Sig, life is not an empty chair in an empty room, and we are not tilting wind mills. I know pain darkens our day. But we push back hard, and often, we win. Yesterday, with Grecy and Sam, we drove the 101 south to Hollywood, then down Sunset Boulevard through Beverly Hills, all the way to PCH, where we stopped at Neptune’s Net and ate fried shrimp with our fingers while watching surfers frolic. After, we drove on, back to our little bungalow near the sea and watched silly comedies on TV till our eyes grew heavy. A good day, to be sure. But as with everything in our life, not all beer and skittles. In the night, pain bore down. It is the constant reminder of the twining dance we have lived. A part of us we must embrace, as there is no likely cure. We must seek our peace deep within its folds, even on nights when it feels as though our mattress is made of stone. Not an easy way to live, but, it is worthwhile. Being a husband and father gives it form. Being a writer and painter gives it definition. They carry us away from the edge of darkness. Make us realize time is the most important thing, maybe the only thing, we truly possess. To waste it is a crime. Self pity, a trap. So—we must live within its bounds. Move through our days of love and hate, to lie again on our mattress of stone. Where do we go from here, Sig? Do we let it grind us down to a nub? Or do we listen to the words of the progressive midget who famously said, “Onward and upward.” Maybe those words can carry the day. What do you think, Bro? Might just be that simple.
Till next week,