by Unknown
In 1995, I bought the vacant lot next door, from the daughter of parents who passed away. Her parents had purchased two lots when the lake development first started. They built their house on one of the lots and left the other vacant because they didn’t want anyone living next to them. A few years before I bought the lot their son was killed in a motorcycle accident. Strange things started occurring as soon as I built my house.
The original lady of the house next door was an established artist interested in the Victorian style. She painted women in beautiful gowns and hats on her bedroom door.
Since the original owners passing, four families have lived in the house next door. The first family painted over the Victorian paintings on the bedroom doors. Soon afterward, their two cats started hissing at night. They would stare at the door that had been painted over. Stranger things continued to happen.
Several times the second home owners’ daughter saw a Victorian-looking female apparition in the upstairs hallway at night. As she roamed the hallway, she appeared unhappy and seemed a bit upset. The daughter’s cat would hiss and then scat under the bed in fright.
Perhaps another apparition had wandered next door to our house, since it sat next to the original property.
“I don’t see anyone,” I said.
“He was right there,” Karen said, pointing to the top of the stairs.
I turned on the bedroom light and saw nothing. I searched most of the house and found nothing unusual.
“The sound seemed to come from our walk-in closet,” Karen added.
I gripped the bat tightly as I slowly crept into the closet, with Karen following and peeping over my shoulder.
To our surprise there lay a large empty plastic storage container on the floor in the middle of the closet. The container had been stored on an upper shelf for a number of years. So why, all of a sudden, had it fallen to the floor in the middle of this night?
The next night Karen awoke as another loud thump again sounded in the middle of the night. Next to the stairs she saw someone standing in the dim moonlight. Only this time he stood there wearing nothing but the yellow bandanna.
“Tom,” she shouts in fright.
“He’s back.”
Now, my thinking was to instill a little humor into a frightful situation. As it turned out though, it was a darn good thing she didn’t know where I kept the gun or I would have probably died that night. Heaven forbid, another ghost wandering the neighborhood, especially an ‘old fart’ like me, wearing only a yellow bandanna.
CHAPTER SIX
Dream Weaver
I’ve just closed my eyes again. Climbed aboard the dream weaver train. Driver take away my worries of today and leave tomorrow behind, oh…dream weaver.
I once dreamed that on a day in this galaxy, I would retire from working. I started living that dream on star date January 1, 2005!
My formula for breathing now is quite simple: get up each morning, go to bed each night. In between, occupy myself the best I can.
When my wife asks, “What’ca doing today, honey?”
I answer, “Nothing honey!”
She replied, “But you did that yesterday.”
I answer, “I wasn’t finished yet, honey!”
When she catches me napping, I tell her that I’m meditating, cause it makes doing nothing sound more respectable.
Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Believe it or not, it does take getting used to not being on a schedule. At first, it seemed I was on an extended vacation.
The only trouble I have with retirement is I never get a day off. Can you imagine that! I really do miss hating Mondays—NOT. I usually don’t know what day it is except for Sundays. That’s only because the newspaper is thick with ads that day.
American Airlines were laying people off and offered some of us old-timers a buyout. Even though I was only 62, I took the money and ran.
*****
Most of my life I have had an inspiration to write a novel. Unfortunately, I never found the time to fulfill that dream. After retiring, time was no longer an excuse. The subject became the obstacle. To get me motivated, my wife suggested I write my memoirs. “You have had an interesting life,” she commented. “It would make an intriguing story.”
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. After all, I am the only person who knows all my memories. When I pass, they will be lost and gone forever. Recording them would mean that they would live forever. An added bonus would be that my descendants would have a history book to learn where their idiocy originated.
I started writing my memories in a thick paper notebook. After 50 pages with arrows pointing every which way and notes scribbled everywhere, I had a complete, genuine mess on my hands. Again, my wife came to the rescue.
“Why don’t you join the modern world and get a computer?”
Duh! Brilliant idea, honey! Why hadn’t I thought of that? Probably because the thought a having a computer was scary for me. It turned out I was right, ’cause right off the bat the computer and I had issues. That was until we finally came to an agreement that I take a class and learn a little more about it. We still have issues, but they can usually be resolved.
It still took me two years to complete the memoir. Behold: The Comeback Kid, The Memoirs of Thomas L. Hay was published in November 2011.
When I looked at my life, I recognized that life was but a series of events, much like an assorted box of chocolates, never knowing what would come next. I chose the title The Comeback Kid because of the many peaks and valleys I had during my life’s journey. Somehow, I had always found a way to comeback from the valleys.
Writing my memoirs turned out to be a revitalizing and emotional trip. Many joyful and sad tears were shed. It was like getting into a time machine, traveling back in time, and reliving life all over again.
To jog my memory, I used song titles. A particular song would remind me of a person, a place, a time, or an event in my life. Example: ‘Heartbreak Hotel,’ when my first wife informed me that she wanted a divorce.
There would be many nights I’d wake up and remember something. Better get up and write it down, because if I didn’t, I’d forget it by morning. Karen was a light sleeper and almost always woke up when I got up.
“What’s wrong dear?” she would ask.
“Just a little gas, honey,” or “Got a cramp, honey. Go back to sleep.”
Many times I felt like ‘What the heck am I doing this for?’ Who would care, besides maybe a few family members and friends? It’s not like I am rich and famous and everyone was excited to know about me.
But, what the heck? Now my future generations will know where their idiocy came from, as I will be leaving them a history book. I can now add ‘author’ to my résumé, although at my age it will more likely be added to my obituary. I am achieving a goal and desire I’ve always had. But the best reason of all is that I can boast that I will live forever!
MY LIFE BEFORE THE COMPUTER
Memory was something lost with age.
An application was for a job.
A program was a TV show.
A keyboard was on a piano.
A web was built by a spider.
A virus was the flu bug.
A CD was a tool for an investment.
A hard drive was a long and difficult trip by car.
A mouse pad was where mice lived.
And a three-and-a-half-inch floppy disk was something you hoped nobody would find out about.
*****
“Get that frickin’ car moving or get out of the frickin’ way!” an irritated voice shouted at me one day.
Jesus! What’s wrong with people? Why is everyone in such a hurry? Take some time to smell the roses.
Just turn down that blasted car stereo. That thumpity-thump crap is not what I call music. And please, when you get out of the car, pull up your pants, so I don’t have to see that you’re from the Y generation. And if you would get off the cell phone m
aybe you could pay attention to where you’re going.
I’m finding out that the good ole’ days are a-changing. Changing way too fast for me to keep up. I never had a problem with the way it was.
Suddenly, there’s cordless punch-dialing phones, voice mail, texting, and caller ID. Phones are now computers, cameras, and have access to the internet. They have taken over everyone’s life as people can’t stand to be without them. If you don’t believe me, just lose it for a few hours and feel your panic.
Don’t even ask me what iPhones, iPods, iPads, or Wi-Fi are for. Everyone has a computer and is hooked to the internet with Facebook, Twitter, and so many other social media outlets that make my head spin. Now I’m getting POKED and don’t feel a darn thing while having no idea what could be happening to me.
Television now has big-screen home theaters in high definition, 3-D, and surround sound. Just about everyone has their own little home movie theater. There are so many televisions to choose from with LED, LCD, Plasma, DVR’s, with so many other whistles and bells that I have no clue as to their purpose.
We now have more than 1,000 channels to select from. I can even see on the TV screen who it is that is calling me on the phone. There are CD’s, X-Boxes, Play Stations, GPS, and ATM’s. It’s mind boggling!
But, I’m living proof that a person can survive without an ATM card or a cell phone.
P.S. In 2014, the ‘boss’ (that’d be the wife) retired and got herself a ‘smart’ phone. She insisted I take her ‘dumb’ phone, but if you call me you will probably hear: Hello! This is Tom. I’m not available right now, but you can leave a message.
Someday I might figure out how to retrieve the messages, but don’t count it.
There is so much more techno stuff that my grandkids show me that I haven’t a clue about. I’m getting dizzy just thinking about being born before TV, penicillin, polio shots, frozen food, Xerox, contact lenses, artificial joints, and the pill. Before credit cards, laser beams, ball-point pens, pantyhose, air conditioning, dishwashers, and clothes dryers.
In my day “grass” was mowed, “Coke” was a soda drink, and “pot” was what mom cooked in. “Speed” was something we did to get a ticket. “Ecstasy” had something to do with falling in love. “Ice” was what made a mixed drink on the rocks.
My generation has experienced greater change at a faster pace than any time in the history of mankind. Fundamental changes are occurring at an unprecedented rate, and no one has a clue where it will lead us.
What’s an old fart like me to do? Change or get left behind. I think getting left behind won’t be so bad as long as it’s not during the Rapture.
Us ‘old farts’ are easy to spot at sporting events. We’re the ones who remove our hats and stand at attention during the National Anthem. We remember Pearl Harbor, the Korean War, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, and the first moon landing.
If you bump into one of us, we’ll most likely apologize. We’ll nod and tip our hat when passing you in the street. We’ll hold doors for you, ladies. You don’t even have to be pretty. We don’t like filthy language on TV, in the movies, and especially coming from our grandkids. Old guys have moral courage and personal integrity. We seldom brag unless it’s about family.
We recognize it’s the young men and women in our military and not the politicians who protect our great country. America needs old guys with their work ethic, sense of personal responsibility, pride, and values now more than ever. I best move on, ’cause you youngish are probably getting irritated with my ‘preaching’.
Aside from my writing, I did get a job, but I really am stretching it to call it a job. As you know, golf has become my most enjoyable hobby since retirement. To ease the cost, I now ‘work’ at two courses. And when I’m not golfing or working at a golf course, you’ll find me on my pontoon singing to the fish.
I suppose, aside from all the aches and pains, getting old isn’t so bad. After all, I’m still breathing. So you could say that, yes, I am living my dream.
Oh, by the way. The St. Louis Cardinals won their tenth World Series, beating the Detroit Tigers in 2006. Payback from the 1968 loss to them. Only the Yankees have won more World Series than the Cardinals! Now some of you Royals fans might think I am rubbing it in, but you can’t dispute the facts. And if the shoe was on the other foot…
*****
…Happy birthday, happy birthday baby, you are so old…60 candles, make a godly sight. But not as bright as the room tonight. Blow out your candles, make your wish come true. For you’ll be wishing for a rocking chair soon.…(Grim Reaper version)
December 7, 1941. A date most American’s remember. That same date, four years later my little brother came into this world. A day that only he, I, and a few others might remember. December 7, 2005, was a date he and I will forever remember. I pulled off my best prank yet.
My mischievous wife, who likes to play pranks as much as I do, suggested the Reaper should make appearances at some ‘old folks’ birthday parties, so I purchased a Grim Reaper costume. My brother’s sixtieth was another perfect opportunity for a Reaper visit.
Since Mike was living in Costa Rica, this was not going to be an easy task. But, when there is a will, there is a way.
I arranged for some of his friends to take him out to dinner that night. The Reaper came out after dinner carrying his birthday cake. At first he thought I was a stripper, but when I sat on his lap and started singing the Reaper version of the Birthday song, he recognized my voice.
“Tom!” he shouted as he ripped off my mask.
I had never seen him so shocked and surprised. And it was the first time I saw him cry like a baby. I think that was the best one I ever pulled off.
*****
…You an’ me, we sweat an’ strain, body all achin’ an’ wracked wid pain…Ol’ Man River feeling the pain.
It’s about this time in life things start breaking down. One knee had already given out. What next?
In April of 2006, Karen and I were enjoying the beach in Costa Rica when all of a sudden it started feeling like someone was sitting on my chest. Every time I tried to take a deep breath, they got heavier.
The cheeseburgers, steaks, French fries, and milkshakes had caught up with me. I was having another angina attack. I had had this feeling a couple of months before and had to go to a hospital emergency room. They gave me some blood thinning pills and sent me home.
Thank God I had my pills with me in Costa Rica. They enabled me to make it home, and I went straight to the hospital. This time, it was determined I needed angioplasty surgery as soon as possible. I was sent to Lawrence Hospital in Kansas (Oh no! Jayhawk country) because they could perform it the soonest.
Karen advised I best keep my mouth shut about being a Tiger. She didn’t have to worry about me not taking her advice this particular time. After all, breathing became more important than rivalry. Ended up, I only needed one stent, and I was good to go.
Getting old can be a bitch. Next, my left hip pain was getting unbearable. Man, I was falling apart. I had limped around on that bad knee so long that it screwed up the hip on that side, too. I heard a hip replacement was not as painful as a knee replacement. There was no way I wanted that kind of pain again.
So in August 2007, I had a total left hip replacement. This time, I let myself be a wimp and took the morphine at the first sign of pain. I could take a laxative for the constipation.
So now, the left side of me is bionic. I may be the next six million dollar man! I know I give those TSA agents at the airport a fit when I walk through those security devices. Then they give me a fit because I light up like a Christmas tree. It can get a bit annoying having to go through a pat down every time.
Now I am having pain in my right knee, and I have been told it’s just a matter of time before it will need to be replaced. Guess I am lucky I am getting old now with all this new technology, because if this had happened several years back, I’d probably be in a wheelchair.
Okay, enough about
an old man’s aches and pains. Oh, but wait a minute. I haven’t told you about my cataract, carpal tunnel, plantar fasciitis, and melanoma.
I can now hear at least two of my sisters shouting, “Okay, Tom, that’s enough!”
*****
…First I was afraid, I was petrified, kept thinking I could never live without you by my side…
Cancer. Just the word alone strikes fear into the hearts of many and mine was to be one, too. At first, it was just a scare, but then it got very real.
Karen, like all women should do, had scheduled her annual mammogram. This time, it showed a calcification lump beneath her right breast.
Her doctor said it was probably nothing to worry about, but as a precaution, a biopsy was ordered.
On June 14, 2009, Karen called me at my work.
“Tom. The doctor said I have cancer.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks.
It’s very difficult for me to explain the feeling that came over me. The best I can come up with is that it felt like someone punched me in the stomach and the breath got sucked right out of me.
I cried. I got mad at God, and I cried some more and got even madder at God. It was the most awful, miserable feeling I had ever experienced. How could this happen to such a wonderful person? Even as I’m writing this, I’m having to take deep breaths and wipe away my tears. I’m thinking this would be a good chapter to skip, but my dearly beloved wouldn’t want me to.
“But he said that it’s fixable since we caught it early,” she added.
But those words of encouragement didn’t do much to comfort me.
We were informed her tumor was small, and she would be a candidate for just a lumpectomy. No need to remove her breast.
They removed the tumor and three lymph nodes. The three lymph nodes turned out negative.
