Meth Heads Sleep In Pine Trees...

...in Salt Lake City. It's kinda neat/cozy looking. You see a hole cut out in the bottom of a large pine tree, and if you peek your head in you see a living space someone has made. Usually involving dirty newspaper, urine, and broken glass pipes.

While in Syracuse for my grandfather's funeral, I was lucky enough to meet up with some old friends.
It's funny...every time I say I won't be back soon to someone...I always end up being back soon.

Coincidentally it was the same weekend as the Caz Xmas walk, so it turned out to make a perfect time for a reunion with all the old skool friends.
Tommy G was there, and his brother. Eli of course. Steve G. with some lovely ladies as always. Steph J. and Juli T. were full of smiles, as usual. Then of course there were the Mowers Bros. & Co.
It was great to see everyone. Good to know everyone is doing alright :)


The next night Valerie and I hung out with Eli.


We met up with Steve G. and hung out under the Armory Square LED xmas tree (as seen in the background in the picture above).
Upon closer look it was comprised of many more wires and pieces of 2x4 than you'd probably believe.

Then we went to Dinosaur BBQ to meet up with Brett and his main squeeze, Matt, Garrett, Brother Joncas, etc.


Along the way to the Dino we passed a clock that was counting down slowly.

13...

12...

11...

Had terrorists plotted to blow up Armory Square via an extremely elaborate plan involving a home-made monument bomb?

9...

8...

7...

Seriously. What is this thing doing.

Naturally...we walked closer to it. The second time in recent memory that I did exactly what a stupid-ass-actor would do in a horror movie, "go investigate."
(The other time was when we were in the desert 4-wheeling and came back to a once lit, but now dark, trailer)

3...

2...

1...

24...

23...

What the.

Apparently it was put there in honor of basketballs 24-second shot clock. Which had been invented, developed, tested, and certified locally.
You can read ALL about it on it's plaque.

And we did.

During dinner at Dino BBQ, Valerie got to witness her first substantial snow fall.
She was very excited.
No one else was.


After Dino BBQ we walked down the street to a "pub" to have some "pints."
Look Brett! You're in my blog again!

Then the next day I flew back to L.A.

It was great to see everyone. It's always good to catch up with old faces, and know that your old friends are still...your best friends.

Assisted Suicide

The above, aired on BBC's Sky news, is a report on (and video of) the final moments of a man named Craig Ewert. This was the first time an assisted suicide was aired on public television.

Watching this video made me cry for the second time in years.

The first time was a few days earlier, after Thanksgiving, when while at my parents we received a phone call that my grandfather had died.



He was an amazing man. Often seen as the gruff type, not unlike in "Grumpy Old Men."
Yet, I'll never forget back when I was a kid, when I had been sick once and he came over to take care of me. He brought me donuts holes and juice...neither of which I could eat (I was too sick). But they were the types of food that would have made him feel better...and as a kid that was enough to show me that he had cared.
That and the secret handshake...

I was ready when he died. I had said all I needed to him. I had made my peace.

Years ago.


He suffered from severe Alzheimer disease. First slowly losing track of what was going on around him... then eventually completely losing all short-term memory (by the time his wife passed away from lung cancer).
I'll never forget the look in his eyes at her funeral. It was like he was watching a story unfold...one he knew the ending to...but couldn't quite grasp the plot of.
He cried, and told her he missed her. Then he'd be ok for a few minutes...only to repeat it all over again.
I thought it horribly sad, through each realization, that his reactions were strikingly similar to that of a confused child.

At least during his funeral we wouldn't have to be put through that again.


Every day, for weeks after, he asked where his wife was.

Eventually he stopped asking.


Over the next few years I would call him.
"Hey papa, it's Derek."


"Hey papa, it's your grandson Derek."


"Hey papa, it's your grandson Derek...Jeff's son."


Once he forgot who my dad was I couldn't call any more.


The reason I'm crying while writing this isn't because I miss him, and I do. It's because of the memories I have of losing him well before his death.
It's because of having to watch my father struggle to hang on to his father. Watching my dad struggle to find peace with himself...knowing that there was nothing he could do to help.

How many times a day can you call someone that doesn't remember you...until you stop.

How many times can you try and comfort yourself...telling yourself there's nothing you can do about it...until you actually believe it.

At what point do you stop trying...because you know it's something you're only doing to content yourself.


My dad didn't find the answer to any of these questions.


Because of our society's close ties to religion, it will probably be a long time before professional assisted suicide becomes an accepted act of death...which is somehow different than over-medicating and pulling the plug on a machine.
By then we'll probably have a cure for Alzheimer disease anyways.

I find it sad that my OTHER grandfather has already built a solution in the event he needs to end his own life.
But I also commend him.
Society isn't going to help his cause.

Your life is your own. As is mine.

I will refuse to live, if my sole existence does nothing but sadden others.