Flame on

There were a lot of comments on the last blog, and some clearly pointed out my lack of singing or acting talent. Let me remind you, I was 'Life' in that eighth-grade play, and the guardian of the gates in 'Oz'. And, I have pulled the wool over the eyes of management in every job I have held and school I attended. No comment on singing. Re: those comments, is Steve Steve McElroy from high school? Must be, he knows I was the muscle behind the drama.

Actually it was mostly lights I did, while Steve was one of the finest actors I have known. I can still picture him stealing the show in everything he was in from tenth grade on, and in the big senior year play reciting his final line, 'Remember me in lights', dressed like a scalawag, bringing down the house. I'll be damned if I can remember which show it was. That info must reside in one of my brain-holes. One of the cool things about McElroy getting up on stage is how it brought the whole badass tough guy element into the theater. Steve, what's going on?

This shitstorm of an economy is kicking us all. Usually I try to feel bad for just myself, but today I am going to think of Anonymous Bill in RI, who may have to choose between dogs and digs soon, the 1st BMT patient foreclosed out in RI. See http://www.projo.com/news/bobkerr/kerr_column_11_03-11-09_1UDJG10_v12.3864216.html. Bill, I am golfing today, and I am dedicating that sickening feeling I get from my first duffed wedge shot to your pain. Hang in there and repeat after me, 'This too shall pass.' I have some second or third cousins named McNiff, Tommy and John, but I think one of them died tragically young. Are we related? Silly question, everyone from RI is related.

There ought to be an easier way to fill these holes in my brain, like brain bondo. The learning of new things to increase brain plasticity is not going that great. I've been doing some cooking lately, and have taken most of the opportunity afforded to screw things up. For years I have given my wonderful sisters-in-law grief when they burn the garlic bread, to the point where they don't do it anymore. The other day, I was broiling the bread, and when the spaghetti was done and the phone rang in mid-broiling I lost focus until Mike pointed out that the bread was on fire!

Now I never saw that in the feasts of the past, not actual flames. I threw the bread into the sink and hosed it down to put it out, which was too bad because most of it was salvageable. Oh well, fuel for the boys to torment me with. Once, I grabbed a bottle of salsa instead of tomato sauce, and I never hear the end of the resulting inedible spaghetti dinner.

My doctor visits are dwindling down. Tomorrow we go to Stanford for the first time in weeks. The local doc has checked me a couple of times, and I am fine, which is what they will say tomorrow. I suffer from always being cold, because my metabolism is whacked out, and I am weak but getting stronger, and I suck at golf which I always did, and my brain has holes and is slower. I remember the radiation doc telling me back in July of '05 that after cranial irradiation I would get dumber but I wouldn't notice. I've noticed.

Mo noted in one of his comments that his grandfather said he lived on memories. I am trying to fill up my memory banks so I can keep-a-goin, and luckily I get to use home movies et al to help me.