DEATH – it’s so bloody final

No matter how real death should be for all of us, it’s a subject we do not talk about often – if at all. Perhaps it’s because we don’t want to awake an eerie omen or create a bad jinx, as it could possibly bring an earlier end to our own lives – so why push the final envelope – at all? Instead we hide behind a shield of invisibility, hoping that infinity is the true reality - not death. And that’s all fine, but the part I have yet to fully accept, is that death is still so bloody final.

I was 8 years old when our teacher read a message from classmate Peter Arnoldi’s mother. Peter had been hit and killed by a car. I can’t remember any emotions from that day, as lack of life experience reigned; but reading the message today tears me up, as I do vaguely remember Peter; for one thing, he was so bloody young, so why die?

My first emotionally real-life ‘death-encounter’ involved my grandfather; a man I adored from I was born. My father, his wife and I were sitting in the first row at the funeral with this casket thing right in front of us; I was 17. There was standing-room only for this great man’s final farewell. When all was said and done, the casket was slowly rolled into a flaming inferno for his cremation – right there, for all to see. That image literally burned itself into my memory-bank; I still shiver thinking about it.

During planning a class-reunion (25 years) some million years ago, classmate Ernst worked for the Danish police and was utterly resourceful finding 26 of the 31 first-graders from 1953. It was nice ‘working’ with Ernst, reviving an old friendship. I was in California and he was in Denmark; snail-mail, faxes and phone-calls.

Then I didn’t hear from Ernst, so I called him and was told by his wife, that he had suddenly died. But how could that be? He was the same age as I – so that would be impossible… I mean, I just talked with him…

As logical and realistic-minded I think I am, I’m still utterly puzzled that I have not been able to fathom the, at times (always?) harsh realities of death – my own included. Best pal Michael died at 68; lovely family member Lasse died at 62. John Lennon at 40; George Harrison at 58; Steve Jobs and Robin Williams, etc. All before their ‘expected’ time; what the heck is going on?

My father died in 2000 at 87 and my mother died last August at 95. So we ‘comfort’ ourselves by attaching ‘lived full lives’ to their passing. I know my mother was tired of living, so she finally found her peace. But I’m not so sure about my father. He died from cancer, but the last couple of times we visited him in Denmark, he was as life-energetic as ever; and a few months later he was very dead – still is.

My mother’s husband was 64 when he succumbed to severe illness – just as he had decided to retire. He wanted to say goodbye to friends and family, asking them to the hospital – and they all came. Then he asked for the proverbial plug to be pulled – his choice. Come on, at 64?

I find that I write this with an arrogant attitude, with a matter-of-fact ignorance and some form of held-back anger. I’m sure it’s based on anxieties, obliviousness, my possible fears and insecurities about death. No, I’m not worried about my own death being jinxed by actually bringing this subject to the surface, but it’s one of these very realistic issues that I find I must get to know, get to understand and then (finally) be able to live with (at least before I die (ha ha)).

But one thing I clearly realize from the above: We are all influenced by so many people on our way through life, and in most cases more so than we realize (or admit to?) The true fact is that death will always be the ultimate reminder of how precious life is – let’s never forget that. Praising and appreciating loved ones, friends and family after they die, is all fine and lovely, but too often it leaves us with: ‘oh, I should have, I could have… why the heck didn’t I – and now it’s too late’? We must remember, that praising, appreciating, not taking anybody for granted, loving, caring and laughing, are all a lot more effective with people when they are alive, as the morbid damper on this kind of interaction is always death – duh...

We can all do better in this department – so why not start today – okay? Make those calls and send that E-Mail, implement more hugging and kissing, show love and respect more freely. Do it now – don’t regret later that you didn’t. Tell them how important they are in your life. And do it often; it doesn’t hurt at all. Spreading happiness is not bad – it makes all of us feel better and appreciated, much more alive.

I’m hitting 70 in 2016 (June 18, if you absolutely feel like sending me some cash). I do, of course consider my own death, and I admit, more often than I should. Don’t get me wrong, I’m alive, utterly happy and very healthy. I enjoy life as a very fortunate individual; I cannot ask or wish for anything else than what I have today, stuff I do and the fantastic friends and lovely family I’m in the middle of; all this together with my very best friend ever (my wife), two lovely sons and a fabulous daughter-in-law.

My everyday retirement-life is full of stuff that needs to be done to function in a stress-free zone, but more so full of stuff that I like to do. At times it’s hectic, very hectic; at times I do feel pressures, but I simply handle it piece by piece and get it done. I am an avid photographer (the amateur kind); I write a lot of stuff, including this blog; I read for fun and especially read to learn, which is even more fun – a lot; I walk the dog twice daily (or she walks me), I exercise, eat fairly well and find happiness in a lot of stuff around me. Life is good, very good – so thoughts of my death should be tabled for another day – way out in the future; don’t you think? But thoughts about my ‘passing on’ do pop up – and I don’t like it when it does…

From I was a teenager I theorized that I would outlive my last parent’s death by at least 5 years. So if this holds water I should hit at least 100. Triggered by that thought, I then calculate how many years I have left; yes, utterly pathetic - really. But it does help underscore my life as is and what’s really important, because then I concentrate on the quality of my life even more so, and that’s not bad.

Reality is that my wife and I do make some ‘considerations’ with the time left; I’m 10 years above in age, by the way. No, it’s not casket & urn-shopping (yes I will be cremated – Yuk, just the thought) or where the ashes will be spread, or any other morbid (good term) stuff. It’s more the practical realization of age overall and therefore dealing with related issues.

We have been traveling a lot in our lives before and together – very fortunate. We like traveling, so the last few years our travel-planning has been brought forward a bit (actually a lot). The reality is that some of these places will, for me at least be ‘a last time visit’. Yes, it’s bloody gloomy when we look at it that way, but it is a stark reality, which we have to learn to accept, no matter how much we hate to admit it. 

The whole death-thing is just hanging out there, staring at me with those probing eyes, with me going: ‘huh, what?’ The utter fact for me is, that I’m not really afraid of dying, but I’m more so afraid of not living – a huge difference.

Life is great and I find that I appreciate it more and more – if that is even possible. I embrace my surroundings 24/7 with its many people and stuff to do. Whatever age you are, please enjoy life and please appreciate the living in your life before they die – memories are lovely, but you can’t hug memories and tell them how much they mean to you, because – that would be weird (and sad), huh?

For me, these days death is more so a sporadic thought. I have accepted that the end will eventually come, if I want it to or not. So instead, I increased the enjoyment of living years ago, and that doesn’t really leave a lot of time to speculate and contemplate the conclusion of it all; so I stay happy. But no matter what, to me death is still so bloody final, Yuk… 

Now, go make it all a really great life – please…  

CRAPPY DAYS – and I’m not alone

We all have crappy days – I hope; I know I do. To ‘excuse’ my once in a while unholy crappiness, I decided a long time ago, that it’s like a natural safety-valve that holds back compressed anger, frustration, anxieties, insecurities, boredom, overall yackiness and other uncomfortable stuff. It’s like if I don’t periodically let some steam out (dark, nasty smelling clouds of smoke, actually), I would probably explode in a horrific, though colorful way. With that image in mind, you can understand why I don’t exactly embrace crappy days – a lot.
 

I hate people, who are crappy, as well as I dislike crappy people; I have a hard time accepting the occasional day of crappiness somebody is going through. It ruins my otherwise eternal (yeah, right) positive, happy and energetic attitude – and then I get crappy too; that’s the part I really hate.
 

I despise being in a crappy mood (‘crappy’ pronounced: ‘shitty’). It irritates me no end, as I for the most part have no bloody clue why I’m in that unstable stage of emotions – I really don’t know. I figure that with my intellect, life-experience and overall positive attitude concerning being somewhat well-balanced, I should be able to get out of it fast, no sweat. But I can’t. I desperately try to figure out the reason I’m off tilted, but for the most part, I can’t for the life of me find any reasons at all.
 

I have preached the use of the ‘negative-positive’ lists for ages and though I do practice what I preach, especially when I’m crappy, I find that even being such a lucky guy in all of life, I still have a hard time ‘crapping’ out, and that makes me even crappier… if possible.
 

Since we all visit Crappyland occasionally, let’s do the cop-out thing by looking for anybody or anything to blame for our day of crap, no matter how utterly pathetic that is. Oh hey, how about this one?

His name was Thomas Crapper, born in 1836 and died in 1910, in case you care. He was a plumber and the founder of Thomas Crapper & Co. in London. No, Dear Reader, Thomas did not invent the flushing toilet, but he did make it rather popular as he installed a lot of them to great relief for so many, even today. He also has his company name on a manhole near Westminster Abbey (a large church-thing…) that is somewhat a tourist attraction. Unfortunately I missed that when in London last May – oh crap… (Thanks, Tom).
 

So you get the connection – huh? Poor Thomas might not have appreciated this kind of fame, but we freely and blatantly blame him for at least being the namesake of our foul moods, shit that happens and those blah days we love to hate – sorry Thomas, really.
 

I try to stay away from using what we consider foul language – something I unfortunately have a hard time with – seriously. But I do not consider ‘crap’, ‘crappy’ or ‘crappiness’ part of that equation. To me any ‘crap’ is more so uttered with the greatest respect and in honor of Thomas & his flushing toilets.
 

During foul moods, I desperately try to keep it all within myself, trying not to affect my surroundings too much; I do not always succeed and for that I am utterly sorry. Being in the car on ‘crap-day’, I cannot find anybody who is not a jerk, bad driver, stupid, etc. Yes, I should probably not drive at all those days, but I do. I walk the dog and somebody smiles, wave and do the jolly ‘good morning’ thing. I throw them a pretend smile and think: ‘what the hell is YOUR problem’. Even my dog can feel the heat and gives the passer-by the ‘I’m sorry, he’s in such a crappy mood today’ look.
 

Tess, our wonder dog, is as sweet as a dog can be. She ‘swings’ with the mood in our home which for the most part is happy and fun. When I was in bed with a broken leg some years back, Tess was by my side constantly – being all worried. Our moods are picked up by her and she reacts accordingly. But when its ‘crappy-day-for-Peter’, she has a special hiding place she sneaks into at times; bless her lovely heart.
 

She is also a reason for me to ease up and try to get back to normal. The way she looks at me when I’m swearing away being crappy, is so sweet, innocent and concerned, that you have to be a real jerk not to acknowledge that she is very worried, hurting and disturbed. Then she'll lick my hand a lot (which I really don’t like, because I have seen how she cleans herself – duh…), snuggles up to me wherever I am and stays by my side like the formidable Velcro-Dog; just a true sweetheart (sigh) – and who wouldn’t give in to that?
 

I spend time by myself several days weekly; my choice, really. It’s not often I communicate with anybody other than Tess and Mindy (our cute cat) during those days, other than SMS’ing with a few friends, wife and children (adults, actually). At times I desperately try to machete my way through the dense jungle of crappiness, by grabbing the phone and call a good friend; that's another way to open the safety valve, to let some of the nasty crappy-steam escape – and for the most part, that works somewhat.
 

Another way to get back to the charming and delightful mood I normally expose (yeah, right) I play music really loud. Music always makes my moods turn more positive. When my wife returns home from work or from wherever, just her being near makes most of the crappiness go ‘poof’.
 

At times some of this doesn’t work, and I think that perhaps I don’t want it to work. I’m very confused in that area of being crappy. 'Get out of it’ is easy said, but at times really hard for me to do, no matter how much I want to be Happy & Charming Peter again; I might never figure it out.
 

At times I get depressed; not that I want to end my life or anything close to that, but a depression I cannot explain. When I was a boy and drifted into those moods, my mother for some excellent parental reason, dealt with it in a matter-of-fact way. She would ask me ‘why?’ and I would answer ‘I don’t know’… (of course in Danish…) My mother would then ask me to go into my room and come out when I felt better; so I did and it worked.
 
Today I find that my depressions quickly morph into crappy, and I’m fine with that, as it is somewhat easier for me to understand and deal with.
 

Kind of weird, but as it is not something that happens often, I’m certainly not concerned about all of this. My main issue is that I do not want any of my crappiness to interfere with the people I love and care for. I hate it when people are crappy, so why should anybody love and accept my crappiness, no matter how charming it is?

I truly believe that we all need to release the build up steam we collect from life’s daily challenges. I highly suggest accepting having crappy days at times, but then get it done with, and make sure that it doesn’t hurt anybody else and it’s all legal. But of course, if you find yourself in foul moods too often, it is time to seek help, to find out what causes it and then deal with it in a positive and constructive way, please.
 

Pretty much every time I use the term, ‘crap’, ‘crappy’ or ‘crappiness’ I do think of that poor plumber and his unfortunate legacy, so I send him a ‘sorry Thomas’; that in itself, does make me smile a bit, which helps me slowly move out of being in a foul mood – and then it’s time to say ‘thank you, Mr. Crapper', as I’m convinced he was a really nice guy (sigh)…

  

BABIES & KIDS – from dislike to love

I despised babies. From the foul odored poo-poo diapers and vomit, to how adults were constantly drooling and talking in weird voices anytime a baby was near. But the dislike was more so because babies took all the attention away from me. I successfully refused to be drawn in, never sat next to one, and certainly never touched one – ever, until I was about 41, seriously. But things can change, can’t they?

When my friends started to multiply, our relationships ended. I hated being around their slobbering babies, with the constant crying and the never-ending demands and more nasty smelling poop diapers – I mean, it was Yuk on the highest level; I was surely convinced from early adolescents, that there would absolutely not be babies in my future – at all. But wait, there’s more…

I fell in love with my wife the moment I saw her. I was 38 – she was 28. Early into our relationship, I (gently) understood that our future together would include children. Surprising myself, I slowly accepted this revelation. The timing must have been right, as especially my partner was perfect. So ‘Peter having babies’, started to rhyme – though I was still utterly stunned; my mother was as well, for the longest time.

Sixteen months later we were married and fourteen month into our marriage, we were ready to expand the world population. I more so needed to get ready, as I did not have a clue what to do during pregnancy, delivery and especially after the baby came out. So I read many books about babies and how to maintain them; we took Lamaze classes and I slowly became an ‘expert’ - I thought. But soon after the birth part, I found that nothing I had read or studied could prepare me for parenthood – nothing at all. It was very much a ‘learn on the job’ deal.

But I was as prepared as could be when the water broke and delivery started. It was a struggle convincing the baby to come out, as it had one arm over the head through the birth canal. But the three of us worked well together, and our first-born finally arrived. Yes, I was the ‘delivery coach’, and it was weirdly exhilarating.

I had never felt so euphoric on this level in my whole life. Holding this baby, feeling the warmth from his body, the tiny heartbeats, his breath, his skin and the way he looked around so curiously, is a feeling and emotion I still cannot explain. I found myself kissing him and telling him how much I (already) loved him. It was one of the most wonderful days of my life so far (besides marrying my wife). Just thinking about that whole process tears me up a bit – but don’t tell anybody, please.

It was decided to keep him in the nursery overnight for observation, while we, exhausted and excited new parents, retired to our hospital room.

I got up early the next morning to get our new son. On the way to the nursery, I smiled as I thought about how pathetically stupid and ignorant I had been in the past concerning babies. How could I have been so oblivious? I especially chuckled out loud about that thing how ‘all newborn babies look alike’. How silly was that? From the moment he was born I had neither blinked nor taken my eyes off him; I would of course be able to recognize him in a heartbeat. ‘All babies look alike?’  What utter nonsense.

The nursery had about 10 cribs occupied by new babies. I acknowledged the on-duty nurse and quickly scanned the room. There he was – our lovely new son. I eagerly crossed the floor and as I reached into the crib to pick him up, I heard the nurse smiling as she said: ‘Peter, he is over there - in the corner’. My face quickly changed to a deep red. I giggled in utter embarrassment as I walked over to the genuine baby Steiness; I even double-checked his name-tag. So they had been right after-all: ‘all babies do look alike’. Well, at least that morning they seemed to.

Even though I ‘theoretically’ felt prepared for parenthood, I soon found that I was not ‘hands-on’ prepared at all. But by ‘need to’ I learned quickly. Certain whimpers were for food, a slightly different whimper was for diaper change and my favorite whimper was ‘I need to nap with Dad’.

As I wanted to participate in all aspects of our son’s upbringing (though breastfeeding was unfortunately out of my league), I quit my day-job, became self-employed so I could work from home. This way I would look after the baby while my wife returned to work. Though working from home met some lean times, it was one of the best decisions we ever made. Being able to share the care of our son with my wife had him constantly with one of us, and most of the time, with both of us.

My world had shifted dramatically - a wonderful wife and now our beautiful and healthy son. Days and nights were filled with foul (!) diaper changes, feeding, burping, napping, baths, laundry, strolls in the park and lots of playtime. I immediately found an enormous satisfaction and joy being with him. Hugging him, kissing him and loving him, was such a privilege - a privilege I had never experienced before (except with my wife – duh…) This privilege doubled when we had our second son, a couple of years later.

My wife and I shared the parental responsibilities. The result of this early, positive and plenty shared parent involvement, is surely visible today. The relationship between the four of us is solid, respectful and loving. We know and acknowledge how fortunate we all are and we have never taken our little family for granted.

I used to despise babies as they smelled bad and took the attention away from me. Well, now I like babies (okay, for the most part) and children and not just my own. Children have such positive and exciting energy, and as long as we (adults) guide them correctly, they will succeed in whatever they pursue. They are academic sponges and they really want to learn; we just have to show them how, by making it all interesting, challenging and fun.

Look at their faces and look into their eyes – we see eagerness and a zest for life. All we have to do is supporting this positive attitude – and we can certainly all learn something from that as well – so go ahead, please.

For a few years I was fortunate to work with school children from ages 6 to 12. As a volunteer, I created a drama class and clocked in over 3,000 student hours. I wrote and directed four variety shows with eager involvement from the kids; it was an absolute blast.

I coached soccer for many years and the player-list reached over 1,300 youngsters from age 5 to 19 years old. I loved them all dearly, and as I eventually retired from drama-class and soccer, I do miss spending time with ‘the kids’ and their energy – but I have only superb memories.

From disliking children to have my own and even surrounded myself with so many other kids, was for me a dramatic, surprising, but wonderful turn-around. I am sure I have taught these youngsters some positive aspects of life, besides variety shows and soccer, but that will never compare with what they taught me about fun, love, compassion and respect through those years.

Being an involved parent by taking the time and making an effort with our children, any children, actually, gives all of us tremendous rewards. By acknowledging and live by, that every day is a new experience for us as parents as well as it is for our children, we are heading in the right direction. Working together using fun, love, compassion and respect, will only make our days together better and better. I know – I learned ‘on the job’. And ‘yes’ I am still utterly surprised - seriously... Poop diapers and all…

CAREER DREAM – and then we wake up

From parents and a huge assortment of aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas as well as from a lot of people we didn’t know or even cared about, we heard the proverbial: “What are you going to be when you grow up?” Even as a kid it was an embarrassing question. Of course, if you are asked at the age of 43, it’s even more embarrassing, valid or not. What DID you want to be when you grew up? Did you pursue your dream – or did you end up in a ‘career’, doing something totally different?

‘Career’ has several meanings; the ‘career’ I’m talking about, is related to the working aspect of an individual, something we chose, pursue and do, to create some cash for a living. And talking about ‘career’ isn’t it weird that we have the term ‘career-woman’ but not ‘career-man’? As far as I know.

I grew up in a simplistic era (1822) and the career choices reflected that. Fire-fighter or policeman for the boys and something like motherhood or nurses for the girls. No, I’m not aiming at sounding male chauvinistic, just stating facts.

As I slowly morphed into teenage-years and acne, my career dreams changed accordingly. I seriously cannot recall anything else, career-wish-wise, from that time that I wanted to do, other than it had to be something creative as in writing movie-scripts, acting, directing, etc. Those choices were never based on fame and fortune (with lots of beautiful starlets constantly crawling all over me in high heels and bikinis), but was simply something I found interesting and intriguing, challenging and exciting – at 14 - and I still do at 69 (except the ‘starlet’ thing).

I’m sure I’m not alone in the ‘…but then I woke up’ when my career-dreams evaporated from something I really wanted to do, to something I had never thought about. My mother’s new husband (whom I adored), was a successful business owner and he wanted me to take over when he retired. So he pretty much plotted my ‘career’ from apprenticeship to factory owner – and a lot of cash. I more or less went from ‘to be or not to be’ to ‘can I help you?’ Then he sold the factory as I was in mid-education, and that sucked – big time…

But my ‘career’ was actually going well; ‘well’, more so based on my income, where I would have treasured a well-written script made into a movie. Stranded in business, it was obvious that ‘creativity’ was actually a core part for success. The more innovative and creative I could be, the more cash came in. At times, when I compared and dreamed of what could have been and what was, I did feel like I had prostituted myself for the cash, by abandon my initial calling. But looking at the bigger picture, I do not have any complaints… If I could do it over, roll time back to my moment of career decision, I would have stuck with my original dream, no not the fire-fighter, but the creative route.

I did make some of those earlier dreams come true later in life, as I wrote and publish two books – when I was 64; better late than never? 

Anyway, so how are you doing? Did your initial dream come true? Are you doing what you originally felt would be a satisfying career? Or did you end up doing something totally different? I don’t think I’m wrong stating that many to most of us did not end up in that earlier career dream. Not that it’s a bad or negative thing, just a statement of facts. I must believe that we adjust according to our circumstances and do find some or a lot of joy in what we end up doing job/career-wise; I certainly hope so, or else…

We keep asking kids what they want to be and when we look at the possibilities today and in the immediate future, can you imagine how hard those choices are? Fire-fighter and policeman doesn’t seem tough decisions in comparison.

Would I be able to choose and pursue a career dream in today’s environment? Yes I would, because as mentioned, I would stay the course and energetically go after that ‘creative’ world I dreamed about at 14. Could I do it now – at 69? I am kind-of doing it now to some extent, as I am doing a lot of creative writing, and it satisfies me no end – cash not involved. Do I ever think of what could have been? At times, but only rarely, as in: ‘what’s the point?’

Of course, asking a kid about his or her future is still a bit silly, as a kids’ future is pretty much covered by: ‘what’s for dinner?’ As we grow older with some of us maturing a bit through high school, we begin to realize that ‘oh crap’ we are getting close to where we have to, need to choose something ‘career-wise’, some kind of direction in life…

And it really isn’t fair that we at such an early stage have to make such a major (huge) decision. We do not have the maturity and certainly not the experience, to decide what to do the next 45 years or so. It really isn’t fair, huh? Sure we can and do make adjustments on the way, but we are still looking and guessing if we should go left or right, up or down.

So we (carefully?) choose a major highway. I mean, I’m positive that our local proctologist didn’t decide on that career at 14 (if he or she did, that would be a bit weird, huh?) So it starts with a medical education and specifics later on. Business administration is another broad avenue to travel, as the possibilities will open up down the road, etc. You get the idea…

I often ask people if they are satisfied and perhaps even happy with what they are doing. I ask them if that was their initial ‘dream’, and most answer with a giggle and ‘no, not quite… but it’s a job’… As I drill them a bit more, I have found that most actually do like what they are doing (and universally, everybody wants more money for whatever they do – duh…)

I am in utter awe every time I am exposed to somebody who is so good at their job; no matter what the heck it is they are doing. I respect and appreciate these people and often ask them, to confirm, if they like what they do – and they always do. I also tell them that I’m impressed – and that is received with a smile and ‘thank you’…

We must realize and be very thankful for those who are doing some awesome and exceptional jobs, jobs that a ‘normal’ person couldn’t even dream of being able to do or wants to do. The heroes and heroines in the medical field, from trusted and dedicated nurses, to highly specialized surgeons. Would I fly a plane with a load of 300 passengers? No way. What about becoming a soldier and go off to some foreign lands and risk your life? Won’t happen. And you can make your own long list of ‘not me’...

We all know what we would like to see when looking in from the outside, ‘fantasizing’ it’s called – Peter and the starlets (only kidding). But I also believe that for the most part we are all kind of okay and perhaps even happy, with what we do and what we did. Would I really go back and do it over with some changes? No I wouldn’t. I did just fine, a career mixed with happiness, lots of challenges, creativity, meeting some exceptional people on the way, many crappy moments, and then receiving some cash for the overall effort – making a living. It was not what I saw at age 14, but when I finally woke up (retired), I acknowledged that it had not been bad at all – for the most part.