I have not been really pleased with the blog tools from GoDaddy not to mention the ridiculous amounts of spam I get in comments from Russian pharmacuticles.

I invite you to join me at my new blog located at:

http://theafternoontide.blogspot.com/


Already have a new post complete with pretty pictures and al. Come visit me

      Our last family vacation was to colonial Williamsburg back in the summer of 1981. Mom, Dad, twelve year old me, and a two year old Mary piled in the 69” Impala which we inherited through a death in the family and began the adventure we still talk about.

          My father came from the school of thought that if we were going to spend the money then a vacation was not about relaxing by a pool but learning something.  I’d be jealous when I’d hear about my friends going to Disneyland or some exotic cruise somewhere. My father felt that family vacations were about being together as a family and learning. We stopped at more mile markers to read what happened there than I care to remember. Apparently, there were a whole lot of Union encampments between Young Harris, GA and Virginia.

          The trip up was unremarkable and I have no real memories of it. Coming back was when the Clark Griswold dial was set to 11. Mary and I got irritable so Mom and Dad separated us to look at the sights. Mary was almost eaten by a goose. Mom lost it when I decided that I’d buy a tin flute and felt the need to practice as we strolled around. (How was I going to get any better?) On the way out of town, the Impala overheated and caught on fire. My father’s mood was not cheery. My mother kept whispering to my sister and myself to not draw attention which only made things worse.  It was the perfect opportunity to play a rousing game of “Who can make the most annoying noise ever?”

The kicker was Williamsburg is right next to Busch Gardens Amusement Park. Seeing that we were stuck in Williamsburg, why not go? I even tried to sweeten the deal by telling my dad that all adults got a free beer. I can’t remember the exact words but the gist was something about hell freezing over and how that would be the most expensive beer he would never buy.  We didn’t travel 3 states just so I could go ride a rollercoaster in Virginia besides that is what Six Flags over Atlanta was for. I wanted to remind him that he never had taken me or Mary to Six Flags over Atlanta but the vein throbbing on his already reddened forehead suggested I should go back to one of my books. I did and got to live for another day.

We finally made it home and life resumed back to normal. I started 8^th grade in the fall. Mary began kindergarten. We all moved on. My grandparents’ age began to show so our vacations began to be about staying in Savannah and helping them. By the time life settled down, we were all in a place where vacations could be avoided; I was well into college with fraternity parties, girlfriends, and independence. Mary was in high school and too cool to go. We took a few small trips but never quite on that same scale as the Williamsburg trip

I am typing this story in a condo in St. Augustine with my new family. As you read this I have to admit that I have been struggling with the ghost of my father the whole time. I suddenly have a greater appreciation for what he and Mom did for us kids by taking us on a big family vacation. I have to admit that it can be a huge pain in the ass. I also have to admit that I have never laughed more in my life. Sad to say that most of my laughter is pointed at all the Dad-like things that I have had to say. While the kids have been great, I find myself surprised at how well I have adjusted to how different my life is now compared to six months ago.

Back in the late spring, Kim and I decided we wanted to all go on a family vacation and she invited me to attend. When picking out the places, guess what I was drawn to? It was someplace historical so the kids could learn. Thanks, Dad.

We get to our resort condo which is next to a putt-putt course complete with giant pirate ship and soft serve ice cream. Guess where the first place the kids want to go and my father-soaked response? Thanks, Dad.

          Yesterday at the pool I found myself dealing with two hungry kids sneaking one pack of Girl Scout Trefoils out of their mom’s beach bag before dinner.  Guess who said put those back or we are going back to the room? Thanks, Dad.

          Sitting on the beach yesterday, I watched the most beautiful girl I know play in the water with her two awesome kids with boogie boards. In spite of hearing nothing but all the complaints of carrying the beach chairs, towels, toys, from the little ones, guess who realized that he was having one of the most perfect moments in his entire life? Thanks, Dad…….

                                       Vacation Observations

1.   When a seven year old boy is quiet and not playing Nitendo DS, something is about to go down.
2. No one really ever wants to hear the phrase from a seven year old, “I just filled my belly button to the top with my own spit.”
3. Another phrase I never thought I’d say out loud, “Jude, quit trying to put that bucket on that pigeon.”
4. Yet one more phrase:  “For the love of God, please finishing drying off  and put some underwear on before watching Sponge Bob in the living room.”
5. Never take a seven year old into a Publix crowded with senior citizen after giving him a light saber.
6. How many times must I have to repeat to same seven year old: “Please look at where you are swinging that damn light saber and please look at the level of my groin is.”
7. It’s hard not feel creepy when explaining about groin level and being naked in the living room to seven year old.
8. Using the phrase, “I’m bringing sexy back.” Does not go over well over breakfast with girlfriend and ten year old daughter.
9. Pancakes should be passed around on plates and not thrown.
10. Nutella is not part of the food pyramid.

Three more days and we have not gone sightseeing yet. Watch your local news. It's going to get interesting.

So I am having serious insurance issues with my carrier, Cigna. Basically they broke their contract with my dialysis center, RAI and now I can no longer attend there unless I am willing to pay the about 800 bucks out of pocket. I do not want to switch because my center does a much better job than the others which I have used when I first came to Savannah.  What makes it more complicated, was I was about to start nocturnal home hemo training which would really be an amazing thing for me and RAI is the only center that offers this treatment.

My doctor told me back in March not to worry because I could apply for a continuity of care. This would be denied three months by Cigna later as well as a 2100 plus bill for services rendered at RAI. This wonderful lady at Human Resources at my school board helped me out( A sentence I never thought I’d type) and has gotten me an appeal with the state level insurance. All I am asking is to be released from Cigna so I can go to United Healthcare who has a contract with RAI. Earlier in the week I received a letter stating that my case would be reviewed and someone would get back with me between 30-90 days.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to wait. Right now is summer vacation and I had allotted a portion of it to do my nocturnal training. It will take a few weeks and I am unable to do both and work at the same time.

Now someone down at Cigna, Christy Copeland, has been working with me but over the string of phone calls I can’t help but wonder if I am being put off. Copeland insists that I am good to go and can’t be refused because I use Medicare and that Cigna will pay for my services including the 3 months during the appeal. When I ask for this in writing, I get the runaround. It sounds great but she has made no attempt to call RAI to let them know this in spite of promising me that she has and will call on several occasions. RAI has never heard from her. Furthermore, her story changes every phone call. She keeps try to suggest that I could just go to another center because home hemo is the same. It’s not which I keep trying to explain.

So where do I go? This is what I am asking you. I am currently writing letters for my congressman and I have also contacted the state insurance board. Can I do anything else? I have been calling daily to this lady at Cigna and now all I get are voice mails   

I have considered contacting the local news station because I know there are others in this situation. I have even looked at social media. Last night I posted about this on my Facebook and got several responses all involving issues with Cigna. Should I create a page about the lack of customer service for Cigna? I have hard time with that last one because it feels a bit silly. The issue for me is that I am asking for something quite reasonable and tired of being treated like I do not matter. Any suggestions would be great. Please help me out!

Father’s Day is one of my least favorite days of the year and for the obvious reason. Not having a dad on this particular day can really single one out. It goes without saying that the old man and I got to be pretty close. The amazing parenting skills that Dad and Mom used to make me who and my sister are today becomes so evident on a daily basis. As a teacher, I find myself using the same pearls of wisdom that the old man dispensed on a regular basis and the results are the same. My students don’t listen to me anymore than I did for him when I was a kid. Oh well, gotta learn from your mistakes which should make me a genius by now.

When my dad died back in 1999, I just assumed that somewhere or somehow there would be some sort older male mentor would appear in my life to help me out from time to time. Everyone should have an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Yet somehow, it never happened. A couple of guys popped up but it was never right and I was always left feeling disappointed.  About this time last year, was when I made my realization. It’s not going to happen. After having a Dad like I did, there is no second act. This thought used to depress me but now I am quite cool with it.

Furthermore, a new role is becoming evident in my life. I get to be Obi-Wan now. For the past eight years, I’ve been doing it for students but now I have two little ones that have become pretty precious to me. My girlfriend’s little girl and boy are pretty awesome and sadly enough, their father is not in the picture in any sort of helpful way.

The more time I spend with Kim, the more that I realize that I am not just in love with her but also her children. I knew this was a package deal going into this but had no idea that I could possibly love three very unique individuals the way that I do. Going into this, I knew I’d get along with the kids because I always seem to have that knack. All along, I’ve not lied to myself and made sure that I realize that even though we are all together, I am not their father. As much as I’ve enjoyed our time together, I have never allowed myself to forget this. I’ve understood my place and have been fine with it. Until now…

Over the past few weeks, it’s moved along to a new level. The four of us have seemed to form this bizarre little nuclear family for the new millennium. I say bizarre because I have no words to explain what my role is. I just understand that I am a part of this family now and I love every minute of it.

Friday, the gang came over because it was the little guy’s seventh birthday. When Kim asked him what he wanted, my new sidekick told her that he wanted to swim in my pool and for me to make my pancakes with real bacon on the side. This floored me because I equate pancakes with my dad. Every Sunday, Dad would make pancakes before we had to go to church and I look back at those meals as some of my favorite times of my life.

Now, it’s my turn to make the pancakes. The spatula has been passed so to say. I am proud to say that my birthday blueberry pancakes turned out well and everyone was happy especially me. These kids really want me to be a part of their lives and I plan to be there.  They’ve made me understand something the Old Man used to say to me about Father’s Day. Dad used to always say that every day was father’s day when you love your family. Happy Father’s Day………

 

Ass Satchel

adj. 1. Phrase for not just being an ass but an ass carrying mulitple asses.
2. Really huge jerk surpasing douchery.

EXAMPLE:   Henry acts like such an ass satchel when he tries to impress folks with his knowledge of current events.



This is a new word that I invented about a week ago. My girlfriend and I were joking around when it just came up. We tried to add it to the urban dictionary but someone else came up with a different definition.
 
Obviously, I like mine more. It just feels good when used in a sentence. Go ahead and call someone who deserves it. Ass satchel will become your favorite new word.There is a lot of empowerment that comes from a correctly used term like this.

On some crazy level, I have this dream that Ass satchel will catch on and become a new word or phrase. It has always amazed me to see how little words or phrases become part of our venacular. I am still surprised when I hear, "hellacool." If the guys from South Park can add to our vocabulary, why not me?

While it's not at the top of my bucket list like writing a book or swimming with great whites, I've always wanted to create some sort of fad or trend. Back in high school, my friend, Peter Lee and I tried to see if we could start a rumor about someone famous. Somehow we selected Curt Smith from Tears for Fears and how he had died in a tragic motorcycle wreck. This was years before the internet so the rumor actually spread thorughout Towns County and was discusses heavily on many high school bus ramps. Eventually, it petered out and we had moved on to something else. This was about the time that Duran Duran broke into their solo projects so Peter and I would argue about who was better: Power Station or Arcadia. In the end we both realized both projects kinda suxed.

So I invite you to join me in my little experiment. Feel free to make Ass Satchel part of your vernacular. Use freely and frequently.  It;s been my experience that there are quite a few Ass Satchels that need recognizing.

Five years ago, a blue Nissan pulled into Savannah loaded to the brim with laundry, books, CDs, and a very irritated old dog riding shogun. It took me 38 years but I finally pulled off the first of many lifelong dreams by returning home to Savannah and becoming a full time resident. That first month Belle the dog and I shacked up at my mom's as we began the home hunting process.

Looking back, I realize the memories are a bit fuzzy. I was really angry and hurt from the divorce and felt like I limped away to lick my wounds. If I wasn't looking for a new place to live, I was busy studying for my tour guide test which would lead to me driving a herse around town for the summer and giving ghost tours. A lot of time was spent at Panera or the Coastal Coffe Place in Sandfly where I abused my wifi privileges.

It goes without saying that I have a flair for the overdramatic so eventually I began to deal with all the frustration and pain by crating the metaphor that I was a the Phoenix rising from the ashes in some form of rebirth. I am chuckling as I type this but, hey, it got me through a rough patch. I decided that I was starting fresh so therefore I had the right to decorate the apt as I saw fit. Big surprise that I opted for the Tiki Bar look. 

It wasn't all very good news. As the move in day loomed nearer, I realized that only one of us would actually be able to live in the new digs. Belle was 13 years old and had begun to show her age. Her back hips began to go and walking was becoming very impossible. One night I watched my old friend drag her useless back legs and couldn't ge inside the house. She looked at me witht his embarassed look and I swear she told me in her own way that it was time and it was OK.

The next day, we went to Petsmart and I held her until she was gone. I buried Belle in her favorite spot at Mom's under the big live oak by the house. To this day, I think she actually hung on long enough to know that I was going to be all right down here.  

As a result of the death of my partner in crime, I made the decision to do something so I'd also have a good memory of this day. I went down to the Salvage Shop off of Franklin Square. I took the neon light that my ex had left behind advertising Parrot Bay (which I hate) and made a deal to trade for one of their fiberglass shark heads. Going home was a treat because I couldn't fit the damn thing in my car so it hung out the window. The looks alone made it all worth it.  

Sharky McSharkerson ( as I named him) hung over the fireplace in the new apt and I told everyone it was my divorce gift to myself because I knew I'd never would have gotten away with it while indentured, I mean married. In truth it's also a memorial to my very special buddy who was always at my side. I think a lot about Belle and wish that she would have been able to be with me at this point in my life.
 
It's been five years and I nowhere near the person that drove in back on June 1st. I am happy with myself and comfortable with my strengths and also my weaknesses. I miss my friends from Atlanta but have made some great friends down here. The anger is gone and have been replaced with an appreciation of the life that I have been given. I even went out and got myself a girlfriend complete with kids and I them all very dearly. I don't think Jimmy Buffett will get too mad if I lift one of his song titles to close with and say that "I have Found Me a Home."   

I know, I know. Where have I been? We were doing so well there for a while. I kept posting and you kept reading. We had the start of something beautiful and then I blew it by ignoring you and your reading needs for a while. I’m working on it.

Truth be known, I have not felt like writing or sharing very much lately. Things are very good but I refuse to use this blog as my happy-all-is-well-I’m-in-love forum. Ms. Lone Star and I doing quite well It just keeps getting better.  I feel like I have found something that comes along once in a lifetime

I guess what has been on my mind is a few issues I am dealing with. Some of these issues are minor and others just keep growing like the proverbial fat kid living next to an ice cream truck

What is interesting is that to talk about these issues poses the question of what is appropriate and inappropriate to discuss in a blog. While this is something that people read, I do not consider any of this real journalism. So what right do I have to mention others especially not in a positive light? What is fair game and what is off limits? What can possibly get me fired?

Teaching is my life and I love it but lately, it’s wearing me down. I know it’s the end of the year and I always get like this but I have additional stressors to contend with. The school system is playing their famous “We Have No Money in our Budget” tune yet school board members keep getting raises. I have not had a raise in four years. They increase my years of experience or steps but no pay comes with it. They’ve not sent out contracts yet which is also making me nervous.

The biggest problem and I am not sure how much I can discuss because I am dealing with an individual who is making my life, my colleagues, and most of the school that is involved in this situation quite miserable. I really wish I could share more but I go back to my original statement. How much can I share and in this case not get in legal trouble? Confidentiality is involved but I will say that I have never worked with anyone who literally acts like one of that bad 80s movie evil executives. Needles to say, this individual is trolling for a reason serve a lawsuit so that’s all I got to say about that. I will go out on a limb and close by saying that somewhere is a tornado with a house waiting to fall on this person. That felt good……

I am having a personal problem with a family member that I love and respect a lot but I am afraid that is beginning to slip away. Once again, how much to say and what is fair to share? I’d love to get it out in the open and hear others opinions. It’s how I deal with many of my issues but I was also raised that family doesn’t openly air dirty laundry. It’s not proper and I kind of agree. What is funny is that when I stated this blog, I promised myself to completely open and truthful even if I was wrong and the jerk in the situation. Unfortunately, to do this would entail all of the above which I am against. Oh well, back to therapy….

Lately, I have had a few friends just up and die on me and my Young Harris Family. First, it was Kevin and now my sorority sister, Ginger. These are people that I was 18 years old with and now they are gone forever. We are now in our 40s and I keep telling myself that there’s more to come so quit acting surprised. I am not a kid anymore even though I still feel like I am.  I feel guilty because there is a part of me that is angry about all this. Sure, it is more than unfair to their families. Trust me I know this one. There is a small part of me that feels guilty because this totally blows that false sense of security that I have regarding my own mortality. It’s selfish but I said be honest. Sorry.

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.I promise that the next post will be more fun. I guess that I just needed to vent a little here. Have a great Mother's Day.  I intend to have a very fun one with Ms. Lone Star and her two bobbins, Captain Video Game and Li'l Miss Event Planner. We are cooking a very special Mother's Day Lunch. The prospect of spaghetti tacos is quite appealing and I look forward in trying it.

So by now, it’s become pretty obvious that I am head over heels in love and even better, it’s mutual. It’s been a few years since I’ve allowed myself to be this happy and I must admit that I do rather enjoy this stupid grin that won’t seem to go away.  It’s a good time to be the king in my little realm and life just keeps getting better. It’s a new dynamic for me too because for the first time, I am seriously dealing with a g/f who is also a mother.  

We’ll call her Miss Lone Star and has two, what sound to be, pretty neat kids. She’s raising them on her own which always have my respect. From her stories and comments, I can tell she has put these kids in front of her own needs and has done a great job being a parent.

Somehow, I have dodged that bullet for many years. I have often gotten from students, friends, potential suitors, crazy exes, the whole why-don’t-you-have kids- bit? For years, I have played it off and have pat answers like, “I’m not ready” or “I am too selfish to be a parent.” If I was being honest, I have to admit they are all lies.

It’s no secret that I hold my parents in high regard. They did a great job on being parents with my sister and me. The older I get, the more I do or say something and realize the old man is channeling through me (which probably explains the strange urge I get to whistle when I walk into libraries and a love for Crispy Wheat and Raisins.) The fact of the matter is that I really do want to be a parent at some point in my life. I am just afraid.

The issue becomes two points. First, am I too old? It bothers me that I could be at little Robert Tecumseh’s(yes, that is what I want to name my child. Once again, story for another day.) little league game and possibly be mistaken for his grandpa or much older uncle. The biggest issue I have only admitted to a few and it is this—I am afraid that my kidney issues could be passed on and I don’t want that. I am really OK with my current state but I also remember very clearly how difficult it was for me when I was five.

Being little and in the hospital sucks but it’s even worse with kidney issues because the doctor has to deal with areas that way too personal for a five year old. Some of the procedures were pretty freaky no matter how well they explained it. On occasion, I still have bad dreams from it. I don’t want my child to have to deal with that.

So where does that leave me? For the past 10 or so years, I have just decided to play the role of fun adopted uncle to all my friends with children. It’s a role that I play well and I enjoy it. As much as I joke about how much I hate kids, it’s an act. My friends have some remarkable little young un’s and I enjoy them all. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I am a little jealous when I hear stories about my godchildren from Carlos or something funny Sanders did with Rags. When I watched my buddy, Sammy, deal with a tantrum from his daughter, Ashley, it was the first time I realized we had grown out of being wacky frat boys and were responsible adults.   

I am standing at the edge of a new frontier with Miss Lone Star. We both know that for our relationship to continue, I am going to have to meet the kids and develop a relationship with them too. I recognize how serious this is and acknowledge the responsibility involved.

Last night, I was at a party and a good friend kept interrogating me about my relationship with Miss Lone Star. Apparently, she had gone through a similar course with her husband and wanted to fill me in. It was nice thing I know she intended for me and I listened carefully to every word. The funny thing was that I pretty much had already thought over most of what was shared.

Don’t get me wrong. There is no smugness and my attitude is far from having a real clue what I am doing. I have looked at the situation and come to realize that people like Miss Lone Star don’t happen but once or even twice in my life. To reject any sort of future because I am afraid of the responsibility and more than a bit scared would not only be stupid but I also feel, cowardly.  I’m nervous but also very excited because it’s a new aspect of my life I have never really had the chance to experience. I am sure that it will be difficult and more than a little frustrating.

At the same time, I look at the faces of friends that are parents and recognize they have a contentment that I have never had the opportunity to experience. One step at a time but at least I know that I am ready for the rollercoaster ride that I expect will be coming. Buckle up. It might get bumpy.

They say that people die in threes. I guess that is true because it’s happened to me over that past few days. My friend and adopted little sister, Courtney lost her brother to a tragic motorcycle accident. On Saturday, Mary and I were walking to the Melting Point for Mr. & Mrs. Jr’s wedding reception (Which BTW, did not offer fondue as the name would suggest…) when my buddy, Shaun, texted me to let me know that our basketball coach passed. Capt. Tony would hit me up next through F/B to tell me that our old buddy, Kevin Kerr, was in hospice.

As I look back at my relationship with Kevin, it saddens me to realize that while we were at Young Harris College, I never really took advantage of getting to him. Frankly, I wasn’t fond of him in those days and I now understand it was because he intimidated my fragile male ego of 18 years.  I find it odd that many of the people that I have come to love and respect start off like this with many bumps in our road to a relationship.

Even in our youth, Kevin displayed himself with a sense of style and class that would make many feel inadequate. I don’t know if he was faking it but Kevin always came off like he knew exactly what he wanted and what he was doing. This always frustrated my younger self which basically went through life without a rudder. Kevin had a wit sharper than any knife sold on late night infomercials.  I have often thought that in retrospect, Oscar Wilde would have had to walk away because of the amount of charm and wit that Kevin would exude within a room.

Like many of us, it would take graduating from YHC and having to deal with people in the real world to finally get me to appreciate the finer aspects of Kevin’s character. It first happened at Andy Roger’s Christmas party back in 1993. Kevin arrived and he did something that has influenced how I enter a every party I have gone to ever since. As he walked in the day saying hello to everyone, he greets Andy with a present and said, “I have always been told it was in bad taste to show up empty handed to a party. “

Kevin presented Andy and his wife, Jennifer, with a nice bottle of wine. Kevin also reached into his bag with a bag of freshly baked dog biscuits for Andy’s lab puppy. It was such a simple gesture but Kevin did in a way with such style and class that I have stolen that bit of etiquette from him and does that to this very day. Thank you, sir.

My fondest memory of Kevin was around the summer of 1999. Our friend Susan aka “The Fog” was famous for throwing these awesome BBQs. Not to mention that Susan never meets a stranger, so the guest list was very eclectic and interesting. Nick, Gid, Rags, and I show up fashionably late and I am already on the road to being drunk. It was special because our friend, David Dowd, was also with us. David literally ran away and joined the circus but that is another story.

Two major events would happen that night. Rags and I would meet this really attractive nurse, Maria. I always like to say that it was my drunken charm that ran Maria into the arms of Rags but I really think these two were destined to be together no matter what dumb thing I said. They have been married for some time and have this awesome kid, Sanders.

The second event was that I ran into Kevin and we just hit it off for some reason though I am inclined to believe it was the alcohol. I can’t remember what my beverage of choice was that night but it failed to meet Kevin’s expectations so we ended up sharing his bottle of high end, chilled vodka and drinking them out of little tea cups. For the rest of the night, we laughed and joked around and just kept cracking each other up. At some point, I vaguely remember sitting in the background so we could have a better vantage point of the party outside and comment on all the activities. A friendship was born or more likely fermented.

Some people have issues with  Facebook but I am quite fond of it. It is because of F/B that I have been able to keep up with my friends like Kevin. I always enjoy reading his posts and witty little comments. Many times, though, I got to see the softer, poetic side of him. I always loved reading those 30 Things About Me when he answered back. To this day, I have never read anyone that could make friend chicken sound like a delicacy the way Kevin could write. Once again, I’m a little jealous.

I wish I could actually see my friend to tell him this and share how much richer my life is because of our very short time together. Looking at the wall on Kevin’s Facebook page, I can tell that I am not the only one who has a fondest for our friend. I don’t know who said it but somewhere the comment was made that one can tell a person’s worth by the quality of his friends. Kevin may well be the richest man I know.