It has
been a while since I have written a year-in-review and I am ashamed to say,
it’s been nearly as long since I have written much of anything. Yet seeing as
how we’re not only at the dawn of a New Year but also a new decade I figure now
is as good a time as any to hop back into the saddle.
2019
dawned with crushing news. My dear friend Summer Serrano had spent 2018 burying
her 94 year old grandmother and 106 year old Pearl Harbor survivor great uncle
Ray Chavez. On January 3rd I saw a post with Summer’s name on it. I
felt for her and thought to myself “Who did she lose now?!” and when I looked a
little closer, it was a post stating Summer had passed the day before.
I was
having lunch at work when I read the news and though Summer and I were not
blood related, she is one of very few I consider an immediate member of my
Family of 40,000. A terrible loss to say the least. Summer was the very first
person I spoke to on my very first day of sobriety. In the subsequent years,
she was often the first person I sent a new blog piece to, giving her the
opportunity to read my work before anyone else.
During the
week before she passed I was working on a piece talking about my pending 3,000th
day of sobriety. I dearly wanted to tell her about it but like an excited parent
on Christmas Eve, I patiently waited to show her once it was complete. I knew
she would love it.
When I
learned of her passing I considered not publishing the blog piece. After all,
how could I make a baseball reference regarding my life during such a tragic
time? Then I thought of what Summer would have said had she known I was
considering not continuing with the piece and I opened the laptop right back up
and finished it as a tribute to her.
Imagine
the honor I felt when just days later I was contacted by Summer’s mom Delia and
asked if I would assist in writing her obituary as well as her eulogy.
She didn’t
have to asked me twice. Those of you who write as if it is your calling know
what it’s like when you merely feel like a channel, an instrument of knowledge
or healing guided by something much bigger than yourself. That’s how I felt
when I wrote for Summer. Once I met with Delia to discuss the writing I slowly
became something of an advisor in matters beyond the two pieces, I met with her
every Sunday for the entire month and helped plan what turned out to be the
largest gathering of San Diego Padres fans in Mission Valley since 2003.
Those of
you who were there need no explanation and it’s no use trying to explain it to
those who weren’t there. But I will say there were well over a hundred people
who couldn’t find a seat, among them several members of the 1998 National
League Championship team.
The midway
point of the year began with great promise, as I started a new job; took the
family on a surprise trip to Knott’s Berry Farm and celebrated a surprise 92nd
birthday party for my paternal grandmother Mary Gonzales. It was quite a sight,
as when we arrived at the party the mariachi band happened to be walking in as
well, so we had our own entrance music.
The
Gonzales family was rocked less than two weeks later as grandma Mary was called
home on July 12th. Strange yet familiar emotions developed during
that time; I often had found I had to force myself to feel sadness, as my
gratitude left no room for the sadness that attempted to creep in here and
there. Sure, I had my moments, where I would drop to my knees and bawl like a
baby. Yet I also thought of friends I knew in school who lost their
grandmothers when they were in 3rd or 4th grade. My
grandmother was in my life until I was nearly at the half century mark, and my
children grew to know and love her just as I did at their ages. Can’t be sad
about that…
I was also let go from my job of seven years and in spite of the financial troubles unemployment brings, it was the best thing that could have happened for me. Not only did it give me the opportunity to get to Little League Opening Day, it paved the way for two outstanding camping trips and several memorable hikes. Best of all, it freed me of the absolute worst morale I’ve ever seen in a workplace…
I’m not making resolutions this year. In fact, the last time I made a New Year’s resolution I was drunk. When I decided I needed to remove alcohol from my life, I would have been dead had I waited until the New Year to change. Thankfully, I learned change starts now. To set a date and wait for change is the first step toward ensuring change never happens…
Resolutions Part Deux: I do make resolutions almost daily; anytime and anywhere I see a need for change. One resolution I make every day is to remove anyone and everyone who may be a negative force in my life, regardless of title, relation or how long I’ve known the person. When Summer passed I made a point to add her initials permanently next to Tony Gwynn’s on my gameday shoes. Someone commented with a wiseass and unintelligent comment about the initials. I replied, stating they were a tribute for a dear friend. The person then made another comment which suggested he was making the post about him, making no comment about Summer. Deleted, and I haven’t gone out of my way to speak to the person since. Purge. Don’t say “But I’ve known him/her so long.” Feels damn good…
Opening Day was bittersweet for more than one reason but one bit of news made it the most bittersweet opener of all. For the past ten or so years, every Opening Day at Petco Park brought with it news of a dear friend who had passed over the winter. When I went to visit my good friend Keith Milledge I saw his daughter in his seat. The look on her face told me all I needed to know; my friend had passed. We walked away with a win that day, but I could not shake and still have not shaken the feeling of such overwhelming loss. A life well lived, Keith. Thank you for your friendship…
Bittersweet, Hipster Edition: Went to the Monster Trucks in January, definitely not a baseball crowd. Opening Day wasn’t much of a baseball crowd either, at least not as I once knew them. I felt so out of place unless I was in a pocket of real fans; fans of the team and the game. It looked like a good chunk of the crowd was there just to drink craft beers and take selfies. The older I get, the more I understand why Tony Gwynn used to say his favorite game of the year was the day after Opening Day…
Another loss: My high school buddy David “Noodles” Lynn passed in late April. I hadn’t seen Dave in over twenty five years and had only recently gotten back in touch with him. As I wrote in April, he was one to ride the river with. Good man, even though it’ll be a few years before I’ll be able to tell my sons most of the stories about him…
New job is going pretty well. Must be, I was named employee of the month after my first month. Working with adults with disabilities is something I never imagined myself doing. Now I can’t imagine myself not doing it. Thanks to me, some of these people have held a snake for the first time, gone on their first hike, seen a deer in the wild for the first time and learned so many other things in my presence. I still think they’re teaching me more than I am teaching them…
Had a
memorable camping trip in May, one of record five on the year for Jojo. Burnt
Rancheria in the Laguna Mountains was nearly empty due to the threat of rain,
hail and temperatures in the low 30’s. We hiked the PCT, cooked steaks over the
campfire, stalked wild turkeys and lived like mountain men. Had I asked Jojo if
he was willing to camp in such dreary conditions he likely would have said no.
That’s what I didn’t ask him. Instead I showed him he could do it…
Not counting the many cookbooks, historical reference, and natural history books, I’ve read twenty-seven books this year. If I had to make one resolution this year, it would be to read more. I’m slacking…
Went to church for the first time in years last week. Nothing against anyone’s beliefs, but I get close to my interpretation of God every day. I just get closer to him on the trail, far from any and all buildings. Days later a good friend sent me a quote from John Muir; “I would rather be in the mountains thinking about God than at church thinking about the mountains.” That was me last Sunday…
So in no
way is this a complete recap of the year. And I may even be forgetting some
things. But if you’ve read this far, I thank you and ask that you strongly
consider the following:
We all
need somebody. Whether it’s a spouse, companion or just a friendly smile and
wave to a stranger, we all need someone. And equally important, we need to be
needed. May sound strange to some, might make perfect sense to others. But
here’s how I learned this.
As I mentioned I was let go in April from a job I had held for seven years. Some of you may have seen posts I’ve made since about the nearly unbearable ignorance I faced with some guests. What I didn’t talk about is the, excuse my language, absolute shit management structure I worked under. Here and there I encountered some with decent leadership skills but overall, it was a system that demanded high morale yet did nothing to help morale and ignored the glaring signs of the reasons for the low morale.
So when I
left, I was in a financial situation which enabled me to take the summer off,
my first since I was around thirteen years old. Hikes, vacations, beach trips
it truly was a summer to remember. But toward the end of the summer some
strange things started happening. Before this summer, anxiety was as foreign to
me as rocket science. I never had it so I had no understanding of it. Sure,
I’ve had my bouts with depression over the years but with depression, I always
was able to trace it to the source; loss of a loved one, end of a relationship
or simply a series of poor decisions.
But this anxiety came out of nowhere, for no reason. I would sit for hours staring at my computer screen, paralyzed with fear over something as simple as an email about a Cub Scout meeting or a basic question about camping. Later I found myself driving my son home from school and every second of the way, feeling like I was on the verge of a major car accident even though there were no other cars on the road driving in a way that could cause a collision.
Even today,
I stare at a text of the simplest matters and for some reason, I cannot reply
no matter the subject. Makes me think of the baseball catcher who simply cannot
make the throw back to the pitcher.
I know it
is psychological on at least some level, but I have had some success in
battling it from a physical standpoint. In early fall I all but cut caffeine,
which is hard to do because I love my coffee. I’ve upped it again as of late,
but not on the level of past years and more important, I’ve been much more
mindful of eating right. Gone are the days of waking up at 6am and not eating
until noon and having half a pot of coffee in between. That has helped
considerably. And during the brief time I worked as a courier, I found that
being out on the road helped some. Yet it’s still there. The email thing is
still occurring, just not nearly as much a before. Still I sometimes agonize
over a text and feel like I’ve moved a mountain once I have replied.
I have thought of going to see a doctor about it, but there is no one on the planet who can convince me a doctor will care more about my personal well-being than he does about Big Pharmacy. I’ve seen it before and hell, they say it right there in the commercials. Every pill they try and sell you has a laundry list of side effects, and you’ll invariably see a list of pills to help with those side effects. And you know the screwed up thing? Descriptions for many pills prescribed for anxiety and depression state side effects can include “Suicidal or psychotic thoughts”.
I sometimes think it will be with me the rest of my days and truth be told, I would take that over the side effects. Besides, I have done quite well managing it. I know they say telling someone with depression to “just pray about it” is not always the best advice and I can see why. At least, not “just”. I burn sage when I pray, and the smell takes me back to the first trails I hiked alone as a child. It’s a brief trip to the hills even though I am in the city. I have a wide selection of fine teas I tend to drink at night, a more natural way of relaxing myself.
I have a close group of friends who are my spiritual advisors and confidants. One is a schoolteacher and to me, the epitome of what a good Christian is. Another is a devout Catholic who is indeed the example of all that is good in religion. Still another is one who scoffs at the thought of religion and dares to think not what we are often told to think, but thinks upon what he has learned and insists upon exposing the truths beyond what is popular to believe, and that’s the very reason I value his words as much as anyone I have known in my life.
I know a guy whose political beliefs differ greatly from mine but unlike many people from either side, will not look down upon another for a different belief and still will look for the qualities in others in spite of those differences. We have a few common interests and our areas of knowledge are different and I have learned so much from him.
I have my anxiety on its heels and I am not letting up. In recent months I found the best way for me to, if not defeat it, keep it at a distance. As I mentioned I am now working with adults with disabilities. There’s a few I work with whom you may never know has a learning disability. Others are more obvious. Take for instance a kid I work with a few days a week. Confined to a wheelchair, his communication abilities are limited. Day by day I learn how to better communicate with him and the others. He can’t move the wheels of the chair himself; he is completely reliant on others for that. Yet sometimes, I feel like I need them more than they need me.
I often wonder who’s teaching who. Sure, some might not get along great with some of the others but you can pick any ten people from any walk of life and you can bet they will not all get along.
Yet never
once have I heard one put another down, nor have I seen one carry themselves as
better than another because of materiel possession, or sports team, or
financial status, or any of the other shallow trappings of “success” this world
and culture has programmed us to believe in. Alright, there’s a long tangent to
go with that one but I’ll save that one for another time.
The point
is, while alone time is vital to personal well-being too much alone time can
make things even worse. This is why now, more than ever I am very selective
with who I involve myself with. They come from all walks of life; their
backgrounds and beliefs as varied as all the birds in the world. Yet I choose
to be close to them for one reason.
All inspire me to be a better person, every day.
Inspire. How often do we hear, read and speak that word? I have found myself gravitating to those who inspire me, or those who I inspire. If neither is happening, I am wasting my time and they are wasting their time. And the only thing I despise more than wasting my time is wasting someone else’s time.
That said, let’s not waste our time or anyone else’s time this year…
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