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It’s Over, and That’s That

Updated on June 9, 2015


I had 8 years of wonderful lovemaking with the mother of my child. Her bedroom style was fabulously fun. Intimate moments with her were pleasant, trustworthy, and dependable, not to mention exciting and always welcome. And, like everything in life, good or bad, it ended in the 9th year. Great while it lasted, but nothing lasts forever, so it is said.

The end wasn’t exacerbated by pregnancy or childbirth, which had occurred years before. We just grew apart, and I probably did some stupid things, and I didn’t measure up to what she’d hoped for, and it was time. We had run the course. As Sinatra sang, “That’s life”. One of my ex’s favorite lines was hearing negative circumstances touted as just “part of life’s rich pageant!”[1] And so it goes, que sera sera.

Relationships, winning streaks, good times, high earnings, the abundance of anything; Carson, Letterman, and on a slightly lesser scale, Ferguson; entertaining plays, meaningful movies, kick-ass songs; beautiful evenings, calm days, sunny weather, stormy weather, the flat Earth. Wholly unpredictable circumstances. Or, Holy Unpredictable Circumstances, Batman!

The good die young, resulting from unforeseen accidents, untimely endings, nasty surprises, and plot twists in life. There’s an expiration date on everything. On milk, it often arrives even earlier than stated and, oy vey, the stink.

I’ve watched childhood friends part ways like strangers. People you thought you’d always know and, then, you don’t anymore. “Where does it go,” one wonders about the earlier deep kinship seemingly lost during the transition to teenager or young adulthood. Change happens, sometimes mysteriously.

I remember the old triple carbon forms. I used to work for a public safety agency and folks used to come in all the time to either file a complaint or collect personal property we had found. Being a bureaucracy, there were forms to fill out. Our agency catered to a predominantly young clientele in our ‘hood. And, we were subject to the usual training seminars on preventing sexual harassment in the workplace and the community, and we took it seriously.

A young lady came in once regarding a concern for which it was necessary to remit a completed form, generating a copy for all parties in the process. As the dispatcher on duty, it fell to me to ensure it was done properly to alleviate any trouble processing it. So, upon reading it and “approving” it as correctly rendered, I commented “Good job. You get the goldenrod on the bottom.”

Silence from my co-workers nearby (a couple of officers standing by) and a wide-eyed, quizzical stare from the young lady. She seemed to be surprised at my comment. And then I realized why and began to laugh. I reached for the paperwork, turning it to the last page, the goldenrod carbon copy, and held it up to be seen by all. And then they all started laughing. I had meant what I said, but they had each heard it differently than I’d intended.

Well, hello, carbonless forms. I guess that’s one phrase that will likely never be used again innocently. It still makes me smile, though.


There are so many things that we no longer have or will run out of soon. A ton of reminders about bygone products arrive frequently in my e-mail. And it’s fun to remember and even fantasize about bringing some of them back. But we all know it will never be the same. Things just run out, regardless of how popular or beloved, or even, useful.

In California, it’s water. Maybe time, too, for the Big One is destined. Money, everyone runs out of that sometime; well, mostly everyone. Patience, with kids or pets or friends or students or teachers or slackers or authority figures, hell, anyone. How about food? Room to breathe? And I hate running out of answers unless the subject in question is fun to research. Steam, we’ve all run out of that after pushing ourselves to get to wherever it is we’ve arrived. Thoughts on the matter? Solutions? Clean clothes? Money! (I know, I said that, but running out of money occurs way too often.)

No matter how well things seem to be going, it’s probable for most of us that something will happen eventually to screw it up. Fate doesn’t care, like its brother, Karma, and sister, Destiny. Humans are just not important enough to worry about how outcomes affect us. The end is near; live with it.

Good communication should never end but, sometimes, it never even gets started. Folks often fail to realize just how good they may have it. They don’t seek to enjoy it while they can, figuring there will be time later. You like golf? Here comes the bursitis. Bowling your game? Try that with a broken ankle. Car running fine? Save up for that expensive repair on the horizon. Water in the well? Consider planting succulents. Having a nice trail ride? Get ready for a crash landing when the horse spooks for…who the hell knows why!

Many of you who previously were enjoying a fairly comfortable life (pre-2009 or so) understand exactly what I’m saying. Retirement was set to get you through your golden years until Wall Street Schmucks went looking for their own nest egg, with your money. Lost it all for you, and your dependable, comfy future went the way of the dinosaur. Not all of us have recovered, and those who have may not have fully recovered. Do you think that really bothers politicians? If actions speak louder than words, I would say not. Of course, it bothers them as it relates to them and their families and loved ones, but not beyond that, not even their constituents.

Every few years we elect some new local or national blood, and a few years after that we begin to feel disappointed, again. We don’t learn. I guess that never ends, anyway. We are eternally hopeful and choose to ignore the negatives until the last moment, if we even pay heed to them, then. We just don’t want to be bothered with bad news or “bummer” thoughts. Remember, if we do run out of food or water or clean clothes or mustard or whatever, it’s our kids who will be saddled with finding answers, sometimes, where no practical ones exist. “Thanks for the legacy”, to borrow from old Bob Hope. We adults are selfish that way. Politicians are the epitome.

Things Are, Then, Are Not

Yes, things usually reach some finality; the curtain falls, the fuel is expended, the fat lady sings, the system turns against you. C’est la vie, bub. What is one to do? You can’t polish a turd. Maybe make lemonade out of lemons. Take a long nap. Revel in someone else’s problems, that they’re not yours. Feel sorry for yourself and seek sympathy from those who seem to be doing alright for the present. Sooner or later, situations arise that befuddle the mind; happens to anyone. Even the castaway will get sick of coconuts.

One of the few things we do not run out of is fear, but I’m afraid to discuss that at the moment.

So, rather than worry about when things end, I’d like to enjoy them while they last. People, places, magic moments, humanitarian ideals, a good bowel movement. Whatever, it takes less than it used to for my contentment.

Join me, figuratively speaking (because my bathroom’s too small for all of us), in celebrating the good things we have now. My kid likes to save the best part of the meal until last, get all the crud out of the way. However, sometimes nearing the end of the meal, she can’t eat anymore. And, to eat it since it’s been saved for the last just invites tummy problems. That’s all, folks.

I, like all of us, have been to Unpleasantville recently. Still tromping through, actually. We must keep going because life keeps going with, or, without us. Make hay while the sun shines, buy gas when it’s cheap. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow, we die. The end is the beginning, but of what?

Be well, be kind, be considerate, caring, and thoughtful, and right-minded. It really is what the world needs now.

And, yes, this blog is over.

[1] Don’t ask where we heard this because I can’t recall. We got a real kick out of it, though. It’s the little things.

As with most of the Beach Boy's slower, contemplative songs, this cut features beautiful harmonies. It's short; put on headphones and enjoy. Find it on You Tube.

"'til I Die" (by the Beach Boys) Album: Surf's Up)

I'm a leaf on a windy day
Pretty soon I'll be blown away
How long will the wind blow?
How long will the wind blow?

Written by Brian Wilson 1971

As with most of the Beach Boy's slower, contemplative songs, this cut features beautiful harmonies. It's short; put on headphones and enjoy. Find it on You Tube.


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