A rallying cry from the reluctant hero of Zorgamazoo:
Now, sometimes you lose and sometimes you win,
but my Pop always told me: You never give in!
And if he were here now, I know what he’d say:
Morty, my son, when you’re caught in a fray,
or your travels are tough and the going is rough,
or you’re up to your neck in the slippery stuff,
or say some old robots are on the attack,
then I tell you, my son: You start fighting back!.
Zorgamazoo, by Robert Paul Weston
When Mark lost his job last month, a friend grinned,
“When one door closes, another opens…
Sometimes, 17 others open.”
And it’s been true.
Possibilities have been popping up ever since.
Possible new paths for Mark.
And, surprisingly, hints of possible new paths for me.
Just hints, at this point. Vague invitations that may mean crossroads ahead.
But, several of them.
Open doors (even hints of open doors) are deliciously scary.
On Christmas evening, 2009, as I lay recovering from my first round of chemo, our vacationing neighbours lost their home to fire.
In the fourteen months since then, we’ve watched…
As their cute little house stood vacant and charred.
Then was swapped for a gaping hole.
As a new foundation was poured. New walls were framed. Drywall and gorgeous new windows were installed.
And, this week, as cozy nighttime lighting announced that their new house is becoming a home.
All the while, the young fivesome trudged contentedly through typical family routines.
Never guessing how their resilience was rippling.
Or how an unknown neighbour was rebuilding right along.
Slipping back to our carefree eighties.
In a dark, hot, twinkly lit yoga space.
Packed with hot, happy, healthy bodies.
Supporting a great cause.
Huge thanks to Natalie, Mike and Basia.
I’ve been in a weird place, lately.
Somewhere where I don’t know where I am.
I’ve fallen off my anti-cancer wagons. And then beaten myself up, accordingly.
I’ve slipped into my pre-c self-loathing. And then beaten myself up, accordingly.
I’ve tried and succeeded. I’ve tried and failed.
But we’re alive, healthy and happy. March break is just around the corner. Mark’s employment story looks bright.
And the canal is still open — and perfect. March fourth.