Reminiscing: My first step towards the path

In the Spring of 2012 I took my first class at the Kadampa Buddhist Center. I had been putting it off for nearly year. Periodically, I would check out their website, look at the class schedule, and find some reason for not attending a class or a Sunday morning teaching. Honestly, I was more than a little intimidated. I have never really been a joiner and I was concerned that upon visiting the center, I would be surrounded by fervent, empty eyed believers, like Scientologists or Amway salesmen.

When I finally communicated with someone at the center, they recommended I start with the Meditation 101 class, which is non-denominational. This class teaches basic meditation skills and would be of benefit should I decide to continue studying Buddhism.

Kadampa Center Stupa

I remember my first impressions of the center. Except for the stupa, the building is somewhat nondescript. The people in the lobby were warm and welcoming when I walked through the door. There seemed to be quite a few newbies attending the class, which was conducted in the Gompa (the place of quiet learning). There were pews in the back of the room, chairs down the sides, and cushions in the middle of the room - all facing the altar. Having been raised as a Methodist, I found the vibrant colors on the altar, in the tangkas (paintings), and prayer flags to be somewhat shocking.

But, when in Rome....

Lhamo

I took my place on a cushion. When our teacher, Lhamo, entered I was at first unable to stop staring at her shaved head, but that only lasted a few minutes. Her calm demeanor, thoughtful answers, and good humor soon won me over. Since that first class, I have spent time on the cushion nearly every morning to start my day as well as some evenings to end the day.

Nearly two years later, the vibrant colors are now soothing, the people continue to be happy and friendly, the teachers are inspiring, and while I am a long way from enlightenment, I just may be a slightly better person than I was - which is really the goal.

From the Lists: #17 The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter (1940) 

Carson McCullers

A small mill town in the South is a lonely place for those dangling on the fringes of polite 1930s society. A café owner, a labor organizer, an African-American doctor, and a teenage girl growing up in a boarding house make an unlikely cast of characters. The narrative thread holding this book and these characters together is a lonely, deaf-mute man named John Singer.

Each of these characters has secret dreams and ambitions they only share with Singer. The café owner is really an interior decorator at heart, the labor organizer longs for knowledge, the doctor struggles to organize his people to fight against racism, and the girl dreams of playing music in great concert halls. Sadly their fear of sharing their dreams and their ingrained distrust prevent them from realizing the person who they think is their enemy would actually be their best ally or perfect partner.

A major theme of this book, like Invisible Man, is projection. Since Singer is unable to communicate,

he becomes all things to all people. He is the sounding board, confessor, counselor, lover, and friend to all who know him. He is everything and nothing; a projection or creation of the mind to fill the needs of each character. While these characters consider Singer as their only friend, they are completely unaware of his deep longing for the return of his only friend – someone they have never met.

Carson McCullers: Saucy Minx

Like most of the novels in the 100 best English novels ofthe 20th century, there are no happy endings in this story. The characters do not rise above their circumstances. I am not sure they even learn from what they experience in the time period the book covers. It’s really a “things happen, some people are upset about these things, others don’t even notice, and in the end life goes on” kind of book.

Despite this, I really enjoyed this book – even though there is no real crisis to overcome, no crescendo of emotion, and no just rewards meted out for bad behavior. These are simply well-crafted characters who are only trying to get through the difficulties of life, fighting or succumbing to their circumstances and carrying on as best they can. And, while nothing seems to really happen, I found that I couldn’t put this book down once I started reading it. 

 And - like Slaughterhouse Five, there was a movie. Adding it to the Netflix queue now. 

Next up An American Tragedy.

From the Lists: #18 Slaugherhouse Five

Usually when reading a book from the 100 Best Novels of the 20th Century I can easily relate the story to something in my life. My job, family, friends, relationships, or faith often come to mind as I experience a work of literature. For me, this makes the narrative more human - something I can relate to and color through my own experiences. 

Then along comes something so freaky deaky that all I can do is scratch my head and wonder what is this author trying to accomplish? Slaughterhouse Five, or The Children's Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death (1969) by Kurt Vonnegut is one such novel. This semi-autobiographical work is told in non-linear fashion from the perspective of an unreliable, if not completely insane, character. Slaughter House Five circuitously relates the life and misfortunes of an unwilling soldier, Billy Pilgrim, who "does nothing to help himself." Obviously this novel is a satirical, anti-war response to WWII novels and memoirs released in the 1950's that meditated on the horrors of war and rejoiced in the heroic actions of our fighting boys.

That's the easy part to understand. Adding to the confusion, the novel jumps both forward and

Kurt Vonnegut

backward in time and space and planets. Pilgrim's story unfolds in a collection of seemingly unrelated vignettes recalling the highlights and traumas of his life. A life in which Pilgrim finds himself caught up in circumstances that he cannot fully understand or process at the time of their telling. Pilgrim's story describes his current struggles, his life before and during the war, his recovery from a mental breakdown, his life as a father, husband and business man, and his time spent as an exhibit in an alien zoo. There is no order. There is only the chaos of an unruly mind in its final days.

{Spoiler Alert - Stop here if you don't want to know the final plot twist}

This method of story telling is somewhat confusing, but as the story unfolds, Vonnegut slowly reveals the truth about Pilgim's world view and the source of the narrative's strange turns. Having experienced two mental breakdowns and now suffering from dementia Pilgrim now conflates his life experiences with the plots of pulp science fiction novels he read under the influence of drugs during his recovery from his first breakdown. In a way, his life as he now remembers it is like an unrelenting season of the Twilight Zone - full of ironic and unexpected endings and death - lots of death.

{End of Spoiler text}

Although it may not seem like it from the above, I actually quite liked this novel. Vonnegut's writing is clear and concise. Billy Pilgrim, while a buffoon, is ultimately a likeable and sympathetic character. And, even better, the reveal makes you rethink the entire novel.

If my life was to be composed of classic novels, which titles would I choose?

Life continues despite the death that awaits us.

Must add to the Netflix Queue

From the Lists: #19 Invisible Man

"Number 19? What happened to #20?" you may ask.

I read #20 Native Son (1940) by Richard Wright while in college. In researching this post, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Wright and Ralph Ellison were friends and were writing in Harlem in the years leading up to and following WWII. Both were disillusioned by the treatment of African-Americans by not only the US government and society at large, but also by socialist groups attempting to organize in the 1950s.

Where Native Son relates the inevitability of Bigger Thomas' crimes due to the hopelessness of his environment, Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man (1952) tells a story of optimism and the slow onset of disillusionment. Ellison creates a first-person narrator who remains nameless throughout the novel. He could be anyone - including you or me. Our narrator is a pleasant, hopeful, intelligent, kind character with a gift for oration. He is the type of character a reader pulls for hoping he will rise above adversity, get the girl after a few setbacks and live happily ever after. But, as with all great literature, there is no happy ending for our invisible man.

Ralph Ellison

While our narrator does all he can to follow the rules thinking that is the only way to get ahead for a poor, Southern African-American boy, he finds himself again and again being cast as the fall guy in other peoples' agendas. Despite doing his best to get along without making waves, our invisible man is blamed, rejected, black-listed, shunned, and used by those he believes are his friends and mentors. Eventually, rather than pulling for the narrator, the reader is exhorting him to run and trust no one - particularly those who seem to want to help.

Upon finishing this novel, I was torn in my feelings. I greatly enjoyed the author's writing style and the narrator was a likable, if gullible, character. It was the "bad" guys who really bothered me the most. Not because of their inherent badness, but more due to their indifference. To them, the narrator is only a means to an end, a convenient scapegoat, a whipping boy, an excuse, or a pawn in a greater plan.

When I consider this, I think of the many people who, like the narrator, find themselves embroiled in the machinations of those with power over their lives. Groups of people who continue to be viewed as less than equal - women, immigrants, gays & lesbians, the homeless, the poor, the uninsured, the unemployed - the list goes on and on. Even worse, I think we have all been the invisible man and the bad guy. How many times have we crawled over the backs of others to get ahead in our competitive society? Made ourselves look better by making someone else look bad? How often do we pretend not to see or hear something or someone who makes us feel uncomfortable? How many times have we dismissively responded to a homeless person that we have no money to spare when we actually do?


I admit, I have been both invisible and incapable of seeing. 

"I am an invisible man.... I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids - and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me."

From the Lists: #21 Henderson the Rain King

Henderson the Rain King (1959) by Saul Bellow is a bit of a conundrum to me. I had never heard of this book, even though it is ranked #21 on the 100 Best English Novels of the 20th Century so I was able to approach it without any expectations. And yet, when I completed it, I was left scratching my head. Is the book intended to be a late-in-life coming of age novel, a farce, a parable, a fever dream, a satyric retelling of Lawrence of Arabia, a Buddhist teaching?  Maybe yes to some and maybe no to all.

As if my head scratching were not enough, I stumbled across this piece of Wikipedia information when researching this post: "A week before the novel appeared in book stores, Saul Bellow published an article in the New York Times entitled “The Search for Symbols, a Writer Warns, Misses All the Fun and Fact of the Story.” Here, Bellow warns readers against looking too deeply for symbols in literature. This has led to much discussion among critics as to why Bellow warned his readers against searching for symbolism just before the symbol-packed Rain King hit the shelves."

Saul Bellow

If we simply focus on the "fun and facts," this book is about a patently unlikable man named Henderson, who through bad luck and circumstances inherits a great fortune and estate, which he immediately turns into a pig farm. A few unhappy marriages later, he is off to Africa for a series of bumbling adventures motivated by colonial paternalism for the poor, helpless natives. Along the way he meets an African tribal chief whose views of the world are possibly even more delusional than Henderson's proving that a little bit of information can be more detrimental than complete ignorance. And, as you probably guessed, mayhem ensues and Henderson returns home with a new outlook on life.

It all seems pretty straightforward, except the story is unreliably narrated by Henderson who seems motivated by an internal mantra of "I want, I want, I want." Based on his actions  it seems he only wants to be provocative, shocking, contrary, oafish, impractical, heroic and a doctor despite his disdain for reading and study. I see a bit of Buddhist philosophy in the narrative, but I see that everywhere these days. Our "hero" is constantly seeking something outside of himself that will make him happy. No matter his circumstances, he continues making bad decisions resulting in even more unhappiness. Since he is unable to recognize that his actions are the cause of his unhappiness, he traps himself in an endless circle of bad outcomes and unsatisfied desires (live, die, repeat).

It is likely we all know someone like this. I am guilty of making terrible decisions that I think will bring happiness only to realize later that I have not found happiness. The lesson must be that we learn to recognize when we are writing the same unhappy life story. Upon recognition, we must learn to use the wisdom gained in this life to make the right decision for not only ourselves, but for those whose lives will be affected.

While I am unsure of the significance of this novel and why it was given such a high ranking, it was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in 1960. It did not win the prize that year, but someone recognized a brilliance that eludes me.


Next up: #19 Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

From the Lists: #22 Appointment in Samarrra

It's all fun and games until someone gets hit in the face with a cocktail.

Appointment in Samarra (1934) by John O'Hara is another one of those prohibition-era novels in which liquor flows as if there were no restrictions on its sale. It seems that if you knew the right person and had enough money, obtaining a case of your favorite holiday spirit was as simple as picking up the phone and calling your local gangster.

In a nutshell this novel is about the dissolution of Julian and Caroline English's marriage over the course of a few days. Julian and his wife are among the social elite of their small community - or they were until a drunken Julian throws his drink in the face of the town's richest man. Had it not occurred during the country club's annual Christmas party, in front of their mutual friends, Julian may have been able to apologize the next day and moved on with his life; however, that would not make for a very interesting novel. Instead, Julian and Caroline's relationship descends into arguments, blatant infidelity, and liquor fueled arguments culminating in Julian's suicide three days later. (Sorry for the spoiler, but the book's first page pretty much gives is away.)

Hemingway, Sherman Billingsley, and John O'Hara

Although I had never heard of this novel, once I started reading it, I could not put it down. The writing is among the best examples of straightforward modernist literature of the time, not surprising considering the author's chummy relationship with some of the period's heavy-hitters. Even though O'Hara does not pull any punches, his writing does not get in the way of the story. He effortlessly moves between characters and settings as if they are from his own memories. The world he creates is completely believable, which makes Julian's breakdown all the more painful. While reading this novel, I often felt as if I was watching one of those reality shows where you know a person is headed for big trouble, but you are powerless to help them or to turn away from the screen (such as the Anna Nicole Show).

Despite the brilliant writing and story telling, Appointment in Samarra was not well received when it was first published. It seems the critics got so distracted by married men and women having sex with each other - and enjoying it, that they missed all the other goodies. Of course, the entire first chapter describes a middle class couple enjoying conjugal pleasures. And, if that was not bad enough, they are doing it on CHRISTMAS MORNING!!!!!  Apparently organized crime, indiscriminate drinking, lesbianism, shrewish wives and the infidelities of the main character paled in comparison to this act of sacrilege. As a result Appointment was originally dismissed as low-brow smut. Happily for me and other readers, O'Hara's work survived the witheringly prudish attacks of 1934 critics. In the critics' defense, it is somewhat surprising at how blatantly / casually O'Hara addresses sexuality and relationships.

Recommendation: Not a happily-ever-after novel, not a vampire or zombie in sight, but could be a great summer read.

Next up: #21 Henderson the Rain King

Back to the Lists: #23 The USA Trilogy

John Dos Passos

The USA Trilogy(1930 - 1936) by John Dos Passos is often referred to as the American version of Ulysses.  Having read both, I can now say with conviction that Passos is much easier to read than Joyce, although at times I was challenged by his narrative choices.

The 42nd Parallel (1930), 1919 (1932), and The Big Money (1936) follow several characters through the years leading up to and including World War I as well as the boom years that followed. The final volume ends in 1930. As with many of the modernist books written during this period, Passos experiments with narrative and time. Each chapter is dedicated to a single character and how they experience these years.

Passos introduces each character with a lengthy personal history providing all the facts the reader needs to understand or recognize each character type. The cast of characters includes labor agitators, socialists, politicians, business men, socialites, a handsome man who twice marries well, journalists, artists, a preacher's daughter, a Texas heiress, a mechanic turned aviator, and an aspiring starlet. Each brings their own cast of characters. And, as time passes, they each pass through each others' spheres - some briefly and others intimately.

Between each rather long chapter, Passos inserts brief chapters entitled the "Camera's Eye" and "Newsreel." The first consists of short stream-of-consciousness passages lacking a defined narrator, punctuation, or immediate relationship to the previous chapter. Instead these passages serve as personal snapshots of the time - much like memories of a distant past. The second of these inserts consists of seemingly random lists of actual headlines and lyrics from popular songs of the time. However,  when compared to the characters' stories, these snippets help to more clearly define actual public sentiment compared to the characters' beliefs. Some of these "Newsreels" are rather humorous while others are tragic - particularly when viewed from the perspective of hindsight.

The narrative style within the USA Trilogy is quite easy to read. The writing is sparse and elegant, but once a character is introduced, you may not see them again for hundreds of pages. For me, this made it a a little difficult to keep everyone sorted. Other than that, I think the book does an excellent job of capturing its time.

I was most interested by the parallels of that time to our own Great Recession. In this work, Passos theorizes that the easy money of the 1920s was one of the direct causes of that historical stock market crash. Passos describes people who were feverishly borrowing money to invest, but once the investments went south and the loans were due, everyone paid the price of greed - whether they were playing the market or not.

Of even more interest, during the years between WWI and the Great Depression, there was a bit of a domestic war brewing between the "Makers and Takers" - except back then the workers were the makers and the bosses, financiers, and bankers who benefited from the labor of others were the takers. It is a bit of revisionism that allows this same argument to adopted and reversed during our recent hard times where the wealthy indignantly assumed the label of makers while labeling workers (and the unemployed) as takers.


Rating: 4 out of 5 bootlegged bottles of whiskey.

And, unless I am misreading the list, this is the last multiple volume entry among the remaining books. From here on out, it will be smooth sailing.

Next up: #22 Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara

Colonoscopy: The Live Blog

Colonoscope

There are several rights of passage that we all experience as we move into middle age. For men, that often entails professionals wanting to stick things into your butt. At 48 I received my first professional prostate exam. And, after a valiant campaign of procrastination, at 51 I am officially scheduled to have a colonoscopy bright and early Monday morning.

Everyone who is acquainted with me or has read my blog knows that I have a particular penchant for talking about poop - as do my siblings. There is something odd about that, but delving into the reasons for this fascination are perhaps better suited for another blog post.  While it is easy to joke about things that happen in that area of the body, with my family history of colon cancer, this is not a procedure that I can ignore or put off.

Preparation for the procedure begins five days prior to the appointment. At that time you must avoid all nuts and sesame seeds and stop taking iron supplements. The next milestone is swearing off all solid foods at midnight, two nights before the procedure. After that, it's only clear broths, Jello, and Popsicle - but not the red or purple ones.

As I write this, I think longingly of the hefty portions of chicken simmered in a champagne cream sauce with fettuccine and vegetables, as well as the slab of chocolate pie that Chad placed in front of me last night. For that, I cannot thank him enough. It was a veritable feast in preparation of the fast to come.

Yummy broth, pills, and stuff I am supposed to drink

Prep Day:
Sunday 7:30 AM
Today's menu includes clear liquids as long as they are not red or purple.
Started the day with coffee and apple juice.
Off to Sunday teaching at the Kadampa Center.
I notice my allergies are particularly bothersome today, despite the Zyrtec I took last night before bed.

10:00 AM
After teaching I chatted with Scott about volunteering for the lawn care team at the center.
Stopped by Harris Teeter for some wet wipes - a necessary preventive care need.

10:30 - Noon
Coffee
Wrote and posted an entry about my recent oral surgery experience
Chatted with Dad on the phone - twice
More coffee - it's working
Sort of hungry.

Noon -14:00
Another cup of coffee
Really hungry
Take two Dulcalax (laxative pills)
Chase them with low sodium chicken broth - wonder how I track that in the sodium tracker?
I should have gotten some vegetable broth to balance out my lunch.

14:40
Broth just makes me hungrier. Starting to have a bit of a headache.
Must think of something else.
Is it my imagination or do I have to go to the bathroom?
Time for more chicken broth. This time I added a bit of curry I bought in Grenada for a little extra flavor.
Stomach is rumbling. Hunger? Or the beginning....
It just occurred to me that my last post was about my mouth. This post is about the other end of the alimentary canal - the "South Mouth."
Coincidentally, I am going to the same doctor who stretched out my esophagus a few years ago.
I was thinking that someone needs to write a song about this. After a quick Google search, it appears several already have. Here's one by "Butt Midler." One would think they would be better given the subject matter.

15:26
Did you know a single, one-cup serving of low sodium chicken broth contains 24% of your daily recommended sodium. I just passed 100% of my daily recommended allowance and I am still hungry.
Bathroom reading station has been prepared with two magazines, NOOK eReader, and wipes.

I think it will be necessary to break the "No television on Sunday rule." I need to be entertained.

15:54
It's really the anticipation - and the hunger.
I'm feeling really self-aware.

16:30
Anti-nausea pill

17:00
Drink the drink.
It tastes like salty cherry medicine. Pretty awful actually.
Now I know why I needed the anti-vomit pill.
The question is whether to chug it or sip it?
Regardless, once this is down, I will have one hour to drink another liter of water. Of course, it will take at least a liter of water to get this taste out of my mouth.

Wipes, Nook, magazines lined up

18:07
It's working.

18:17
Hmmmm - that was weirdly satisfying, but I am afraid to get too far from the toilet.
Wet wipes are awesomely wonderful.
Oddly I am not as hungry as I was.

17:05
Dinner Time - Beef broth, mmmm good!

17:27
One cup in, one cup out.

20:05
Blowing nose - bad idea. Enough said.
Beef broth is a lot better with a dash of Tabasco and another dash of Worcestershire sauce.

20:30
Repeat.

21:41
I am concerned that my intestinal flora and fauna will never recover. Surely nothing can survive a power washing such as this.
All commercials are about food. Current craving is BK Big Fish with extra tartar sauce.
Each time I change position, i.e. roll over, sit up, stand - the need to visit the toilet becomes urgent.

23:00
One last mug of beef broth before bed.
Perhaps the Tabasco was not such a great idea. It's a little tender down there.

23:45
Bedtime
You know you are clean when you poop clear water.
I am porn star clean.

Monday 17:13
Besides the procedure getting started a little late, all went well. The staff and doctor were quite nice. As I was going under, I heard the doctor turn up the music; I was being scoped to Led Zepplin's Ramble On. I found that amusing.

As usual, I woke up from anesthesia a little early, so I got to see the length of my colon as the scope was pulled out. I can personally vouch for the effectiveness of the cleaning routine. I said something to the effect of "That is one fine looking colon." The doctor agreed and reported there were no abnormalities or polyps.  After some world record setting flatulence, I was allowed to go home. First stop, breakfast at Big Ed's with Dad.

Joking aside, the preparation was not as bad as the horror stories I heard all last week. The procedure itself was painless. Afterwards, once you pass the gas they pump you up with, there was no residual pain. The best part? As a parting gift, I was presented with a beautiful picture of my sexy colon.

Picture from deep inside yours truly.

Due to the clean bill of health, it will be another 10 years before I have an opportunity to blog about this again. Who knows what can happen in that time?





 





 

2 Girls, 1 Mouth: The Sequel

Instruments of exquisite torture

To be completely truthful, this post should be entitled Two Hygienists, Two Nurses, a Dentist, a Surgeon, and One Dirty Mouth: The Sequel.


About a month prior to my fantastic Caribbean vacation, I visited my wonderful dentist for a regularly scheduled cleaning and exam. During the exam, my most excellent hygienist, Andrea, examined a spot on my gum that I pointed out to her as feeling like a blister. Sure enough, I had a dental abscess.

The abscess was located next to a couple of teeth Dr. Arrick had previously suggested I have removed, but in my wisdom, I had decided to keep them in place for as long as possible. Based on both the hygienist's and dentist's assessment, "as long as possible" had finally arrived. There was an open slot in Dr. Arrick's schedule, so I just moved down the hall into the "extraction suite" and took a seat in preparation for the procedure.

As Dr. Arrick came at me with a syringe full of pain killer, I reminded her that I am hard to numb. If she is going in, she needs to go in hard and deep. She will know she got it in deep enough when a single tear runs down my cheek. She laughed and said, "Oh Glenn, you are so funny." My dentist has  a dirty mind, apparently, but there was no tear.

Insert joke here

After a few minutes to let the medicine work, she came back to perform the extraction. She did a little magic around the gums and then went in with the pliers and started tugging. The medicine was not working. The pain was pretty intense. After three more attempts at numbing my jaw, I was sent home with a prescription for an antibiotic to clear up the infection and an appointment to return in 10 days.

Ten days later, it was exactly the same experience (see above). Since she could not get me numb enough to complete the extraction, Dr. Arrick suggested I see an oral surgeon. The surgeon could see me in a few days, but that would be only a day or two before I departed for vacation and I thought that was a bad idea. Besides, it was apparent these two teeth were determined to accompany me to Barbados.

Flash forward three weeks.....
Four days after returning from a most excellent trip, I was tan, happy, and patiently waiting in the Surgeon's reception room. Since is was a same-day surgery center, the wait was a long one. I arrived on time at 8:30, but my procedure did not start until around 11:00. Thank goodness for my most excellent manager, Rachel, who was able to rearrange her schedule in order to wait for me.

When I finally got called back, the nurse began reviewing the procedure with me. We discussed bone grafting just in case I wanted to have dental implants sometime in the future. I asked her what type of material would be used in the grafts. She responded,"irradiated, ground cadaver bone." I was slightly horrified, but that did not stop me from responding with "Well, I guess this will be the first time someone else's bone has been in my mouth for a reason other than fun." She was not amused.

Let's talk about my book.

When it was finally time to begin, two nurses came in to wire me up and insert the IV that would send me off to dreamland. I was warned that I would feel a little drunk, which was not problem considering "a little drunk" is one of my preferred feelings. When the drip started so did my mouth. I was talking and talking and talking some more. I started explaining the plot of the novel I am considering and asking all types of questions about the decline of taste as you age. After a few minutes of me blathering on and on, one nurse said to the other, "That doesn't seem to be working. Let's try the other arm." I thought it was working like a charm - especially since I was in a decidedly happier mood than I had been 10 minutes earlier. And suddenly, it was lights out.

Until I woke up - earlier than planned.

When I came to, there was a big plastic ring holding my mouth open. A man, with shiny tools appeared to be sewing something while chatting about his weekend plans. I was just lying there watching and listening when he noticed me, at which time he alerted the nurse that I was awake. Like magic, I was no longer awake.

When I next awoke, all dentistry apparatus had been removed and I was escorted to the lobby where my wonderful manager and friend greeted me with a smile and took me home. I few minutes after I arrive home, my most excellent neighbor, Troy, dropped off my pain medications and other prescriptions required for recovery. Then I went to bed.

A few weeks later, I was telling this story to my dear friends Cathy and Arjay over Videri chocolates and glasses of wine. Cathy asked about the next steps in this grand journey of dental implantation. When I told her I would be having a cat scan in a few months to make sure I was not rejecting the bone grafts, she immediately responded, "That mouth has never rejected a bone."

Touche my friend. Well played!

Vacation 2014: Retrospective

Sailing back to Barbados was as rough as sailing out of it. The showers that created that breathtaking rainbow over St. Lucia caught up with us and put a damper on our final night together. After a last Jack Daniels on the rocks I was off to bed soon after Amy and Freddy's show.

When I awoke Saturday morning, we were docked in Barbados. There would be one last breakfast together and then we would be scattering to the winds. Some people had an early departure. Some were leaving later in the afternoon, others were staying on for another day or two. Regardless, we were all moving away from each other, back to our regular lives, jobs, families, and friends.

As always, Concierge Travel had all the logistics under control. All I had to do was show up at the allotted time, exit through customs, hand my luggage to the bus driver, and follow instructions. Those of us flying out  in the afternoon were dropped off at the Tiki Bar on the beach to hang out for a few hours before heading home.

I spent these hours trying to get online - along with every other person there, and writing in my journal. Twelve hours later I was back home in Raleigh - tired, cold, and tan.

As I write this final vacation post and think back on this week, it really was among the best I have
had. This could have been partly due to the challenge I set for myself as I was flying out of Miami. While watching the innumerable islands, atolls, sandbars, and reefs pass beneath me, I challenged myself to be more adventurous, more open to meeting new people, and to be more willing to just have fun. Simply put, I challenged myself to say yes.

For me, it is always much easier to stand behind others and watch life from the sidelines. Not only is it often safer, but if I don't have a great time, I can always blame someone else. Looking back, I think I actually rose to my own challenge. I met so many new people. Some of the most memorable minutes were spent with people I met for the first time on this trip. Brian's pep talk on our first night in Barbados, discovering James' kindheartedness, exploring Barbados, fully experiencing the joy of first seeing John and Jay at the welcome party, reuniting with old friends, seeing the unimaginably beautiful night sky in the middle of the ocean, riding in the nets with Tom, being reminded by Joe of the importance of keeping up my practice, dancing, dancing, dancing, chatting with Amy, seeing Jay's smiling face every morning, and overhearing John describe our day in Grenada as the best day ever.

And, perhaps I have learned something as well. The joy of living, the importance of friends, and the excitement of discovering the world. All of these things seem to have stuck with me well past my return home. There is no reason why everyday can't be experienced as if it were a great adventure.

My friend, Dan D., once shared his philosophy with me as we were waiting for a flight in the LaGuardia airport. He said, "The universe always says yes. If you say that your life sucks, the universe will respond "Yes, it does." If you say your live is great, the universe will say 'Yes, it is.' " I often think of this conversation. The more I consider it, the more I think he is right.

This was a great vacation.
Today was a wonderful day
Tomorrow is going to be even better.

Yes! 

Vacation 2014: St. Lucia

Best Towel Animal Ever!

I had a super fun time at the White party, which should be renamed "Tighty Whitey" party, but that is another story. At the end of the stumble of shame, I was pleasantly surprised to see that my cabin steward, Diane, had me in mind when she was creating tonight's towel animal. A fitting end to a great day.

Although it was a late night for me, I was still up around 8:00 for coffee and bloody maries with Jay. There is nothing quite like spending your morning chatting with friends over spicy bloody maries and coffee while sailing into the next exotic port. Today's stop is St. Lucia.

Sailing into St. Lucia

St Lucia: Port Entrance

Beautiful blue skies, breezy, warm. Perfect! 

A member of the ship's Water Sports Team (insert joke here)

The only thing I knew about St. Lucia before arriving is that Oprah has a house there and this year's runner up on Top Chef is from here. The approach to the harbor is spectacular. The volcanic peaks at the water's edge are breathtaking. The skies were a perfect shade of blue against the deep tropical green forests. From the water the island and port appear almost magical. We were excited to get on shore.

 Of all the islands we visited on this trip, St. Lucia was perhaps the most "un-touristy." Obviously, the large ships do not dock here, so the port area is not set up with duty free liquor shops or, to be honest, any shops at all. There did not appear to be many ex-pat residents or other tourists in town. Since our group had no leader, we just wandered around like a flock of chickens without a rooster - a flock of very exotic roosters based on the number of people staring at us as we wandered around.

In the center of town there is a church built on the former slave auction grounds. In the middle of the church yard is a memorial to the run away slaves that were executed on these grounds upon their recapture. There were several people from our ship wandering around the grounds taking pictures. Later we heard that some of the locals felt by our taking photos we were not showing proper respect to the memory of those executed here. That made me sad.

Waiting for our beers: Jay and Brad

Having seen the local sites, we found a bar on the harbor and had a local beer to commemorate our visit. Of course we logged into Facebook to update our status. I mean really - how else can we remind our friends at home that we are having a great time in the tropics while they are digging their way out of another snow storm?

We were soon back on the ship. There was packing to do and I wanted to get some information on next year's trips - plus there was still a bit of liquor behind the bar that had not yet been consumed.  LOL.


As part of the sail away party, the crew took the tender out for people to capture pictures of the ship. This was taken by a shipmate and posted in our Facebook group. Looking at this picture, I am once again reminded that I am a lucky guy to be living this life. I would not change a day of it for anything. After all, when I was growing up in a small NC town, I never ever dreamed that one day I would be cruising through the tropics with some of the best people I know on a ship straight out of central fairy tale casting.

There was a festive, yet bittersweet feeling as we watched the sails being raised for for our last sail away. Everything we did that day was a last of one sort or another: Our last bloody maries before breakfast, our last crumbly tater tots, our last new port, our last sail away, sunset, dinner, etc. But these "lasts" make us savor the experience even more.

Lanny

Skipper

Sailing out of St. Lucia

John B.

Chaz, Bruce, and Lanny - Kings(?) of the world

The final scheduled event of the afternoon was a group shot of everyone assembled under the crow's nest. Needless to say, getting all those men together was like herding butterflies, but how else can you get your face on the website? We all signed releases and this was our last chance...

Here we come!

After the photo shoot, someone pointed out that there was a rainbow behind us in the port. Of course there would be rainbow - what else would you expect with this many fabulous men gathered in one spot? However, this rainbow was unlike any I have ever seen. So brilliant you could see every color. And, as we sailed away and the afternoon showers came and went over the island, we were treated to a full double rainbow. It was so beautiful it appeared to be fake. But you can judge for yourself from the pictures.

The first rendition

It only gets better

Can you believe this? It looks like it was Photoshopped.

Upon his arrival home, Jay described this moment much better than I ever could: 
"This past Friday I saw TWO of the most amazing sights that God and Mother Nature can create. The first was that spectacular double full arc rainbow connecting two beautiful lush green mountain peaks rising majestically out of the azure Caribbean Sea on St Lucia. Oh how I wish I could have gotten that whole view in my camera finder, but it will always be in my head. So breathtaking, it's unique and powerful beauty made me cry. Yeah, I've gotten goofy in my old age!

The SECOND awesome sight that God and Mother Nature created? I turned around and saw a jubilant crowd just shy of 200 people with as many descriptive and/or annoying labels as society can throw at them and as exist in the larger population, celebrating a moment, a week, a life together. Old/young, black/white/Latin/Asian, East Coast/West Coast/Midwest, American/Canadian/European, bear/muscle bear/polar bear/twink/gym rat/otter/silver daddy, male/female, single/married/divorced/widowed/still frantically looking, professions ranging from student to judge to military to minister to retired and every religion or lack thereof known to our culture, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and grandfathers, maybe even a great grandfather or two, all unified by one trait that for some reason causes some to fear and hate. We're gay"

Yep, it was the best day ever.

Heading back into rough seas on the way back to Barbados