The Glass is Half-Full

When I first met this man, in 1982 at PT O'Malley's in East Lansing after a miserable loss to Ohio State, I had no idea it was THE pivotal moment of my life and the start of a lifetime journey. If I had known, I would probably have dressed better and had someone take a picture of us dancing in front of the jukebox (before I chose to dip without telling him and we both landed on the floor!). I started to get the idea, however, that he was my life-partner later that night when he asked if he could drive me home and I said yes. Prior to my agreement, I probably should have ascertained where he parked - because we had to walk from the pub on Grand River Avenue to the back-forty, commuter lot on the other side of campus. For those unfamiliar with MSU's campus in the '80s, it was about a gazillion miles!! We never made it, because we were going slow talking, laughing and kissing that once we got about half-way we stopped in to a dorm to call a taxi (this was back before c

I'm not prone to host pity parties. In fact, the last one I had was over five years ago when I transitioned to the wheelchair. It was a good one, if memory serves, and over forty pounds joined me where they lingered, resulting in a long miserable hang-over. But, it being a pandemic and all, I felt like hosting another pity party. I mean it's a fricking, once in a lifetime opportunity, right? Here I am, gimpy and immune compromised and shut-in for three weeks. I have my "co-workers" John, Matthew and Delaney here with me, Facetime and Zoom for human contact. But I miss my friends, family, WW coworkers and members, people at church, my pharmacist, Bill at the gas station, the owners and staff at a couple restaurants, the florist, the smart-ass cashier at Aldi, the wonderful people at the vet's office, all the healthcare workers I'd be seeing at the oncologist's/neurologist's/optometrist's/dentist's/family doc's offices and all the