Evel Knievel's Dead

12/02/07O

Evel Knievel’s dead, and I’m not feelin' too good myself. Well folks, to quote a George Bedard lyric, “Where have I been all my life?” Speaking of George, last Thursday he called to say the Firefly Club had a cancellation on Saturday, and asked if I was able to do the gig. This was shortly after a nurse had called to inform me my white blood cell counts were alarmingly low. This news, combined with the neuropathy (shot nerves), which is now such that tasks requiring fine motor skills are a challenge, left me little choice but to say no. The tasks I speak of would include operating zippers, tying shoelaces, buttoning shirts and pants, and starting the car. You will recall that when turning the key in the ignition there is a slight resistance. This makes it such that sometimes two hands are required to fire up the sled. Regarding the blood count stuff, one of the medicines they were considering giving me, Neulasta (which I’ve received before), was on a pharmaceutical price list I got. Cost: $5,966.00 per injection.

I also had to turn down tickets for the UM hockey game on Saturday night. Big crowds are to be avoided. If some of this sounds grim or glum, no worries. I happen to feel much better, especially knowing that this Tuesday, for the first time in six months, I won’t have to get the toxic infusion treatment. This means, regardless of cancer, I can continue to recover from the chemo assault. I’m listening to Dylan’s Time Out of Mind (“Tryin' to get to Heaven”). This disc was produced by Daniel Lanois, and happens to be one of my modern Dylan faves, although I have to say Love and Theft, and Modern Times have grown on me. Mentioning Dylan also gives me a chance to send out deep thanks to my dear friend, J. Kent Bourland, who gave me a beautiful hard bound copy of Dylan: 1962/2001 Lyrics. Thank you. Kent is truly a Dylan fanatic. Thank you, Kent. Julia, hi, and thanks for reading the blog. You asked about Brigitte’s helpfulness. She has been indispensable in helping me through this time -- steady, loving, caring. She is “the American Dream.”

A frustrating reality of wanting to describe the low moments is that you/one/I have no energy to record the feelings. Now, here I sit, trying to re-present pain, or, un-well-ness. It sucks. A wise sushi bar waitress once said, "Don’t cry!"

Had a cat scan
Had a cat scan
Had a cat scan, last night….
Last night….

Actually it was last Friday. Here’s how Bill Behnke would describe the taste of the frosty treat they provide, "Bari-yummy!"

So what if you can use the “Yellow Rose of Texas” as a guide to reciting Emily Dickinson? I still like her. He kindly stopped for me, indeed!

It’s a foggy winter’s day, Trainee T.. Just turned on the telly, where Lions are dueling with Vikings. Up. Down. Blah. Blah. Walk, talk, sit, ponder. Okay. Just watched a 104 yard Minny kickoff return. Last Thursday night, it was the gunslinger rather than the game manager who showed up in Dallas. The Pack needed some of that Twilight Zone, Doug McClure duel-at-Diablo juice. So the Pope’s put out a new encyclical. In it he rails against Godlessness. Sounds like Osama. The Pope and Osama need to sit down together and watch Angelina Jolie in “Beowolf.”

Papa’s got a brand new bag.

According to the Pontiff, “To protest against God in the name of injustice is not helpful.” Why? Because “only God can create justice.” The Holy Father goes on to say that, “faith is what gives us the certainty” that God is infallible in dispensing this justice.

The Pope writes, “A world without God is a world without hope.” What are those with no hope, but a belief in God, to do? If I, in my faith in God and justice, can’t reduce their plight to a case of Marxist manna chewing, how do I square my Christian ethic with their humanitarian neglect? In their world of chaos and want, violence and death, they should keep their faith in a belief that God will create justice. Sounds like catch 22.

For the Pope, the evil twin of Marxism, from an ideological perspective, is the Enlightenment. Why? Because the Age of Reason ushered in a world of modern skepticism.
But even the skeptic can be a believer. I mean “trans-substantiation” is a fine example of a euphemism for ritualistic Christian belief; it allows us to see communion as, at once, literal and symbolic. But the Christian sensibility is lacking when it comes to a rhetoric of justice. Matthew’s gospel of the workers in the vineyard, and Christ’s idea of rendering to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's, are woefully inadequate to the problems in the world today. What words can we come up with for not helping the desperate poor?

Dear Trainee:

So you saw an owl, maybe it was I. I do remember one night when I was feeling a bit owlish. You mentioned that time passes, sometimes quickly, and sometimes slowly, but it passes. Boot camps and other times of hardship make this inevitable fact unavoidable. One of the conclusions I’ve reached is that even though we’re hard-wired to think of misfortune as something that always falls on someone else, it’s not really true. That wiring becomes a bit frayed when it’s not someone else, but you. You mention the idea of “living elsewhere,” of “escaping the bad surroundings where bad happened.” One of the tragic stories in the news lately concerns the 24 year-old professional football player, Sean Taylor, who was shot to death in Miami. He had come from a tough background and circumstances, but he had turned his life around. His friends had told him to move north, forget about Miami. Here is an excerpt from Michael Wilbon’s column in today’s The Washington Post:

“The issue of separating yourself from a harmful environment is a recurring theme in the life of black men. It has nothing to do with football, or Sean Taylor or even sports. To frame it as a sports issue, is as insulting as it is naïve. Most of us, perhaps even the great majority of us who grew up in big urban communities, have to make a decision at some point to hang out or get out.
“The kid who becomes a pharmaceutical rep has the same call to make as the lawyer or delivery guy or accountant or sportswriter or football player: Cut off anybody who might do harm, even those who have been friends from the sandbox, or go along to get along.

“Mainstream folks—and, yes, this is a code word for white folks—see high-profile athletes dealing with this dilemma and think it’s specific to them, while black folks know it’s everyday stuff for everybody, for KIDS WITH ASPIRATIONS OF ALL KINDS. Some do, some don’t. Some will, some won’t. Some can, some cannot. Often it’s gut-wrenching. Usually it’s NECESSARY. For some, it takes a little bit too long.”

I thought his article was especially important after reading your thoughts about “fresh starts” and leading a “healthier and better” life. I know this sounds weird, but right now you are really doing great. You are appreciating what, family, freedom, and health really mean.