I was being prepped for surgery yesterday (routine and elective, no worries) when I began streaming the 1976 Pablo Cruise song, “Love Will Find A Way”. My specific verse was, “Oh, but it’s all right, once you get past the pain.” See, I was giving myself a little pep talk – “It’ll be fine, once you get past the pain. Yes, you know you’re right, Michael.” The Pablo Cruise song helped distract me.
The surgery didn’t come off. My BP was running 230/131. Too high, they said. It was checked several more times and never dropped.
My wife and I were surprised and baffled. As she put it, “He’s very active, walking almost ten miles a day, and never seems to have a problem.” Off I went to another doctor to address that issue. Heart, lungs, carotids, etc., all sound good, no dizziness, etc. A medicine was prescribed to lower it. We’ll go with the flow and see where it goes.
This was an instant favorite when it came out in 1999. I wasn’t alone; it became a number one song and a radio regular. This is another one of those, crank it up, sing along, and move songs.
I’ve posted about it before. It was streaming in my mind for some reason this morning, so, why not post about it again? This is a recording of a live version. I enjoy the band’s energy, and Carlos’ expression.
Here’s Rob Thomas and Carlos Santana with “Smooth”. It’s a good song to start a cool summer day, which is what it’s like here, in southern Oregon this morning.
The young woman on the scooter was wearing a lavender helmet. It went well with her shiny purplish bikini and sandals.
Watching her pass, he gauged she was probably traveling thirty miles an hour on the twenty-five limit road. Most people drove thirty to thirty-five, with some hurrying on to forty. Two people had been killed on the road in the last ten years, so he worried about the unknown girl. A friend had been wearing a helmet when she crashed. Wasn’t on this road, granted, but she’d been going thirty miles an hour when she lost control. (Privately, he thought she was going faster because he’d seen her riding before, but she claimed she was doing thirty.) Despite wearing a denim shirt and cotton shorts, she’d suffered huge injuries on her back and legs when she slid along the asphalt road. Weeks of hospitalization followed, along with a year of treatment.
That’d been what a person wearing a shirt and shorts had suffered. As for a person without much of a top…
Walking après writing yesterday, I was thinking of words and their meanings. Words’ meanings, especially when used in expressions, often lose their original meaning or intentions. Sometimes they’re literal for some while they’re meaningless to others.
“Thoughts and prayers” jumped into that category. Politicians are often saying, like a jerk reflex, “Our thoughts and prayers are with” some victims of murder or disaster. It seems like an expression they can use without thinking or doing anything else. Meanwhile, thoughts and prayers are powerful to others.
“I love you” also jumped into my thinking. I was reminded of a sitcom called King of Queens. It was on for a while years ago. While it ended production, the show can probably be seen in syndication. I confess, I’m a sitcom addict. Most make me wince but I still watch them, hoping for one that’ll satisfy. Admittedly, I watch less of them now than a few years ago. They’re too insipid. While I’m fond of shows like The Kominsky Method and Grace and Frankie, I’m instead turning to darker comedy like Barry, The Boys, and Stranger Things.
But there was one episode that came to mind from the King of Queens. The main characters were Doug and Carrie, a married couple. Carrie worked for a boss for a while whose name also was Doug. Once, when she was saying good-bye to him to end a phone conversation, she said, “Okay, Doug,” and then, saying Doug, automatically added, “I love you. Bye.”
“I love you,” became the pivot for my thoughts. That finally brought me to today’s music. “More than Words” by Extreme (1991). The song is a ballad about wanting more demonstration of a woman’s love than just the words, “I love you”. When I first heard the song on the radio, I wondered who was singing it, and was really surprised to learn it was Extreme. Later, I saw the video, and enjoyed how the bass and drum players are just sitting to one side, variously reading books, holding up lighters, etc., since the song doesn’t require anything on their part. That cracked me up.
So, here it is at last. Sorry for the long intro. Cheers
I don’t mind sweating, but I’ll tell you, I intensely dislike it when the sweat makes my boxer shorts stick to my butt cheeks. Makes me want to swear off undies, but then I’d just end up with my shorts stuck to my butt. The only option seems to be to avoid sweating, unless someone makes undies that repel sweat…
Going through the morning’s triple S activities – shit, shower, shave – he was thinking about his parents and their health. They’d divorced when he was a little boy. Each had contributed to that mess, he decided while conducting his retrospective. Mom forced issues and seemed to thrive on confrontation. Dad shunned conflict. Throwing himself into work, he’d held several jobs simultaneously. He did each well, and they paid well.
After their divorce, Mom had remarried six or seven times – he wasn’t sure – and Dad had several live-in girlfriends besides two other marriages. He thought it was remarkable that he’d married and managed to keep it together for over forty years.
Of course, he’d never been close to his parents. Splitting time between Mom and Dad’s households, he’d struck out on his own after graduating high school when he was seventeen, and then married at eighteen. Neither parent had made an effort to stay very close outside of birthday and holiday cards. Mom visited him and his wife one time, after he’d bought the round-trip airline ticket for her, after they’d been married thirty years. Dad had visited once, dropping by their first apartment for a grinning, goofy fifteen minute visit. Two visits between the two parents in more than forty years.
He sighed. Both parents, in their eighties, were in declining health. He knew he’d miss them once they passed away – everyone told him so – but it was hard for him to generate compassion for their situation.
He hated that he had that flaw and couldn’t seem to do anything about it.
Michael Seidel, writer 