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I know it’s been awhile

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(appeared in today’s Patterson Irrigator HERE)

Hello fellow Pattersonites! It’s me. I know it’s been months since I’ve written. Time got away from me. It really did. Seems like just yesterday we were washing our groceries with dish soap and feeling grateful to find 1-ply toilet paper at the store. We didn’t care that our butts were chafed, we were happy to be alive.

I apologize for the delay in checking in, of course, but I thought I should touch base so you know that I’m not dead. Also, I wanted to let you know that I haven’t done anything crazy since last I wrote, either. For example:

#1. I haven’t joined a cult.

#2. I haven’t wasted twenty million dollars to go to space with Elon Musk.

#3. And I definitely haven’t joined an online multi-level marketing scheme to sell organic lip balm to every person I’ve known since 1997.

(Come to think of it, both #2 and #3 are also cults.)

Anyway, I hope you’ve been staying well and safe— and that you aren’t dehydrated from sobbing at the gas pump. So, make sure you drink lots of water and refrain from other activities that are bad for your health, too— like watching TikTok videos or being within six feet of Aaron Rodgers.

A lot has happened since last I wrote— on the local level, on the global level and on the personal level. But I can go no further without remarking on a sad local event. The passing of Ron Swift.

Publisher emeritus, quip master, and all-around stupendous fellow, Patterson will never again know a man as dedicated as Mr. Swift. We were lucky that Ron made this town his home all those years ago. For while Ron knew the things that needed doing, Ron also DID the things that needed doing. And it was done with a wry smile, self-deprecating wit— and little fanfare.

We could all learn something from that.

Seventeen years ago, Ron welcomed me to the Patterson Irrigator columnist family with open arms and was always there if I needed him. I appreciated that very much. He was Patterson’s very own Yoda, offering valuable perspective in a unique way that was always genuine and always unpretentious.

What a guy, Ron was. Missed, he will be.

On the global front, the last two years have been seismic. And, no, I’m not just talking about when Will Smith slapped Chris Rock. It’s been crazytown all over the place. For two years. Remember when a bunch of people attacked the US Capitol like zombies from The Walking Dead? Or when Prince Harry decided royal life was total crap? Or when Tom Brady retired from the NFL only to unretire himself a few weeks later?

It’s important to note that during much of this time many of us did not wear real shoes. Only socks or slippers with treads on the bottom for when we went to the grocery store. Or when we walked the 10 feet to our front door to grab the pile of Amazon packages sitting there. Sadly, we went so long without wearing real shoes that we can no longer fit them on our stumpy feet. But, when we go online to buy new (bigger) shoes, we now discover that shoes are 259% more expensive than the last time we bought them.

Yet, truthfully, it hasn’t all been bad. We did learn how to bake banana bread and what it felt like to spend 168 hours a week with our own children. So, there is that.

I do have to say, though, that some things that happened since my last column did come as a surprise to me. For example, I did not have “Putin Goes Ballistic” on my 2022 bingo card. Sure, I’ve made a lot of jokes about Putin in the past. About his shortness, his love of Botox, and the way his beady eyes look like death lasers. But I didn’t think he’d start a reenactment of the year 1939. Maybe I was naive, but you’d think he would have known that it was a bad idea. After all, everyone hates a bully. Everyone. It’s baked into our human genome. We hate bullies just as much as we love chubby babies, ranch dressing and Labradoodles. It’s even in the Bible. (Just ask Goliath.)

On a personal note, since my last column, two big events have happened in my life. First, I got an orange kitten. His name is Charley and he loves cheddar cheese, chasing tin foil balls, and taking naps on my wheelchair— mostly while I’m sitting in it. We’ve acclimated to life together pretty well, especially considering he tries to steal my breakfast two or three times a week. I’m sure I’ll share more about Charley in the coming days. After all, it’s hard for me to write about much else since he spends most of his day sitting on top of me. So, stay tuned.

The other big news? I turned 40. This may not sound like a big deal to most, but to me, it really was. After all, for most of my life, I didn’t know if I would live to see the age of 40 because most born with my disability do not.

As a kid, reaching 40 years old seemed like a mythical accomplishment. Something that was theoretically possible, but not likely to happen— like growing up to marry Indiana Jones or becoming best friends with DJ Tanner. While cool possibilities, it definitely was not in the cards for me.

In all honesty, the arrival of the COVID pandemic did not bode well for my chances to reach this milestone. I watched disabled and high-risk folks here, and around the world, lose battles with the virus. Yet, at the same time, I saw many doubt the risks. I heard jokes about masks, vaccines and other protective measures. Weirdly, I can understand this. After all, it’s easier to believe you’re immune from it all when you don’t look like me. It’s easier to push it all aside when you think you’re not one of those “pre-conditioned people.”

Coming into my 40th birthday during this pandemic was a surreal experience. For two years, each day has been difficult— for ALL of us. Yet, personally, I have keenly felt that each day has been a gift, too. Even though we still have a long way to go, each day I have survived has been a small victory.

Thus, when the clock ticked to midnight on my 40th birthday, I stared out into the darkness of my bedroom—contemplating how far I had come. And, then, I whispered:

“Watch out, Indiana Jones… I’m coming for you.”

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2019: A Reader’s Digest

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If you’re taking the time to read this, I’d like to commend you. While 2019 was a year of many events— on the local, national and international levels— there’s one activity that didn’t rank too highly in our collective lives this year. Reading. You know, the process by which the brain computes letters into words that eventually become ideas that we can think about inside our brains?

Frankly, it’s not surprising that no one reads anymore. Given our online world, if something can’t be shared in a meme, a 30 second video, or a 140-character Tweet, we are not interested. We’ve conditioned ourselves to only digest information in small amounts— like penguins regurgitating fish guts to baby chicks. So, to that end, I’ll try to keep this year-end summary brief.

On the international front, once again it was a great year for dictatorships. Vladimir Putin expanded his sphere of influence in Syria, Turkey and Ukraine, bringing Russia into a golden era of power not seen since Comrade Stalin gobbled up Eastern Europe like PAC-Man.

But, the real power-player of the year was Xi Jinping of China. After previously declaring himself the Wizard of Middle Earth, Jinping contained a huge public protest in Hong Kong, all while secretly detaining over a million people from ethnic minority groups into concentration camps— which the Chinese government lovingly call “Education Centers for Naughty Hobbits.” It’s very important, though, that no one talk or write about any of these events in Middle Earth because no one wants to pay more than $5 for a bottle of aspirin.

Science made a lot of discoveries in 2019. Astronomers released the first-ever photograph of a massive black hole captured by an intricate system of telescopes. Black holes are described as having gravitational forces so intense that nothing can escape— including light, atomic particles and Lori Loughlin’s career.

In New Zealand, biologists discovered ancient fossils from an unknown species of giant parrot that could grow to be three feet tall. That’s a really big bird. I bet it’d be a challenge to find a cage large enough for a parrot that is the size of a human toddler.

But, hey, maybe US Immigration could part with a few of theirs?

On the domestic front, the news-cycle has been dominated by tweets written by President Donald Trump at 3 o’clock in the morning. These tweets are widely shared because, as we established earlier, 140-characters is the maximum amount that most Americans can read at one time. This short-attention span has been very beneficial to the president because when Robert Mueller’s long-awaited 448-page report was finally released in April, no one actually read it.

In Hollywood, movie adaptations of the Avengers, Spider-Man and Captain Marvel all raked in the most cash at the box office. There are only two possible reasons for this. Either Americans can’t be bothered to read books made of cartoon drawings, or we’re desperate for a hero to save the world from certain doom.

In political news, we began 2019 with 25 Democratic candidates running for president. In the months since, an additional 379 people have joined the race. This includes a surprising number of billionaires— like Mike Bloomberg, Tom Steyer, Bruce Wayne and Scrooge McDuck. The candidates all claim to be able to beat Donald Trump, but their platforms and ideas exceed 140-characters, so I fear their chances of holding onto an audience are pretty slim.

Meanwhile, Congress has been awash with hearings of all kinds— hearings on presidential impeachment, hearings about executive abuses of power, and hearings about whether using the Oxford Comma would be seen as too socialist. No one knows how it will all turn out, but it still remains that less than 20% of Americans can find Ukraine on a map.

Back here at home, California is still no closer to building the high-speed train that was begun during the Millard Fillmore administration. Budget and cost overruns have plagued the high-speed rail process. Yet, at the same time, Governor Gavin Newsom’s pearly white smile remains suspiciously well-maintained. I don’t know if these two things are related, but I once bought Crest tooth whitening strips at Target and they cost more than the pair of pants I’m currently wearing.

In Patterson, it’s been an eventful year, too. As the revitalized Patterson Family Pharmacy is constructed, several new establishments have opened, as well— including a Starbucks and a Round Table Pizza. The latter establishment unfortunately joins the 692 other places that sell pizza in town. But, the new Round Table does distinguish itself by giving customers cool space-age wristbands. After these high-tech wristbands precisely dispense beer into cups, customers have the option of getting beamed onto the Starship Enterprise.

As 2019 comes to a close, we have much for which to be thankful. We can be thankful for our family, our friends and our great community. Lastly, we can also rejoice that we won’t often need to use those reading glasses we bought at Walgreens.

After all, it’s pretty easy to squint or trombone-through something that’s 140-characters, or less.

Wishing all of you a happy and healthy 2020.

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Muddy Habits

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As the old saying goes, “Some habits are hard to break.” I tend to think that all habits are hard to break— otherwise we wouldn’t call them habits. They’d just be things-we-do-sometimes. Or stuff-we-do-without-thinking-about-it. Or, if you’re President of the United States, it would be called Tweeting-At-3am.

I have many habits; in fact, my life is awash in routine. I find it calming to live life this way. To use another cliché, I am not the kind of person to “fly by the seat of my pants.” In fact, this would be a physical impossibility since the seat of my pants is firmly affixed to my wheelchair. Unless Superman swoops down from the heavens, I’m not flying anywhere. This is not to say that I would object to this concept, though. I wouldn’t— because Clark Kent is hot.

Not all my habits are as healthy or as useful. For example, when I get anxious, I pick at my fingernails. As a kid, I used to bite my fingernails, but when I learned how many germs lurk underneath, I was totally cured of that practice. So, now I pick at them, instead. It is still somewhat gross, but less disgusting. At least that is what I tell myself.

We all have habits, like these, that we shouldn’t do. Given the heaps of rain we’ve had this year in Patterson, I know one thing that no one should be foolish enough to try— and that’s driving a vehicle into, or through, the mud.

Our agricultural land is rich— and heavy. The nutrients and clay make the ground in the Patterson area some of the best soil in the world. But, this heaviness means that if the soil gets saturated, or even slightly wet, it will sink anything that tries to drive through it.

So, please, don’t do it. I’ve seen cars, trucks, vans, tractors, school buses, and most recently, a USPS mail truck, get stuck in Patterson’s mud. It took three men to free the poor, bedraggled mail truck from the sloppy mess.

Take a wrong turn? Decide to try to turn around off the side of a country road? Think again. You better hope you find a friendly farmer or a dude with a huge truck to pull your dumb self out of the mud.

If, by sheer luck, you manage to not get fully stuck, you will make such a mess getting out of the mud that the resulting crater will be seen from space. Russian cosmonauts on the International Space Station will be too busy laughing at you to help rig any more elections.

I’ll make you a deal. If you promise to not drive in the mud, I will try to stop picking my nails. While I can’t make any guarantees, I’ll do my best.

Maybe these habits won’t be that hard to break, after all.