Two weeks into a six-week solo voyage, I finally felt my nervous system start to settle. Settle after nine months of constant alert, nine months of wonder, nine months of life on hold. Since April, my Dad's throat cancer has been clear, but the lung is being watched, and the trach had to come out weeks after the last radiation. My Mom has been holding her own. They're stable, and for the most part, my autoimmune chaos has been manageable. Mom and Dad needed me here, in the states, so I took a few weeks this summer to scratch off a handful of National Parks and a dream--long overdue--road trip I've long talked about. So, two weeks into a six-week hiking trip, I finally felt myself settle. The solitude has been a welcome relief from nights and days of endless dark wonder. In Montana, after visiting Kansas City, Wind Cave and the Badlands in South Dakota, Yellowstone and Grand Teton, and Custer State Park (SD), I felt myself...
Things I did this week: 1. On Friday I went and saw my long time friend debut in his first off-off Broadway play. Our paths have traversed since our college days involving copious amounts of beer and cheap vodka (okay, I was the connoisseur of pure rot gut cherry vodka and Pepsi (we were a Pepsi campus) and he was the consumer of Natty Light . . . and yes, Natty Light trumps the swill cherry vodka I poured down my throat for nastiest of the super-fly po man's brews. Hands down. Sorry. Not Sorry.). We realized after the show that for the first time in our decades plus evolution I got to watch him on stage and didn't have to do anything back stage. Yea, twisted not-so little secret . . . I was theater tech back in the day. Haven't done anything with it since some point in my mid 20s I'd guess. Like a jackass, I forget to get a pic of our mugs but rest assured . . . The Actor's Theater held a great three-day run of Exodus's first play Murder...
An Emporia, VA sunset. In the run of things, 2024 was one of the hardest years of my life. It began with a friend dying unexpectedly, and it ended with a new heart wound that I'm still processing. It's been dark around here these days. It's been dark for ages, actually. My Dad's cancer was confirmed before Thanksgiving, the Wednesday the week before, to be precise. In a phone call, as he was driving home (and stopping to see my Mom), I called him, and he told me. He'd barely found out himself. Then . . . Then, I made a phone call to an old friend of mine. Little did I know that act would undo me. Back in 2020, shortly after my sister passed, I was told that when it came to the heartbreaking, bad news, we called each other . . . no more texting things like "my sister has cancer" and "my sister died." It made sense; she insisted that we call from now on. In all these years of being separated by ocean and ...
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