Not to sound too stupid but I have to acknowledge I'm loving this heat wave Utah and specifically Salt Lake is caught in the middle of. I left the apartment to go to have lunch with the writers Guild today and enjoyed the ride over to the restaurant which is just a block or two from my apartment – – which I'm so pleased. It almost didn't happen however odd as it was/is.
Remember I got the new left and it's got a sling on it which is a six strap sling would you just complicated beyond words especially for somebody who is not used to it. In fact, my home health person is so intimidated by it I think she's about ready to quit. So much so that we decide to do an “in-service training” and had the boss of the company Joe actually come to the apartment this morning to assist in training one morning person on how to best use the straps. I really like Joe. When I left the house and needed a home health service immediately I lucked out and got a hold of Joe on the phone and we set this system up that I use never looked back and working for us ever since. This is the first time I ever saw Joe in the teaching situation you did really well. I think with some great progress. I'm still waiting for my peace to come in on the other left of things be much better even than. That's not what this is about what I'm writing about is the fact that because this training took place I was almost late for this lunch date which is at 11 AM. In the training service started a.m. kind of. Joe was late as bosses generally are on these kind of things. Long story short when I got to the restaurant it was before 11 AM by still got there just but is given my teeth on time the didn't matter because Jerry, my buddy, was just taking off go pick up the other member of our group Lori who he forgotten he was going to pick up and to make matters worse all kinds of confusion ensued about the address and all kinds of things making our friend miss our lunch and it was just Jerry and I which, selfishly speaking, I kind of enjoyed. The most important thing that came out of today's lunch we discussed quite a few things but Jerry made a comment that still ringing in my minds ear and that was he did not want to get old or so old and feeble that people forgot who he was the great religious writer for the does read news as opposed to becoming some cranky old man at the end of his life that people would just as soon forget ever lived are forgot how great he was when he was writing. It was a lot to chew on the kind of thoughts we were having today. He actually ordered oatmeal for lunch and I had mashed potatoes and gravy and broccoli. We are old! So what's true. As we grow older we become less and less who we were and the value to a ghostly version of who we once were. I don't know how accurate that really is I don't want to believe it but something in the back of my mind says the Jerry's right on. This man knows of when he talks. He was somebody a major minor somebody in the local scene but still he was somebody that people are beginning to forget that he doesn't want to be that person that people remember is only cranky old Jerry. And I can sympathize with that I think sometimes I'm becoming cranky old Mark though I voice mankind to cranky (which is part of the today's discussion about myself as an angry person with a disability which made my anger account in the way that I wrote things). The other member of our group Lori has written a play based on our early years when she worked for a private nonprofit cultural arts group for people disabilities and I was the angry transit coordinator for the local Independent living Center trying to make change on the availability of public transit for people disabilities I was angry and did a lot of screaming and yelling and trapping buses in bus strikes. I'm no longer that person. I don't have the energy nor the will to fight like that anymore. I understand clichés that says “that's a young man's game” “that's a young man's fight”. Sigh, truly I understand these thoughts. My friend Jerry wants me to get back into writing some transit poetry. He still feels I have enough anger to write a few more stanzas may be enough for a book we shall see…
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