Enduring Love and Faithfulness

January 14, 2010 by Sparks 4 Comments

“…he spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness.”

Those words were spoken by the Dread Pirate Roberts in “The Princess Bride.” The scene was where Westley (aka Roberts) had found his Princess Buttercup after 5 years.

I watched that movie again last night. At my grandparents’ house. As my grandfather ages, it has become necessary for my sister, brother, and me to spend time at their house helping and doing what we can to make life easier for both grandma and grandpa.

As I watched the movie, I thought of the 65+ years my grandparents have been together. Sure, they’ve had good times, bad times, and everything in between. My grandfather was a WWII POW, he was on the road as a truck driver for years – they had time apart. They had time together.

Through it all, though, they stuck together.


(above: 1945 – Ronald and Hershel Sparks)

(above: 1970’s – Ronald and Hershel Sparks)

(above: January 2010 – Ronald and Hershel Sparks)

They have been together for over 65 years. That’s enduring love and faithfulness people. That’s awe-inspiring. I just married my life’s love, Carey. I don’t think I can pick better role models to emulate in many ways than my grandparents. They have learned to live together. To accept each other. To love each other, not in spite of their flaws, but because of them.

I have an extremely heavy heart right now. My grandfather’s health is failing and I’m afraid we’re counting months, maybe weeks, before we lose him. I could be wrong, but his decline has accelerated. I took that last picture last night as my grandmother was gently waking my grandfather from a nap in his chair.

Even after 65 years she looks at him with such love and tenderness it brought tears to my eyes. I am truly lucky to have seen such a great love in my lifetime.

Westley and Buttercup have nothing on my grandparents.

Life
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Cancer Anxiety Blues

January 4, 2010 by Sparks 0 Comments

BB KingYep – it’s hit – the cancer anxiety blues. 3 months ago I had a clean PET scan. No signs of cancer.

Now I have 3 months to go until I get my next scan. The anxiety is setting in. I am seeing cancer in every little ache and pain. I am getting nervous.

I guess this is my life right now. Every six months a PET scan. Every 3 months the worry about the next scan sets in. It’s becoming a predictable pattern now.

Maybe I should write a blues song for it. . .

Cancer
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Captive Audience

January 3, 2010 by Sparks 0 Comments

captive audienceYou gotta hand it to the airlines – the know they have a captive audience when you fly.

We’re all used to the pre-flight checklist the TSA requires the airlines to review with you before each and every flight. We accept them as SOP when we fly. The flight attendants come on over the loudspeaker and go through their shtick so loud it is virtually impossible to ignore them.

Now, flying USAir has taken that loud, obnoxious, flight attendant to a whole new level. Carey and I were halfway through our flight back to Orlando from DC when the flight attendant came on over the loudspeaker. To advertise for a USAir credit card.

I was forced, captive, and had to listen. There was no mute button. There was no way to go to another room. There was no way to tune it out. For five minutes, the flight attendant went on and on about the rewards of signing up for the USAir credit card.

As you can imagine, I was annoyed. It was so loud that it literally hurt my ears to have to sit there and endure it. And, of course, they know this. They turn the volume up so loud because even if you are wearing headphones you are forced to hear what they are saying. Even if you are in the lavatory, a speaker is in there telling you all about the USAir credit card.

There’s absolutely no reason why they needed to commandeer my flight for a commercial. I was enjoying my book. Carey was listening to music and sleeping lightly, he head on my shoulder. If the credit card is so important to them, place a leaflet in my seat back. Place an ad in their own USAir magazine.

In short- I DID NOT OPT TO RECEIVE THIS MESSAGE. I was spammed by USAir on my flight and there was no spam filter. It is the lowest form of advertising – unsolicited, intrusive, and obnoxious to a captive audience that has no choice in the matter.

Shame on you USAir.

Life
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Chemo Brain Attack

December 30, 2009 by Sparks 2 Comments

I haven’t blogged in a while; I have been so busy with the holidays and work that i haven’t had a chance to sit down and think. The only reason I am able to do so now is that I am in a hotel room in Washington, DC and have a little insomnia.

Six months ago I blogged about how I felt chemo brain may have affected my decision to quit my old job. On the whole, the “fuzziness” to my thinking that I referred to in that post has abated. But I still, occasionally, feel the effects of my chemotherapy. It hit me really hard today and it was embarrassing and humiliating because it happened in a professional setting.

(techno babble starting – you can skip to the next section if you want)

I was in my DC office meeting with two of my employees. A few weeks ago I introduced them to the concept of Object Relational Mapping (ORM) and Service Based Architecture (SOA) in .NET applications. Most of their applications have been, to date, monolithic applications reminiscent of classic ASP applications. While they have OO training the never had the opportunity to use it.

Anyway – I introduced them to a code generator called CodeSmith and ORM templates running on CodeSmith called .netTiers.

(end techno babble)

So I sat down to train them – and my mind went utterly and completely fuzzy on me. I started stuttering. I was unable to find and perform even the most elementary programming tasks in my code editor. I certainly wasn’t able to explain the rather advanced concepts they wanted me to show them.

i knew immediately that I was having a bout of chemo brain – and I said so out loud – but I kept trying to push through it. It doesn’t work like that. I just made it worse and I had this mental image of myself as some bumbling, incoherent, buffoon.

I started doubting myself. Did I really know this stuff? Was I perhaps just a buzzword manager and I know enough to sound intelligent, but I couldn’t really do it? It seemed to me I remembered using these tools and concepts in the past, but it seemed almost unreal.

Eventually, with a lot of patience and a few deep breaths, I managed to perform the basic tasks i needed to show my employees what I had wanted to show them in the first place. It was painful for them and it was painful for me.

I went to the airort to pick up my wife immediately after the botched training attempt. She flew in to share New Year’s with me in DC. I didn’t tell her about my chemo brain. we enjoyeda nice lunch at a noodle place in Crystal City and while she went exploring DC I went back to work.

When I got back to the office, my spell had passed. I fired up my code editor and within seconds I had accomplished what had taken me 40 minutes earlier in the day. I then went on and performed even more advanced operations, alked to vendors on the phone, managed my development team in Orlando, and prety much resumed business as normal.

I don’t know much about chemo brain, but here are the facts as they seem to affect me:

  1. I am not quite as quick-witted as I seem to be.
  2. It seems harder to grasp and retain things now. I have to concentrate just a little harder.
  3. I forget things more often than I used to.
  4. It’ gotten better over time, but I am not yet back to what I perceived myself to be before I had chemo.
  5. Every once in a while, I get hit by a spell of idiocy like I did today that completely shuts down my higher cognitive abilities for about 35 minutes.

Is this normal chemo brain? I don’t know. Maybe not. maybe I am blaming chemo brain on growing older; i will be forty in 3 months, you know.

I do think it’s chemo brain though. While it is better than it used to be, it still occasionally sucks to be caught unawares by a spell I didn’t see coming.

Oh – here’s a pic of my lovely wife outside the Noodles & Company restaurant we went to for lunch today. Maybe the spicy Thai noodles I had helped me kick the chemo brain spell! More likely, though, it was the joy I felt at seeing her for the first time in 2 days when she got of the plane.

Cancer
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Martian Christmas (fiction)

December 23, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

A good friend of mine wrote this today in response to my challenge. I LOVE this short story. I know you’ll love it too.

Martian Christmas
by Teri Green

He sat back and reviewed the punch list for his new office. Naughty or Nice monitors – Check. The displays cycled through quietly-sleeping toddlers, with names displayed underneath in Green. Every so often one would click audibly as a child, who should have been nestled sung in his bed, was shown at whatever activity it was that kept them awake. Wish List printer – Check. Lists were spooling out in the ribbon of paper with name and location listed for each item. This would be parceled out to the warehouse for fulfillment after a quick review for N/N status. The Amazon-Mars red phone – well the phone was here, but the tech was due out later today so better wait to check that off the list.

source: http://www.freakingnews.com/Christmas-in-Space-Pictures---2247.aspHe traded the punch list for the report from his shop foreman. Fronar was the best, imported from the flagship office, brought here to set up tools, hire help, establish processes and safety standards. Given his experience, you had to take seriously his concerns about the workforce. While on the surface there were a lot of similarities between Elves and Martians. They were both masters of disguise, hiding from populations who did not understand them. They both had a terrible time speaking English, preferring the dialects of their forbearers, and thus requiring the translation modules. The Martians could even wear the standard issue North Pole uniform.

It was the differences that made things interesting. For example, the Elves saw the translation modules as fashion accessories, but you could not get the Martians to keep them on and Fronar was constantly picking them up off of every horizontal surface. The Elves were generally a happy group; willing to work hard and proud of their craftsmanship. They hated it when products had to be sourced through other companies, much preferring to build demand for their products by selling to outside distributors at a reduced rate during the offseason. The relationships with companies like Mattell and Hasbro had proven profitable for both sides for many years.

The Martians, however, did not have a few hundred years of history behind them to fall back on when they lost direction. They were prone to rely on Union negotiation for every little thing. Not that the Elven Union had not been utilized to great effect. Local 1 had managed to get peppermint banned from the cafeteria, and while the wrapping machine was expensive it did save money over the band-aids and paper-cut cream in the long haul. But the Martians were a very literal group. They wanted everything in writing, and they needed rules to maintain order. So, since mediation is spelled out in their union contract, the poor union negotiators have their work cut out for them – and Frodor had to live up to it all. Missing salt shakers in the cafeteria could bring the entire production line to a screeching halt, let alone a little overtime in the build up to C-day. Things taken for granted back home had to be rethought out here.

This brought him to his next agenda item. He had to decide what to tell the motor pool administrator. They still had to decide how he was going to get from base to base and deliver all these toys, once they got past all the labor issues. Reindeer, which had long been strictly for show back home, were useless here as the Reindeer EV-Suits had impeded both running and flying. That did not faze him since he had delivered his wares in everything from a sled to a military bomber back home.

Source: http://www.freakingnews.com/Christmas-in-Space-Pictures---2247.aspThe Rover suited his sense of style, but it was not designed to haul the kind of load that was necessary, and the cabin was open to the elements, or the lack thereof. An all Martian crew would not have any issues, but what could they use to protect the crushable or the combustible products in his bag? They toyed with the idea of putting a dome over the top of the Rover, but Everyone wanted to avoid the inevitable comparisons to the pope-mobile. At least there was no issue of transporting livestock. One thing to crush some toys, but animals had been banned from the wish list since that pony cantered wildly around the ribbon room, spooked by its own decorations. Good thing, too since a lot of kids were asking for actual Martians this year.

He might as well get to it. He heaved himself out of his comfy office chair and prepared to cross the compound. The dome was complete and air tight, but it was bone chilling cold here, so best to add several layers. As he left his office he glanced up at the dark night sky. Earth was not visible from this southern pole of Mars, but he knew it was up there. He needed to be here for the first Christmas on Mars, but since that was close to 2 years away, it would be a long time before he was home again. He knew Nick Jr. was capable of handling everything there, but that did not mean it was going to be easy to be away for the holidays.

–end–

Fiction
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Dealing with Cancer Anxiety

November 14, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

I was talking to a co-worker yesterday. He is finally getting to know me well enough to talk to me about my cancer. People know I have cancer – that I am a survivor with less than a year of clean scans under my belt – and are understandably hesitant to speak to me about it.

My co-worker is in awe of my attitude. He says he thinks I am a hero. He has perused my blogs, he knows a little bit about who I am, and his life was personally touched by cancer when his sister-in-law died from it a few years ago.

He said he thinks the reason I survived was because of my attitude and my spirit. While I admit that there is some kind of X-factor involved in cancer survivor-ship – I am not a hero. I agree that my determination, willpower, and refusal to give into despair have positive benefits for my body. I am definitely not a hero though – people much stronger than me fight cancer every day.

Make no mistake, though, people; I have survived this long mainly through the skilled treatment of my surgeon, my medical oncologist, my radiation oncologist, and the hundreds of health care professionals that have been a part of my care since August 2008. My surgeon, Dr. Lee. My medical oncologist, Dr. Dunn. My Radiation oncologist, Dr. Diamond. They are the heroes here.

My co-worker did ask me one really significant question, though. How did I deal with the anxiety of having cancer? When you have cancer, anxiety is a way of life. Dealing with it is an art and science in and of itself.

So what did I do? How did I cope? I wish I had a single answer, but it’s not as simple as that. I will try and tell you what helped me, though.

First, I have three children. Matthew, Christopher, and Ashlee are my world. When I found out I had cancer I made a vow to myself (after my initial shock and despair period, which I kept hidden from them as best as I could). I vowed that I would never let my cancer consume my life, however much of it I have, with my children. It might make me sick. It might hospitalize me. It might take my hair, my weight, my health, and eventually my life. What it would not take from me though was a determination to spend as much positive time with my children as possible.

When you wake up each and every day and say to yourself, “How am I going to make an impact on my kid’s lives today?” you find that you have little room left for worry. Don’t get my wrong; my kids saw me sick, grumpy, and ill. They saw me lose the ability to concentrate. They watched me lose my hair. They saw me lose almost 50 pounds. They were there and saw everything – and I was honest with them every step of the way. But, as much as possible, I always tried to be positive and accessible to my kids.

Secondly, I staved off anxiety by doing research. I studied my cancer. I quizzed my doctors. I read myriads of online articles. I armed myself with knowledge. It didn’t keep the anxiety at bay, but it helped me catalog my symptoms, understand what was happening, and helped keep me feeling like I maintained some semblance of control.

But there are times when the anxiety gets you – regardless of what you try to do. It’s usually when you are alone or late at night. I do have a way to deal with that as well. It’s not 100% effective, but it has REALLY helped me cope in the past.

In order to understand the exercise I am about to share with you you need to understand the definition of anxiety.

Simply, anxiety is to be afraid of something in your future. Anxiety is a fear of an event that has not happened yet – and may never happen. When a fear of a possible future eventuality affects your present, you need to take steps to handle that anxiety.

The key to dealing with an anxiety attack is to live in the “now.” If a fear of the future is causing you problems – stop thinking about the future.

The best way to “live in the now” is to start a running dialogue with yourself about what your senses are experiencing at this particular moment in time. Like a mantra, repeat and catalogue your current sensations, over and over again.

Close your eyes – cut out the sense of sight which is our most difficult sense to ignore usually – and repeat to yourself what you are feeling:

I hear the radio in the living room
I feel an itch on my left arm
I feel a cool breeze against my face
I hear a ringing in my left ear
The air is cold in my nose
I hear the dog rolling around in her crate
I just got a whiff of the candle burning in the living room

Do this over and over again. Catalog your senses right now. You will find that thoughts of the past and future will intrude – your brain is going a million miles an hour and doesn’t want to shut off so easily. Let the thoughts in, but don’t hold on to them. Let them slip through as you continue with your sense catalog.

Eventually you will find it easier and easier to do this – to experience the “now.” The more you do it, the less space you will leave in your brain for the future to intrude.

This technique is a basic mediation technique – the Meditation 101 course as it were. It’s similar to contemplating the sound of one hand clapping. If you focus on one thing to the exclusion of all others, you will build a wall around your mind that will prevent the anxiety from keeping its hold on you.

When I do this at night I tend to fall asleep quickly.

So that’s my secret, people. I am determined to live my life as much as possible in a meaningful way for my children and I use a basic mediation technique. I do not and did not use any drugs. I try not to succumb to despair for more than an hour or twp at a time. After all; if I were to lose my life to this cancer, I never want my children remembering me as being lost to despair. Even dying, I have lessons to teach them. Dignity, determination, and love are things I can always show my kids, no mater how sick I am.

If you have any great anxiety-management techniques, leave me a comment and share them here with the world.

Cancer
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The Kindness of Strangers

November 14, 2009 by Sparks 0 Comments

It’s not often you meet a really kind stranger; someone who is naturally a nice person and without trying, without fanfare, is just genuinely kind.

I met one such person last week. On an airplane. I blogged a few days ago about how poorly United Airlines treated me on my flight from Orlando to DC. My return flight was a much more pleasant experience, because of a kind stranger.

United, in their infinite wisdom, stuck me in a center seat on my return flight. As I boarded the plane and made my way to my seat I was grumbling to myself about the cosmic injustice of it all. A poor flight up and now a middle seat on the way back – I was really irked at United.

I sat in my middle seat and stared blankly at the seat in front of me while an infant somewhere behind me started making noises loud enough to give a singing blue whale pause. I looked up after a moment and saw a young Hispanic man staring at me. He pointed to the window sat and said, “That’s my seat.”

I stood and started to move out of the row and into the aisle when he softly said “You can have the window.”

I shrugged and continued to move into the aisle. “No,” he said, “I’m just going to sleep the whole way. You take the window if you want.”

I wanted to argue, because I was already in a bad mood, and because his generosity was so unexpected I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was polite, though, and asked him if he was sure he wanted to give up the window seat.

At this time people were starting to stack up behind him. He nodded and I, bemusedly, thanked him and moved into the window seat. I grinned on the inside; this might not be a bad flight after all.

The plane slowly filled up, as planes are wont to do, and we were almost ready for takeoff when the flight attendant came on the loudspeaker and informed us that we were delayed. Apparently, there weren’t enough sodas on the plane and we needed to wait for the catering truck to deliver more refreshments.

I immediately felt better – balance was restored in the universe. The random kindness of this stranger was balanced out by the ineptitude of United Airlines. This was reality I could understand.

The delay went on, and on, and on. First the catering truck was MIA; no one knew where it was. Then, we learned that it had went to the wrong airplane and dropped off the load – so it had to go back and get more refreshments.

All the while the blue whale kid was getting louder and louder.

After a few minutes, the Hispanic man next to me pulled a paper out of his pocket and opened it. It was a letter. He saw me staring and shyly told me, “It’s from my girlfriend.” Embarrassed to be caught staring, I smiled and looked out the window.

Curiosity quickly overcame my embarrassment, though, and I surreptitiously glanced back at his letter. It was in Spanish, and started with the words “Mi Bebe;” or “My Baby” in English. I am not fluent in Spanish, but living in Florida, having a Puerto Rican sister-in law, and working for a minority-owned, mostly Hispanic, company has made me marginally fluent.

His girlfriend goes to UCLA and he was visiting her before he started Basic Training for the Air Force. He was on his way home from LA to Kissimmee, FL and she had written him a long love letter, filled with the lovey things young lovers say to one another. I softened a bit as I read, thinking of my recent wedding and honeymoon.

With a loud, sad, sigh the young man put his letter back into his jacket pocket. Did I forget to mention that his traveling clothes were, well, sharp? Not a business suit, but nice slacks, a button down shirt, and a tweed jacket. It reminded me of how people used to dress up, just a little bit, to travel. Not like today where people fly in pajamas. I found myself wondering just who this kid was, how he was raised, and what was going on in his life. I felt like he was in the wrong time; his manners, his dress, and the fact that he was exchanging hand-written letters with his love seemed more fitting to the 1950’s than 2009.

As he put his letter away he reached into his jacket and pulled out an over-sized Hershey’s bar, with almonds. He very meticulously unwrapped it – he did not rip the foil. And laid it out in front of him.

He looked at me and said “Would you like a piece of chocolate?”

I was floored. Who WAS this kid? Why was he so nice? Why was he so quietly nice? I really, really, wanted the chocolate, but I declined. His niceness was so refreshing, but so unexpected I felt just a little uncomfortable.

And I was suddenly ashamed of myself for feeling uncomfortable. What kind of world do we live in, what kind of person am I, that genuine niceness is a new and uncomfortable experience?

I was lost in thought, contemplating my own shallowness, when the plane took off. The kid fell asleep, as he said he would, and we had no more conversation or interaction until the flight was over.

As we were disembarking, he looked at me gravely, with a hint of a smile on his face, and bade me farewell and a safe trip home. I returned the courtesy, and never saw him again.

I never got his name. Even in the love letter from his girlfriend he was “Bebe.” Still, he left his mark on me. I will endeavor henceforth to be more like him. Happiness is a choice and courtesy is contagious.

Life
,

Why I Dislike United Airlines

November 9, 2009 by Sparks 2 Comments

I fly from Orlando to DC regularly. I almost always fly USAir from Orlando to Regan National in DC. I have lots of miles on USAir, ad I know what to expect when I fly them. I have been disappointed, as are most frequent fliers, at the loss of perks over the years and airlines tighten their belts and charge more for less.
united airlines picture
This morning I flew, not to Regan National (DCA) but to Dulles International (IAD). Instead of staying in Crystal City for this trip I am staying in Arlington and IAD was a closer airport to where I needed to be.

My office booked United instead of USAir. I wasn’t thrilled, because I get lots of miles on USAir, but whatever. It would be a new experience.

So last night I go to check into my flight online and find out I

  1. Can’t pick a seat
  2. Have to pay $15.00 for my first (and only) item of luggage.

I have had to pay for luggage before, so I was annoyed but not surprised. They should factor that into the ticket price, but I suppose I can understand wanting to save money if you don’t check anything. But about my seat – I called United, thinking there was an error in their online check-in system and tried to get my seat assignment.

No luck. They told me I had to go to the gate before I could get a seat. I was confused, but it was late and I wasn’t going to argue.

So I wake up at the ass-crack of dawn today and go to the airport. I check my bag and ask the lady at the kiosk to assign my seat. She tells me she can’t do it. I have to GO TO THE GATE. I get the “look,” which means she has answered that particular question more than once.

Now I’m annoyed. I just know I’m going to get stuck in a middle sat between two large passengers. I don’t argue with the luggage lady – she is just doing her job – but I grumble to myself as I go through security and head to the gate.

I make it to the gate early, as I always do, and I stand in front of the gate kiosk, waiting for the United employee to show. She eventually does, whereupon I promptly ask for my seat assignment.

She tells me to go sit back down and she will call my name when, and if, she can get me a seat.

“IF” she can get me a seat? I tell her that it is very important that I get on this plane. I bought a ticket and I have a meeting to get to. It’s not my fault they may have overbooked the flight.

“Oh,” she said brightly, “we may not be overbooked.”

So I smiled, while a throb started behind my eyebrows, and asked, “If you’re not overbooked then you have no problems giving me a seat, right? Can I have my seat?”

She smiled back, and I could see a vein pulse in her forehead. I was one of those customers. She pointed to the screen behind her, “Sir, you are confirmed and awaiting a seat. If you sit down I will call your name when, and if, we get a seat assignment for you.”

Again with the “if.” So I had to ask, in my polite voice, “What would prohibit me from getting a seat on this flight?”

“Well sir,” she said, “We book a block of seats for our members and we release them as needed.”

“So you mean to tell me,” I asked, “that Joe Member can run up to the gate right now, buy a ticket, and get the seat I paid for a week ago?”

She didn’t answer me. She again instructed me to sit down and wait to be called. I sighed and did as I was instructed.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

First class boarded.

I waited.

Second seating boarded.

I waited.

Finally, when the plane was 80% boarded, she called my name and handed me a boarding pass. At the back of the plane.

Fortunately it was a window seat. She smiled at me and acted like she had done me a great favor in giving me the window seat – and I supposed she had. She could have stuck me in the middle.

Still – this entire ordeal galled me. So let me address the next part of this blog to United Airlines:

Dear United Airlines,

You treated a brand new customer, me, like I was insignificant and unworthy to fly your airline. You used a backward bureaucratic policy to trivialize me and show me how insignificant my business is to you. Even though I did everything “right;” I paid in advance, I got an e-ticket, I checked in early, I arrived early, I checked baggage instead of trying to cram it in the overhead compartments, you told me pound sand and implied that you would give away my paid-in-advanced seat to a procrastinating miles member if he or she decided to fly.

I don’t care that your plane was cleaner than the regular USAir plane I fly. I don’t care that you had in-flight sitcoms when USAir does not; I don’t watch that tripe anyway. I don’t care that your plane was overall in better visual condition than the USAir ones I fly. None of that matters when you treat me as you did today.

United Airlines – you had your one chance to do right by me. You had your opportunity to treat me with dignity and respect and you chose not to. So I will, henceforth, exercise my right to choose and choose any airline but yours when I fly.

Thank you, and have a good day.

Ron Sparks
Orlando, FL

Travel
,

You Waited

November 4, 2009 by Sparks 2 Comments

I haven’t blogged about my wedding yet – or my honeymoon. I have so much to say that I just can’t find the words to write a concise blog. But, I did find the time to write a short poem to my wife. Here it is; I hope you enjoy it.

You Waited

you waited
for me to notice you
silent, shy, and unassuming –
hovering at the outside
of my life for
over a year; a
constant presence
a friendly smile that would be
more
and would not be
denied.

you waited
for me to kiss you –
laughing at my
nervous antics
when we found ourselves
unexpectedly alone;
surrounded by
thousands
of strangers caught
in the spell of
80’s rock and roll

you waited
by my bedside
holding my hands
and looking in my
eyes
reassuring me
as I faced my mortality
and went into battle
against my
cancer

you waited
for me to propose
sitting in the
garden
surrounded by roses
and cardinals
as I weakly took
a knee, my
cancer-ridden
body protesting
at the effort.

you waited
for me to recover
my confidence
my health
my sense of self
after emerging
from my
cancer
battle a changed man;
you never turned away –
never giving anything
less
than all.

I waited
at the end of the
aisle for you
on a warm
October morning
more nervous than
I thought possible,
losing my breath when
I saw you –
so beautiful not
because of a mere
wedding dress –
but because
no matter what –
you waited

for me

Ron Sparks
11/03/09

Poetry
, ,

The Crap We Learned to Eat

October 7, 2009 by Sparks 1 Comment

I just took a few minutes during my lunch hour to stumble the Internet. I stumbled on a fantastic website filled with advertisements from the 1950’s – the era in which my parents grew up. I was engrossed – I love the innocence of the time. The optimism that was pervasive in every ad made my smile and I was nostalgic for an age in which I didn’t live.

Still, it wasn’t all motherhood ad apple pie; I stumbled on this ad for Hunt’s Ketchup and was mortified by what I saw.


What the hell is that thing? Grilled cheese, topped with cheese, topped with bacon and ketchup? With pickles on the side?

This must have been a fairly common dish for it to have been highlighted in an ad. Yuck. We wonder why America is an obese nation. It started in the 1950’s with food like this. Out parents taught us to eat like this. The sudden and ubiquitous presence of pre-packaged or easy-to-make meals led to a sharp decline in healthy eating habits.

I don’t even want to know what this is – looks like stuffing as the main course of a meal:

Personally, I despise ketchup and I find people who slather it on everything to reside somewhere between Neanderthal and chimpanzee on the “Culinary Pallet Evolutionary Scale”, but the point here is what in the hell were we putting ketchup ON in the 1950’s? And why did we put pickles on the side with every dish?

Life
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