house or out in the yard. She always wants to go out, regardless of. the cold, heat, or even in the rain (she has always hated the rain, making it even more hard to watch) and when she goes out all she does is pace around the yard, back and forth, back and forth. Very occasionally she will lay down in the sun, but while she used to do that a lot, that is now the exception. Her back legs are weak and she has a hard time standing to eat her food, so much so that we have a rubber mat coming to make it easier on her. Where she used to spend all of her time laying down near us, recently she has taken to going into one of the guest rooms and laying between the two twin beds by herself. She will still spend most of the night in her bed in our bedroom but will always roust around 3 AM and need to go out and even then sometimes later in the morning she will leave a present or two after we fall back asleep.

I know the day is coming where we will need to make a decision, fortunately today is not yet that day. I keep hoping very selfishly that one morning I will find her peacefully asleep on the rug by her bowl where she has spent a lot of her time. Even though her legs are weak (and believe me I get the age impacting on all things physical, another punctuation mark on my own struggle), she doesn’t seem to be in any additional major discomfort, it more the seeming to slip away cognitively a little more each day.

Anyway…I just felt the need to say it somehow and this was as good a place as any….I’ll let some of Dan’s lyrics from the song that shares its title with this post take it out, all the while wondering if dogs do have memories and do dream

Sometimes in the night I feel it
Near as my next breath and yet untouchable
Silently the past comes stealing
Like the taste of some forbidden sweet
Along the walls in shadowed rafters
Moving like a thought through haunted atmospheres
Muted cries and echoed laughter
Banished dreams that never sank in sleep
Lost in love and found in reason
Questions that the mind can find no answers for
Ghostly eyes conspire treason
As they gather just outside the door
And every ghost that calls upon us
Brings another measure in the mystery
Death is there to keep us honest
And constantly remind us we are free
Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of days that we’ve left behind
Down the ancient corridors
And through the gates of time
Run the ghosts of dreams that we left behind