My Journal 182

Vascular Dementia

Hmmm, a big scientific word isn’t it?

Vascular Dementia is caused by a stoppage of blood flow to the brain causing memory loss, personality changes, and several other challenges. It is usually caused through a stroke in older individuals. But low and behold they now believe that numerous concussions can alter the blood flow to the brain as well. Symptoms of this ailment are lack of sleep, no interest in eating, personality changes, and memory loss.

If you ever saw the movie with Harrison Ford titled, “Regarding Henry” it would define the challenge. Harrison Ford was shot. It severed an artery and cut off the blood flow to his brain. Hence after a year of recovery he was a completely different person with limited memory of the past.

So . . . . . I know this guy . . . .

He had his eighth concussion last year and his ninth earlier this year. After the eighth concussion he was tested. The result . . . .

By Christmas of 2011 he could have no memory of anyone that has been in his life. He would have emotional highs and lows because his past (which dictated who he is today) would be gone. He would appear as an idiot because he couldn’t remember the simple things even though his brain was still fully functional.

Yup, all of his friends and everything they have shared over the years would vanish from his memory. He wouldn’t know them, remember them, or remember any times that they once shared.

That alone is enough to drive a man insane. So while he still had a brain he devised a plan.

1.     Beg his friends to write him about their lives so he can read and know.

2.     Beg his friends to send updated pictures so he could see them and hopefully remember.

3.     Beg his friends to stay in touch with him, and visit as often as possible.

4.     Write down his thoughts so his friends could remember who he is, even if he no longer is that person, and hopefully remind him.

His part was easy. Convincing others to help him out while knowing that based on his definition of deceit he was lying to them daily was a complete and total failure. His friends ignored his requests for many varied reasons. Several of his friends had already commented that he was forgetting about things. He was trying very hard. Yet he was not one to be “coddled” so sharing what he was going through was NEVER going to happen.

Well, today he has a bit of good news. Presumably because of his regular and intense exercise regiment, his excellent health, and his “never say die” attitude; the blood flow to his brain has increased. Basically he is exercising himself back to living.

I guess god made him an athlete for a reason, huh? And all along I thought it was just to get laid.

Things are improving and his memory is good. He does have a few blanks in the past year or so, but they should return in time. The lack of sleep and lack of eating will probably continue, but he is sort of used to it now anyway. And yes, he will remember all of his friends this Christmas . . . supposedly.

I wonder if they would consider that good news or not though.

He mentioned that he was so sad to have kept this from his friends. He did hint at it a few times, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Everyone was so busy with their lives that his hints went unnoticed. Anyway, his mom always said he was too mean to die. Hell was afraid of him and Heaven wouldn’t accept him. So fortunately he will be around and alert for a while.

I learned a valuable lesson through this, which is obviously the only reason I am sharing this story. If you have someone that you consider a friend then pay attention to them. If they ask for something, even if it seems a bit odd, either ask why or just do it. But don’t just ignore their requests. They actually could be desperately trying to help you while helping themselves at the same time.

And they may care for you so much that they wouldn’t want to lose you or even forget you.

Treat your friends every day like it’s their last day. Tell them how you feel, what you think, and what you need. If they know they have a limit on their time they may be able to find what you need sooner. And don’t avoid friends or put things off until later.

Tomorrow could be too late.

My Journal 181

I’m not the type of person that requires acknowledgement for things I do. But on occasion I would enjoy a tiny bit of recognition. It is nice to be noticed once in a while, right?

Last summer I was offered an award by the city. That was sort of cool. But it wasn’t as great as it could have been because the person I asked to attend this event with me never replied. I ended up taking my buddy the judge as a last second stand in. He gave a good presentation speech, but that event turned out to be less than stupendous because of the “stood up” effect; so that one doesn’t count.

[A slap to the ass of the person that ruined it!]

This morning I got a call from a chick with which I went to High School. Apparently we have an Alumni Association and she is the President. Go figure!

I think I mentioned in previous journals that my High School added an awards case that is the length of a football field. It is rather impressive too. Well someone has decided that it would be cool to have some kind of a grand opening of this case (even though it’s been there for a few years). So this someone has picked about 20 past students that are represented in this case, and have asked the Alumni Association to track them down and ask them to attend the Homecoming game this year for a gala halftime presentation.

[Ho-hum]

I am one of these 20 or so past students that they would like to be a part of this gala. So this chick asked me if I would be willing to attend. Of course they won’t foot the bill for gas or lodging, but it was stressed that this is a big deal and my attendance would be important. Also, each of us will be introduced and our accomplishments will be highlighted during the ceremony.

[Ok, now they’ve got my interest.]

But as I am listening to the sales pitch, I remember that everything I have in that case is related to my Track and Field accomplishments. Yup, Mr. Football doesn’t have a single football related mention in this HUGE awards case. So I asked the question.

“Exactly what accomplishments of mine will you be celebrating?”

Ok, being stood up by a hot chick / friend when you are receiving an award for heroism is bad. But that was a quick decision and the entire event lasted about 3 minutes. Yet spending a life time accomplishing great things in the sport you love, and then being told that you are to be recognized for winning the Sprint Relay in the State Track and Field meet is more anti-climatic.

[Hey, I JUST ran track to stay in shape. I hated it]

Sure, WHEN there was an Official Track and Field meet, the “Alpha male, can’t lose no matter what, and super competitive” me would kick in and I would bust my ass to win. And it is true that there is no way with my personality that I could stand next to another athlete and concede that he is better than me. But it was all just whatever ability I could muster on that day. I didn’t train for it or try to improve myself one bit. I cheated and cut track practice, always did the minimum required, and then ran off to get high.

[Hmmm, run a bunch on a spring afternoon OR hang out with hot chicks in bikinis? Definitely not a tough call for me]

They want me and the other three members of that relay team to be on the field together. Heck, one of those guys I didn’t even like. Sure, we were the fastest four guys in the state that year. But what about my football accomplishments? I wasn’t a bum on the football field ya know!

[Dag-nabbit, this is why I don’t want recognition . . . it ALWAYS gets screwed up]

Needless to say I politely declined. I have no idea if the rest of that relay team will show up or not. I sort of hope at least one other dude doesn’t show up. To be the ONLY member not there would be slightly embarrassing. Oh, but then again I hear that Tony (a member of our relay team) is currently a bum living under a bridge somewhere. So they won’t be able to call him. Well that’s one other no-show.

Anyway, I have decided to give myself an award. And since you all know me you can guess the award I will give myself.

[But deftness with my tongue would be a good hint!]

Hey! Athletics isn’t my only skill!

Anyone want to attend the awards celebration?

My Journal 180

Final Score 48 – 0

That score represents the worst loss I ever had in a football game. As usual there is a story in there too, so here we go.

Bussing was beginning when I was in Junior High. The goal was to mix the races in each school. It didn’t work at all. So by High School it was back to the previous normal. In my district we had the rich white kid’s school, the Hispanic kid’s school, the black kid’s school, and mine which was the white country school.

[No, I am not a racist. This is how things were back then.]

This particular game was the next to last of my sophomore year. This was the year immediately after I had my leg crushed. I played the entire season wearing a knee brace, attached to a brace designed to hold my leg together and attached at the bottom to my cleats. I was nicknamed the bionic man that season because I had more metal on me than pads.

We were playing against one of the top athletes in the state, a senior named Thomas Lott. He was big, strong, smart and unbelievably fast. He was the top quarterback in the state, led the state in rushing yards, ranked fourth in the state in passing yards, and was already signed to play for Oklahoma. He actually quarterbacked Oklahoma for four years making All American three out of four years.

He was a bad ass ball player. I wanted so much to race that kid in track someday, but because of the age difference we were never on the track at the same time.

On that horrific night, my team could do nothing right. We were a bad team as we only won one game all season. But we had played every team very tough thus far, even though we sucked. But that night we were miserable. And they were cocky. There was a lot of “jawing” going on; talk about your mother, your sister and your girlfriend. And we were being beaten physically as well.

Lott threw a 50 yard bomb on the last play of the game, and scored their final touchdown. That put the score at 48 – 0. And their end zone celebration lasted for an eternity. The game was now over, the clock showed no seconds left to play; but they still had to kick their extra point. I was frustrated and embarrassed. And that was about to change.

When they raced onto the field for the extra point try, the sent out the starting offense including Lott. To add additional insult to injury, they were about to go for a two point conversion so they could say they beat us 50 – 0. Immediately my frustration and embarrassment turned to anger. The game was already over and there was no reason to go for two points other than to humiliate someone.

I don’t cope well with that. Yes, I have been in situations where I was getting clobbered and couldn’t stop it. But I always tried. I was now on the losing end of a real “ass-whupping” which I deserved. But I’d be damned if they would humiliate us further.

Even though I was technically crippled that season, I was still fast and good at what I did. This team had avoided me most of the night. I was assigned their top receiver, man to man, all night long. He had a few catches and had racked up about 80 yards of offense. But he hadn’t scored on me and basically had been used as a decoy to keep me away from the real plays.

So when they came out of the huddle and sent the guy I was responsible for all the way to the sideline, I knew it was a decoy move. He lined up a yard from the sideline. They knew the logical move for me was to line up inside of him to take away all his routes. But in doing so, I would have turned my back on the play. Also, it would have left a HUGE gap between me and the next member of my team. So it seemed logical to me that they were trying to position me out of the play and create a gap for Lott to run through for the conversion.

My job was to stay with my man. I knew if I didn’t and they did throw to him, he would be all alone and I would get the ass chewing of a life time. But on that night, on that play, I didn’t care. I knew what they were thinking and I was going to create something positive.

As they lined up I took my position so they could see me. But I glanced back and the formation they were in was exactly what I expected; and Lott was smiling ear to ear. That was when I turned. As they got into their sets I slowly began to move in. By the time Lott was calling his signals I was full speed down the line of scrimmage. Lott never even bothered to look my way.

The ball was snapped and just as I figured, Lott broke to the side. The back and tight end took out our linebacker, leaving Lott with a clear path to the goal. He was just about to begin his celebration when I hit him from the side. I took him completely off of his feet and knocked his helmet to the other side of the field. He landed a yard short of the goal.

For a moment the stadium was silent. Then a load burst came from our fans as they realized, probably while walking out of the stadium, that Lott had been destroyed on the last play of that fateful game. Our team finally had something to celebrate, and we had the last laugh.

The next season Lott was in Oklahoma, but we remembered that night. In our rematch, and with seconds left on the clock, I caught a pass over the middle and ran 30 yards to our 12 yard line. We kicked the winning field goal seconds later, beating the previously undefeated team; and garnishing our payback in full. We had spent an entire year thinking about that game. We never lost another game that season and only lost two the next season, each by 2 points. We had established a fighting tradition.

So, that game was the worst loss I ever experienced. But it was the last loss of that magnitude I or my team would ever endure. I guess some good does come from your darkest moments. Don’t ever give up . . . . and trust me; revenge is a great motivator!

My Journal 179

Ok, this one may be boring for most of you. It has to do with heritage and a special event. Hang around if you want or simply tune in tomorrow.

I am part Cherokee; part English and a little German. My mom told me my anger comes from the German part, my athleticism comes from the Cherokee part, and my looks come from the English part. I would always reply that the English must be really ugly.

I wrote once before about how my great grandfather and great grandmother met. Well their son, my grandfather, took the time to try to teach me as much of my Cherokee heritage as he could. Some things took and of course some didn’t. But this week, something that I always found very important happens.

It is called “The night of Arrows”. On this night, the stars each represent a Cherokee soul that has passed on. I am told that it is a night where your relatives look down on you to see how you are doing, and where you can look up and feel their presence.

[I know, it may sound silly but I can feel it]

It is a big night for many reasons other than this one benefit. Many traditions can be sidestepped on this one night a year. No, it’s not like you can go kill someone or be rude for a night. But you can do certain things which normally weren’t allowed.

For example, give a Cherokee name to someone with no Cherokee heritage. Now you can only do this once a lifetime, but this is the night for it. It’s actually a sign of respect, but many used it as a sign of love. Traditionally, you have to be touching the chest of the person when you assign a Cherokee name. And no, that is not a sexual thing. By placing your hand on the chest you are close to their heart. This is the time you can feel if they believe or not.

You look at your ancestors in the sky, you place your hands on the person, you recite some words, and you select a Cherokee name for them. From that point forward, you are responsible for that person. Not only must you keep them an honorable person, but you are responsible for their well-being. And for them, they have the spirit of your Cherokee ancestors watching over them as well.

[As silly as it sounds it is a big deal]

It was always very difficult to be accepted by the Cherokee’s. The blood line was the most important thing to them. They didn’t bring outsiders into the tribe regularly. Which may be why this is such a big deal to me. My great grandfather was brought in to marry my great grandmother who was Cherokee. Had this not been allowed I would not be here today.

And no, as a great grandson of a Cherokee it is not required that I marry a Cherokee. Giving a Cherokee name is how we show great respect for someone. At least for me that would be the case.

So when this night arrives, and it will be this week, I will be outside looking up to the stars. I will put my life on hold for a moment to remember my relatives, and those for which I am responsible.

[I told you it might be boring]

Back to my normal ramblings tomorrow.

My Journal 178

Since I have to work two Saturday mornings in a row, you get a bonus journal! Let me tell you my Saturday work schedule.

First, no one EVER gets in here early. It’s a bunch of guys with NO LIVES, so they meet for breakfast at 7:30 am on Saturday, and then slowly make their way here. The driver goes out around 8:30 and returns around 10:00. Then they all hang out here doing absolutely nothing until 1:00 pm.

Second, BORING!

So, when I have to come in I hook up with a sales rep that, like me, wants to get shit done and get out of here. So I arrive at 5:00 am. Yup, I sleep an extra hour on Saturday’s. I arrive, pull orders in a negative 5 degree freezer, load the delivery truck, drink a cup of coffee and relax. At about 6:00 am my sales rep / driver arrives and off he goes to deliver. He is usually back before 8:00 am. He then goes home. I wait for the rest of the boring sad sacks to arrive. They panic because nothing is done, but I explain that it is all done and I am going home.

They are pissed because now they have fewer reasons to hang out here all day.

Honestly, there is no reason for me to be scheduled to work. But if I am, I’m going to get it done and haul ass.

Also, it appears that my planned road trip will have to wait. I was told last night that my ex is having a bunch of her girlfriends over for the pool, and that they want me to cook. Now usually when it’s just her friends I leave. They all blame me for our breakup and it’s a bit tense. But they all LOVE my ribs, briskets, and smoked chickens. So they politely asked if I would hang around, cook, and be basically the cabana boy all day.

I hate being cabana boy, but I LOVE to smoke foods. So I will hang around for that. I would have loved to see my alma mater play their first home game, but they have more and I will make a more convenient game on another date.

Ok ladies, this time instead of gracing you with VALUABLE information I have a pertinent question for you.

How long would you “hang around” someone if you liked them, you think they sort of like you, but they seldom show it? A week? A month? 6 months? A year?

Feel free to chime in with your responses.

AND . . . .

I need more readers. Tell your friends, or tell me if this shit is too boring. I can write about anything. You want sex stories . . . . I can do it. Whatever you want. This page is to entertain my friends. I actually get more feedback from random readers than people I know . . . .

So STEP UP . . . . . Please?

Ok, I have a fantasy I need to write down. Have a good remainder of your weekend.

Luv ya’ll!

My Journal 177

Even though I am facing another Saturday at work I figure most of you aren’t . . . so TGIF!!!!

No shout outs today. Instead I give you your individual report cards. I have this prepaid phone. I can go to the internet and see my texting activity. It sorts my messages by phone numbers. And it tracks the time between messages. So here is July and August averages.

[Ok, maybe I am a little anal]

Martel – I received a text from you on average every 2.32 hours.

Banana rama – I receive a text from you on average every 4.43 hours.

Lovelygirl – I receive a text from you on average every 5.67 hours.

HMPOA – I receive a text from you on average every 9.37 hours.

Sunshine – I receive a text from you on average every 57.98 hours.

I think I will arrange an annual award for the best performance, and a booby prize (No, not that) for the worst performance.

[Hello Sunshine . . . . are you listening?]

Today I will share my squirrel story with you. As most of you know, I took a beating Friday night. Yup, I was in another one of my crazy moods. So Saturday night my brother didn’t let me help him. He said it’s tough to claim you can protect someone when your face looks like a punching bag.

[Pissed away $200 with that one]

I stayed at the house, drank a few Bourbon and cokes, and hung with the three dogs. My feet were propped up on the coffee table, I was in my boxers, and I was watching a good college football game. I was in some pain, but my world was cool!

About 8 o’clock the new puppy was having a fit and barking outside. I was on my fifth drink so I figured, “screw the pup”. But about 30 minutes later that same pup was having the same fit, only somewhere in the house now. I also noticed that her bark was muffled. So I had to get up and go check on her.

I entered the kitchen hollering to be quiet at the pup. That was when I saw her . . . . with a live squirrel in her mouth.

Of course my yelling frightened her enough to make her release the squirrel. The squirrel hits the floor running and off it goes through the house. Now the squirrel is running through the house screaming like a pig while the pup and I are racing around trying to corner it. But I am trying to beat the pup to the squirrel because I figure the pup would now kill her new toy, like she does all her toys.

At the same time, my dog and the idiot dog are scared shitless and running away. Since they are running from the squirrel, the squirrel follows them. Those two dogs are crying while trying to get away. It was like a cartoon or something. I mean imagine me while remembering I had the crap beat out of me the night before. My eye is swollen shut, my hands are swollen, my ribs hurt, and I am sprinting around the house chasing a damn squirrel while three dogs are running around crying and pissing in fear.

[Every try to corner a frightened squirrel?]

This crap goes on for 45 minutes, no shit! Finally the squirrel races past me and I snatch it by the tail. As I am lifting this squirrel up, I immediately realize just how stupid my action was. This squirrel could easily swoop around and bite or scratch the hell out of my arm. But I wasn’t about to drop the damn thing again.

Fortunately, the pup wanted her squirrel. So she kept jumping up trying to bite it. The squirrel was so focused on the pup that it didn’t pay any attention to me. Maybe it thought I was saving it’s life or something. I don’t know, but it never bit me.

I made it to the back fence and dropped the squirrel over. I have no idea if it survived the fall. Hell, maybe it had a frickin’ heart attack. I didn’t care because it was gone and now I could go back to being a “beat up” bum getting drunk on the couch.

Have a FANTASTIC weekend! Just remember to think about me once . . . . maybe twice?

Oh, and more topless pictures would be nice too!

Luv Ya!

My Journal 176

I was talking about dreams last night, so I wanted to share my unique situation. I may have discussed this before, but what the heck . . . I can’t remember.

I sleep for very short intervals, usually about two hours at a time. I do this about three to four times a day. I guess because I never sleep for very long I seldom reach the “dream state”. So I don’t have many dreams. It could be that I do dream and simply don’t have any recollection. But for whatever the reason, I only have about a dozen dreams in my life that I can recall.

Most of the dreams that I can recall are nightmares about my past adventures. When I returned from that life was when I stopped sleeping. I truly have no interest in those nightmares, and staying awake helps. But what I find very interesting is that one person has appeared three times in my dreams. That is three dreams out of about a dozen I can remember since the early eighties. That is a huge average.

That person is Sunshine. She is also the person whose voice I heard back in 1979 that gave me the push to fight to live and not just give up on life. She hadn’t even been born then, yet her voice came to me and urged me not to give up. She has also popped up a few times since then, when I was facing a situation, and she was able to talk me though it while probably not even knowing she was doing something great for me at the time. She is also the only person I can’t be myself around, and I don’t know why.

This is why I believe I have some mystical connection to her. This connection has faded in the past year. I assume this to mean that she came into my life for a purpose, and now that the purpose is fulfilled she will move away. That is sad because I hoped she could be a part of my future as well.

But I digress . . . .

I’ve always wondered about dreams and what they are like for someone else. Of course I can’t crawl into someone’s head and see their dreams at night. But I have read that dreaming is an important attribute for normal sanity. Perhaps this is why I do such bizarre stuff sometimes. Or maybe I’m just nuts and the dreams have nothing to do with it at all.

I listened to people discuss dreams, and they always seem so beautiful and relaxing. I would like to have one of those someday. It would be nice to lie down around 10:00 pm and sleep soundly until the next morning while waking to a beautiful and relaxing memory of a dream. But all I get is death and horror. I have had incredible dreams about Sunshine as I mentioned. And as good as those dream were, it’s just not worth the risk.

Anyway, I prefer reality to dreams. And with my vivid imagination I do still have my fantasies to “tide me over”.